Her grip on my shoulders loosened, her hands sliding down to my wrists. Her mouth parted and a thin—and shockingly long—tongue darted out, touching my cheek and licking it in a long upward motion, before slithering back between her flaking lips. Even in my daze, I couldn’t help but be grossed out. Ugh. She grinned more mirthfully than ever and then, with one strong thrust, pushed me back into the pool. Sinking underwater, I drifted down, down, to the bottom of the pool, unable to find the strength to even move myself upward.
“Joseph,” Nolan called to me. “What happened to you?”
His blurry outline arrived at my side along with Chantel, and then the form of Marcilla approached, hovering near my feet. I lay on my back, stretched out, staring up at the still surface. I couldn’t bring myself to talk. Not yet.
I just shook my head. But they both should’ve guessed what had happened to me.
“He needs some space,” Marcilla murmured. “Given time, I think he will recover. This was only his first escape attempt—their mind torture would’ve been a shock, but this boy is strong.”
Nolan and Chantel remained next to me a few moments longer before backing away with Marcilla.
“This boy is strong.” Marcilla’s statement echoed around in my head.
I needed to be strong. I needed to be. For my family. For River.
But lying here in the gloom of The Underworld, I’d never felt weaker in my life.
Ben
Time lost all meaning as I lay at the base of the pool. I was vaguely aware of Chantel and Nolan drifting over to me again after a few hours, gazing into my eyes and asking if I was all right. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I was sure that other ghosts also approached to take a look at me, but I barely saw them. My eyes glazed over even as I knew that I needed to keep them open. I needed to keep alive whatever spark of consciousness I still had within me. I couldn’t become a victim of The Underworld. That was what the ghouls wanted.
But even now that I was out of the coffin, away from the ghoul’s poisonous touch, and although my intelligence told me that none of the things that I’d witnessed in there were real, my mind still latched onto the visions as though they were the gospel truth.
My eyes closed, and I drifted in and out of awareness. Even the quiet mutterings of the ghosts surrounding me disappeared as I lost myself deeper and deeper into a pit of despair and hopelessness, a depression like I’d never known before.
And I would’ve sunk deeper still had a familiar voice not forced its way into my mind. A female voice, shouting my name right near my ear. It was so loud, I couldn’t ignore it. In my semi-conscious state, I’d thought that perhaps it was Chantel, but there was no French accent to this voice, and it sounded too young to be Marcilla’s.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
Finally, unable to quell my curiosity, I lifted my leaden eyelids, and found myself staring up into a pair of light blue eyes framed by locks of wild, curly, blonde hair. She might’ve shared the same hair color, but this was definitely not Chantel. My vision came further into focus and in my shock, I found within me the strength to sit bolt upright.
“Kailyn?” I breathed, my eyes bulging. She was a ghost, like me.
I couldn’t believe it. Was this another dream, albeit a more pleasant one?
She looked just as shocked to see me as I felt to see her.
“Oh, God!” she gasped, moving out to touch me… though of course, her hand just passed through my cheek.
The sight of Kailyn—a relic of my old life—brought with it a rush of relief. A sense of grounding. Of belief that yes, there was another world beyond this dead realm. And I had been a part of it, once, not so long ago… And I remembered now how she’d died.
“What happened to you?” she urged.
“What happened to you?” I managed, even though it was hardly difficult to guess how she’d gotten down here.
“Th-There was a fire in my and Aiden’s cabin—a fire that sparked so abruptly and spread so furiously, I didn’t even have a chance to escape. And I became… this.” Kailyn cast her eyes down upon her wispy form. “I hung around The Shade for a while, but it was”—her voice broke—“just so painful to stay there. To watch your grandfather mourn for me. I felt a beckoning of my soul, elsewhere… beyond. I left The Shade and drifted across the ocean. I found some other ghosts who told me likely the same myth you were told.” Again she gaped at me. “What happened to you, Ben?”
“Ben?” A voice spoke behind Kailyn. It was Marcilla floating nearby, a look of confusion on her face. “I thought his name was Joseph.”
Kailyn turned to Marcilla and spoke to her with familiarity, explaining that my name was Benjamin and not Joseph. The women must have met already.
Kailyn turned back to me. “What happened?” she pressed.
As with my uncle, I was not in the mood to recount my story… a story that was slowly returning to my mind after the torture I had endured. Perhaps there would be time to explain it all later. For now I just replied in a voice that was far lower than usual, “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
Kailyn nodded slowly, understandingly, although there was heartbreak in her eyes. “That’s all right,” she whispered. “But would you tell me what happened to you just now? You tried to escape?”
I eyed her warily and nodded.
She shuddered. “I tried too,” she murmured. “I also got caught.”