The Ghostly Past

Chapter 39

The urge to breathe had become desperate, primal. Her chest hurt, ribs moving as her lungs strained. Her legs were twitching, her fingers, tearing into the skin on Ryan's hands, weakening as strength leeched away. Dark spots like bruises burst before her vision, her eyes bulging, her consciousness fading.

"Hey!" A voice shouted. "Leave her alone!"

Ryan's hand was ripped from her, and Clara dropped to the ground. She gasped for air, her eyes fluttering, hand massaging her bruised throat. Water streamed from her eyes, her limbs feeling floppy as she coughed and took shallow breaths.

She looked up at her rescuer.

It was Max, yelling at Ryan who was suddenly sporting a bloody nose. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Max was going ballistic. "Hitting women? If you need someone to hit, at least hit someone your own size." His eyes flashed dangerously.

He was there. Clara wanted to sob, in that moment gazing up at him as his eyes flitted to her in quick concern. This was the Max she had always cared for. She had really worried that she'd failed to reach him, that he wouldn't come after her.

"Unlike you, who hurts people just by existing." Ryan snapped back, his eyes travelled between Jess and Clara on the floor. She saw the tiniest sliver of regret before the anger reignited again.

"Walk away." Max warned.

"Not without Jess." Ryan answered and swung a punch. Max ducked and then lunged at the other man, the two of them grappling, elbowing and kicking at each other.

They crashed into a table, sending the vase on it toppling. The glass smashed, flowers and water trickling all over a paperback novel. The two men slipped and hit the floor, limbs entangled, but still furiously pummelling at one another.

Jess was crawling towards the door and escape, Clara drawing her legs back to avoid being hit.

Max hit Ryan square in the jaw and he cried out, his hand scrabbling on the floor for a weapon.

His fist swung at Max with something in it. Max yelled out in pain, going limp as Ryan dragged himself out from underneath. Clara watched as Max put his hand to his side and it came away bloody.

Jess started to scream.

Ryan's gaze snapped back to her. He strode to Jess by the door, ignoring Max and Clara and yanked her up onto her feet. "Ryan, no!" She was screaming as he tugged her out of the door, the ghosts scattering to let them through. "You're drunk! Look around you at the spirits! They're making you do this! You have to find yourself!"

Clara heard the click of the car doors unlocking, despite Jess's protestations. A door opened and slammed, cutting off the woman's voice. The engine started.

She finally moved. "Max?" Her voice was croaky. "Max!" She crawled over to him, brushing shards of glass and pottery out of the way. Jess's parents were going to have a fit when they came home.

He was groaning, his side bloody. "Clara, are you okay?"

"That's my question!" She answered, reaching him, brushing away shards of glass around him. "Let me see." She brushed his hands away. There was a shard of glass from the vase sticking out of his side. "Oh no, Max." She whispered. "I need to find my phone...I need to call an ambulance."

"No." Max shook his head, pulling away. "Help me up."

"You should lie down." Clara sighed, but acquiesced. He gave a soft cry of pain as she helped him onto his feet, helping onto the sofa. "You came."

"You left your torch." For some reason, it made Clara laugh almost uncontrollably. Max gave her a funny look, and then started to laugh too, before breaking off wincing. He sighed. "I saw it on the side and realised you were alone out there in the dark. It's a good job I followed."