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… 'cause you like the way she looks at you.
…'cause you know that I am not lying.
…you are done here!
Bloody hell I’d managed to fuck it up with both Lucy and George. Their words rattled furiously in my head while I paced in my room, trying to figure out where everything went sideways.
They were both wrong, obviously. I was just upset because they’d both gotten hurt and it would’ve been my fault if it was worse than just a cut or… whatever it was that had happened to George. They’re my employees, my responsibility.
I simply couldn’t lose more people I cared about. That’s it.
George had no idea what he was talking about with his “cause you like the way she looks at you” bullshit. She doesn’t look at me any differently than anyone else.
Maybe he was jealous.
And LUCY - how dare she accuse me of being jealous. She was good, bloody brilliant in fact, but she was no Marissa Fittes. Clearly, something had gone wrong on the job and she was hallucinating.
Or maybe George was right and she is losing her sanity. She definitely wouldn’t be the first Listener to lose her mind.
Tea. I needed tea to stop the headache I could feel coming on.
Leaving my room, I caught sight of Jessica’s door.
And I am right about whatever is in that bloody room.
Fuck. I turned and walked up to it, slowly.
Was there something dangerous in here? No, of course not. Jessica’s ghost wasn’t lingering.
But maybe… maybe…
Maybe something worse was.
This room held the memories to my parents and Jessica. The non-literal ghosts of who I was and could never be again. The happy little Anthony who was loved, safe, and protected.
Maybe that was dangerous.
Was George right? Was I letting Lucy off easy because I liked the way she looked at me?
No. It was deeper than that. It wasn’t because of how she looked at me - it was because of how she made me feel.
Well… fuck .
Standing outside the door, I’d never wanted to hear Jessica’s voice more.
Please, Jessica, or mum or dad, please just tell me what to do.
Of course, I was greeted by silence.
Touching the door, I knew what she’d say: “Go fix it, Anthony.”
Maybe I was the one losing it. No matter, she was right. Time to go fix it, Lockwood.
Gathering up the medical supplies, I knew it was time to go apologize to Lucy. I would apologize to George too, of course, but her arm really did look bad and someone needed to fix it up. And she was too damn stubborn to go get it seen by a doctor so… sigh.
As I stood outside her door, it hadn’t occurred to me that she might not want to see me. (If I was her, I wouldn’t want to see me.) But, alas, even if this was done in silence, she still needed that damn cut cleaned.
Bracing myself, I knocked on her door.
“Yeah?”
Walking up the stairs, I could hear the thunder and rainfall outside. I’d forgotten how much louder storms sounded up here, so close to the roof. As a child, it scared me. Now, it seemed the appropriate background noise as I potentially walked into a very angry Lucy.
“Hi.” I tried to keep my voice calm, non-threatening. She wasn’t screaming at me yet so I took that as a sign to continue.
“Uh... I know I look like Anthony Lockwood, but I'm not. I'm actually a fully qualified doctor, so…” I cringed internally - could I be any more awkward?
“Good. 'Cause he was a massive prick to me just now.”
Yeah, ok I absolutely deserved that. I danced on the balls of my feet waiting for her decision. I would go and get George instead if she wanted; I just needed her to tell me what to do.
C’mon, Luce.
“Come on, then. Bring it in.”
Oh thank god.
Oh uh… ok I did not think this through. As she scooted around on the bed, I wasn’t sure where I should sit.
The bed it is, I guess. Sitting down and setting the medical supplies next to me, I realized I had absolutely no idea where to go from here.
Honestly, I didn’t even think she’d let me in so thinking about what came *after* was not part of the plan.
“Uh, I'm not sure what I should... “
Lucy, of course, was already well ahead of me. Without preamble, she laid her hand on my leg and pulled up her sleeve.
Oh bloody hell that looked much worse than I thought it would. Not that I was squeamish. No, more so I was in awe once again of how tough Lucy was.
“This is gonna hurt.”
Her mouth twitched in an almost smile. "Thanks for the warning.”
As I began to clean her cut, I knew I owed her an explanation for what happened earlier. Not an excuse, but an explanation.
“I was... I was orphaned at the age of six. So, uh... all I can say is I don't really enjoy talking about my past.”
I swallowed and out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lucy softening just the slightest bit. I wanted to look at her but I knew the second I did, I’d lose my nerve. So instead, I kept talking while cleaning her wound.
“And that's what's behind that door.”
“Okay.”
Oh ok. I was hoping for some kind of reaction beyond just an “okay.” But no matter. I cleared my throat and kept going. I knew that wasn’t the only thing I needed to apologize for and so did she.
“And, uh... you used it to convince me that, not only are you one of only two people in the history of the world to be able to talk to ghosts, but that we actually have a Type Three ghost in our house. You know, two events with one-in-a-billion probability. And the chances of you being right are…”
“I know. I wouldn't believe me either.”
Oh. No, Lucy, you don’t know. I continued talking as I grabbed the bandage to finish wrapping her cut.
“That's... not the problem. The problem is, when you like the spotlight as much as I do, it's quite an adjustment to realize that the real reason you might be here is to shine it on somebody else.”
Then, I finally had the courage to look at her. Shine on you - I hope she understood.
Without my say so, my eyes flickered to her lips before I immediately looked back up at her eyes.
She clocked it, of course. Now the question was whether she would acknowledge it.
For several moments, she looked into my eyes and it felt like she was trying to see into my very soul. She was looking for my sincerity and I tried to pour as much of it into my gaze as possible.
“You believe me,” she whispered.
“I do. About everything.”
She looked relieved and her eyes flitted to my own lips, lingering there for a few moments before returning to my eyes.
“Thanks.”
I put down the bandage wrappers and looked at the ground before I did something really stupid like kiss her.
Breaking the moment a bit, she said more loudly, “You know I don't actually want the spotlight, right?”
Oh she really needed to stop looking at my lips.
“I know,” I chuckled. “It's maddening.”
And then she smiled. That smile I knew then and there that I would kill for.
Fuck
“I suppose it would make me, uh... quite the asset, wouldn't it?”
I laughed. Yeah ok I deserved that.
“I'm not gonna make that mistake again.”
And I wouldn’t. She was too important to me to be thought of as merely an asset.
“We'll go carefully. I promise.”
As I gently played with her hand in mine, I hoped she understood the double meaning. Of course, I was talking about her and the skull but I was also talking about us . We’ll go carefully. Whatever this fragile thing was that was forming between us, we’d go carefully. We were both damaged but the pull between us was undeniable. And I’d hoped we were on the same page.
As we stared at each other’s lips, something between us broke. That bubble that we were in burst open and we both pulled apart.
But it didn’t matter. I was sure now that she did know what I was saying.
As she scooted away, I needed to do something to dispel this awkward haze over us.
“Uh, so, go on, then, what did it say?”
“Yeah, um... Well, he... he, um... he said he could smell power on me. He turned really nasty. Then he had this really weird prophecy about death.”
“Prophecy of death? Yeah, I know, I know. Big deal, right? But he... he seemed really sure of it. We should probably tell George.”
As I looked at her, I could only pray that she was ONLY referring to the death prophecy and not… whatever else had just happened between us.
Death prophecies I could handle.
Telling George about feelings? Absolutely not.