Chapter 16

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   I am so sorry for not updating. I needed to take a break from this book for a while. I completely lost track of all of my ideas and I was starting to hate it a little bit. I almost deleted it, but Wattpad was looking out for me and wouldn't let me, so, appreciate these next chapters because I'm really pushing myself to finish this book. because of that, I might not update as often. Anyway, enjoy!


   It was a bad idea. Telling her too much would increase the risk of putting her in danger. Miles knew of the horrible consequences that came with disobeying the mysterious shadow. He had done it once before. The regret sat heavy on his shoulders, dragging him down farther with each step he took. Miles was all too familiar with the feeling; he's felt it his whole life. Each time he messed up, the pile would build and build, and one day, he'll be on his knees, begging for help.

   Something inside of him was pleading for him to take back what he said to Marianne. Tell her to leave and forget everything she heard. But he knew it was too late. She was already knee deep in danger. His danger. There was no going back, no way of erasing her memory of the past few days. Miles had no clue why she was so interested in him. Why she wanted to get to know him so badly. Part of him hated it; the thought of revealing himself too much, and scaring her away. However, the other part of him enjoyed the feeling of being wanted, and having someone who understands him and what he's dealing with inside his twisted mind. He wanted to run away before this all went sideways, but there they were. Sitting at his bay window in silence, waiting for all of hell to break loose.

   Miles sat with his hands on his hands folded in his lap. His leg bounced anxiously, as he breathed deep shaky breaths. Marianne was the opposite. She sat facing him, her legs crossed over one another, waiting patiently for him to start talking. Minutes passed, and Miles was still silent. Marianne leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. "Hey. You home?" She joked, hoping to lighten the awkward mood.

   "Uhh." Miles stood up, letting her hand drop onto the cushion. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't do this." His breathing quickened. He became light headed as he walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge. "This is so stupid. I won't. I can't... do this." His hands moved to his hair, tugging and yanking on the dark curls. "Just shut up!" The voices in his head raged on, ordering him to tell her everything. They knew it would put her in danger, and that's what they wanted. It happened all the time. Miles would get close to someone, then the voices would start up again, telling him to do horrible things to make himself look insane. Eventually they would grow terrified of him and try to leave... and then... they wouldn't make it out. Not alive.

   Marianne was beyond shocked and confused; not sure how to handle the situation. She slowly unfolded her legs and turned to face him. "Miles," Her voice was soft, not wanting to trigger him. "What's wrong? Who are you talking to?" Marianne leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She waited patiently for a response, but she didn't get one. All she got from him was more heavy breathing and muffled whispers, cursing at someone she couldn't see.

   Eventually, Miles relaxed and sighed deeply, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. "He'll hurt you, Mary." He said. Miles straightened his head and opened his eyes to see a very concerned Marianne. "If I tell you. He wants me to tell you."

   Her eyes narrowed. "Who, Miles?" Marianne - Mary - stood up and made her way over to sit next to him on the bed.

   Miles sucked in a sharp breath. "The man that you saw yesterday... I knew him." He exhaled slowly. "His name is Peter Quint. We were close when I was younger. He would give me riding lessons, take me out into town. We'd mess around... get drunk." Marianne looked up, shocked, though she didn't show it. "Then... one night... he was in the barn, and he had a heart attack. That's what my caretaker told me. He wasn't that old, and I was old enough to know that something about it was... off. I started having nightmares, and he would visit me and tell me things... disturbing things. He told me Mrs. Grose killed him. Strangled him and covered it up to make it look like an accident. And I believed him - I still do. I mean, it makes sense. She hated the influence he had on me. One day, I was sitting in my room playing guitar when I heard him whispering to me. He told me he had a task for me. He wanted me to kill Mrs. Grose as revenge. I said no. She's all we had. I couldn't do that to Flora."

   "Flora." Marianne whispered. "Is that your sister?"

   Miles nodded. "Little sister. Anyway, Quint didn't like that, so... he took matters into his own hands. I didn't hear form him for a while. Until, I was playing hide-n-seek with Flora. We'd turn off all the lights and use flashlights to search. We were having fun, but then... I dropped my flashlight, and the batteries flew out. I couldn't see anything, and she started screaming my name. Screaming for help. I followed her voice out to the back yard." His voice cracked. "I found her face down in the pool. She wasn't moving, so I jumped in and pulled her out. I tried to save her, but I couldn't. Then, Quint showed up and made me a deal. He agreed to bring her back, only if I let him use me as a 'shell' to do his dirty work. so, I let him bring her back. He never mentioned that there was a catch. Flora isn't really alive. She's there, but she is bound the property... she's stuck there forever."

   "At least you have your sister." Marianne said, hesitantly.

   "Yeah." Miles sighed. He began to fiddle with his hands; drumming his fingers across his thighs, clenching and unclenching them, and bouncing his leg. He wouldn't look at her, not like this. Not when he was vulnerable and close to tears. Miles didn't know what to do with himself in that moment. Usually, he would play the drums or guitar as a way to cope. But right now, he had neither. All he could do was sit and wait to explode. Miles was terrified of himself, of what he was capable of. However, the fear subsided as Marianne took his hand in hers, and held it tight.

   The fidgeting slowed to a stop. When he turned to look at her, he saw that her eyes were already glued to his, searching for something, though, he didn't know what. Miles parted his lips, ready to ask her what she was doing, tell her to let go, but... did he really want her to? He knew well enough what she was doing and why she was going it. She was helping because she wanted to. Help. A word he used to hate. Miles was convinced he was helpless. He couldn't be fixed, he couldn't change. Not for himself, not for anyone. But in that moment, for a split second... he thought, maybe he was wrong. He could change. Not for himself but maybe for her.






  

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