Halloween

1961

His disappointed expression was more painful than the knife in her chest. He knelt down and lifted her chin so Marie could look at him.
“Why did you do this?” he asked softly.
“I know you said soon, but it hurts.”
“And so does a knife if you chest,” he muttered. “What happened for you to do this?”

“Look at that freak, three eyes.”
“Come on Jim, don't go by her, she's got the sign of the devil.”
“Jane dear, come away from the monster.”
“Three eyes ain't normal, she deserves to be in the ground!”

Marie stared at the television, the harsh words she had heard over the last week echoed in her ears. With a blank face, she headed to the kitchen and with a knife in her hand, she headed up the stairs and to the bathroom.

“Marie, my dear, you didn’t have to do this,” he whispered as his gloved hand gripped the handle of the knife.
“What else was I supposed to do?” she asked and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to refrain from being angry at her.
“Not this,” he said. “Why not wait until I got here?”
“I wasn’t planning on summoning you,” Marie snapped.

“You’re not the only freak that can summon me,” he muttered before pulling the knife out in one swift motion. Marie pressed her hand against the open wound. There was no trace of blood on him as he set the bloody knife down on the bathroom floor. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Edward… I’m sick of this,” she whispered. There were tears on her cheeks and he brushed them away with his thumb.
“I know, my dear. It’s not long now,” he said. Any trace of bitterness or anger had melted away. His hand caressed her cheek.
“Promise?”
“I promise, my dear.”

Marie squeezed her eyes shut, the blood loss was making her head fuzzy but she knew she would wake up tomorrow. Even though Edward should have had blood on him, she was bleeding a lot, there was none. It was as if he hadn’t held a bloody knife or was kneeling in an expanding pool of blood. Marie figured it was because he was a ghost as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“I think I should leave you, my dear,” he said as he went to stand. Marie grabbed his wrist.
“Thank you.”
“Please try not to do this, Marie. I don’t want to see you like this or hear it through a story again,” he said softly. He lifted her hand from his arm and pressed a kiss to the back of it before standing and heading to the doorway.
“Goodbye,” she said weakly as her hand hung limp by her side.
“Goodbye, my dear.”