Phasmophobia

Phasmophobia 6

"You're dead."

It was strange, his sentence. I couldn't tell if he just threatened me or if he was serious. I'm dead? It wasn't connecting. I furrowed my brow, my mouth open in a half gasp, "I don't understand."

Garrett fixed his sleeve before taking a seat across from me, sitting crisscrossed with his hands hiding his face until realization seemed to strike him. His gaze met mine and he looked afraid, "You don't remember?" He shook his head and turned away, thinking.

What was I suppose to remember, how he kidnapped me? There were no memories before my first day here, nothing, except concrete connections to who I was. The orphanage, my school, my dreams, my whole life. I can remember them but I can't live them, can't put myself back into them.

He cut back into my thoughts, "You died, Emma..and I guess I killed you."

I just stared at him.

"You were so alive and I had to have that, had to have you with me, as banal as that sounds," he laughed to himself before becoming serious, his little smile becoming a frown fast, "So I followed you everyday, took note of everything you did until.." He swallowed hard, his breathing shaky, his trembling hands matching my own.

I wasn't ready to believe him. How could I if I couldn't even remember any of it?

"You've been dead for three years, Emma. You should be twenty-two years old right now but you're forever stuck at nineteen," Garrett's face grew soft and he gave me a faint smile, "I'm glad it wiped your memory of that night."

"I decided to make myself known to you and too soon it seemed. You were walking alone and that night I just couldn't take being one step away from you all the time so I got your attention, told you about me and what we could be together. I guess you couldn't handle it."

"You ran across the street. You were going to leave me, Emma. It was dark and you didn't see the car.." He sighed and I finally saw him shed a tear, his voice cracking as he spoke, "You died in my arms."

I couldn't help but cry myself. Garrett hid his head in his hands once more and shared the pain. No, his pain was nothing like mine, "You're sick..." I shook my head and went to stand, going for the door despite my situation. If he stops me, he stops me, I just couldn't stay any longer.

I darted for the door, swinging it open and barging out into the harsh light. I could hear Garrett yelling behind me to stop, could hear his heavy steps far away, until I saw the front door and I took my chance.

The handle turned with a satisfying click and I was greeted with a blast of cold air. It was winter but it was only starting, the grass still yearning for the sun's light and peeking out of the snow. I ran out, almost sliding across the ground. I could faintly see what seemed to be a highway but it was a long driveway and I didn't know if I was going to make it.

Suddenly, I was blasted at the side, falling to the freezing ground with a yell. I frantically looked to see who attacked me and I was met with Michael's harsh face. He didn't say a word as he hauled me up and dragged me back inside, slamming the door shut with so much force a picture frame was knocked to the floor.

Garrett was angry, that much was obvious. Any evidence of tears were long gone and he stood in the almost empty room glaring at me. I was still crying, worse now, as Michael made me stand between them with my back against his chest.

"You told her." It wasn't a question, just a statement much to my curiosity.

Garrett didn't speak.

"You shouldn't have." I felt Michael's hands leave my arms and he disappeared behind me and walked toward Garrett, ramming his shoulder into his friend out of anger.

I didn't know what to do, standing there in shock and in a terrible cold. I was in trouble that much I knew, but not what would happen to me. Garrett pulled me over to the small kitchen that I never noticed before, forcing me to sit beside him, to sit across from Michael. He had pulled out a bag of what I guessed to be blood, it could be no other thing, and was slowing dripping its contents into a cup full of hot liquid. When he was satisfied with the amount, he passed the cup to me and waited.

"I won't-"

"Drink it." Michael was calm but something lurked in his tone.

I was shaking, "No, I-"

His voice rose; he was screaming at me, "Drink it now!"

I looked to Garrett, but he sat quiet keeping his gaze off of me. He had his arm rested against the back of my chair, and I could feel the warmth pour off of him. I felt myself lose hope and without hesitating, I grabbed the cup and downed the entire drink, despite the heat searing as it went down and the disgusting metallic taste of the blood. I coughed sheepishly before Garrett intercepted the mug and plopped the ceramic piece down on the wood table.

Michael spoke, "We make you do that to keep you here. You're dead, remember?"

I didn't say anything as Michael looked to his friend, "I taught Garrett how to bring you back and he did but he wasn't suppose to tell you everything, just that you died. That's why I tried telling you before, so you'd understand, so things could be easier for the both of you."

He cleared his throat, "Anyway, Garrett's earthy tie or whatever is what is keeping you here. You drink from him, you get to stay on earth. You don't, you pass on." He explained it like it was an everyday thing and it seemed it was to him.

"Pass on?"

"And never come back. This is your one and only chance to stay alive."

This was a joke. I started laughing, a big smile on my face, "You can't be serious. How do I even know if I'm dead? You two could be lying to my face right now and I wouldn't even know. There's nothing you can do that'll prove to me that I'm dead." I raised my voice and hoped they wouldn't retaliate.

Garrett laughed along with me, but something lurked underneath. I watched him light the cigarette in his mouth and pocket the lighter, taking a drag and blowing out the smoky toxins. His hand brushed the holder of his knife, gently grabbing the handle and bringing the blade to light, "Of course there is..."