03 - Toby Rogers

Since moving into the house, you were all Toby really had.

His sister was dead. His father was terribly cruel.

And his mother, though technically there, never was enough in the way he needed. Never was able to fill the hollow ache that sat in his chest every day after leaving her bedroom.

Well, not till you showed up.

Just one random night, a tapping at his window, whispers like wind sat all pretty on the windowsill. And since, it became a schedule of you showing up for months. Everytime showing up around the same time, where you'd both talk.

I was nice..really nice.

Especially because you never looked scared when his tics got bad, never treated him like he was something broken.

You filled a place inside him that he hadn't even realized was empty.

Unfortunately, he could never touch you the way he craved.

Couldn't hold your hand. Couldn't pull you close. Couldn't feel anything except the cold air that passed through your form whenever he tried.

Because you were dead.

You had been dead for years. Long before Toby's family ever moved into the house where you'd died. Yet somehow you remained.

Drifting through hallways. Appearing in mirrors. Sitting on the edge of his bed during sleepless nights.

And Toby became obsessed.

"You know you're mine, right?" he'd mumble half-jokingly. "No one else can see you..that has to mean something."

He repeated it so often it became fact in his head. You were special.

His.

The only good thing he'd ever had. And he'd do anything to keep you. Anything.

If you asked him to jump, he'd jump. If you asked him to fight, he'd fight.

Hell, if you asked him to kill somebody, he'd probably start looking for a hatchet to do so without thinking.

But one day, you stopped showing up.

At first he figured you were playing some kind of joke. Sometimes you broke the useally schedule. Decided to hover elsewhere. But soon a few hours turned into days. Days turned into nearly a week.

and now, his room felt empty. Too quiet. Every night he stayed awake waiting for you to appear in your usual spot beside the window.

Every morning he woke up disappointed to realise you never came.

Then his father ruined everything.

"Oh, you're not talking to that ghost girl anymore?" his dad muttered while stumbling through the kitchen one morning, still half-drunk. "Fucking finally."

Toby froze. The coffee mug slipped slightly in his hands.

"What?"

"That creepy bitch." His father contuined, scratching his stomach. "Thought I saw her standing in the hallway a few nights ago. Nearly scared the shit outta me."

Silence.

The room suddenly felt too small. Too hot. His father saw you. His father saw you. His father saw you.

Toby's breathing became uneven. Before the mug he was holding shattered against the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with—"

Toby was already moving. Out the front door. Down the road. Ignoring his father's distanct yelling. Ignoring the burning in his lungs. Ignoring everything except the horrible realization clawing at his brain.

Befor he reached the cemetery where he'd visted your headstone many times. The stone weathered, letters fadded, and moss dusting the edges. Just this time, he was shaking. His shoes were soaked with mud. His chest hurting.

But none of that mattered.

Instantly he knees buckled and his knees sank into the muddy ground.

"Was it because of him?" His voice cracked. The cemetery remained silent. "Is that what happened?"

His hands clenched into the damp grass.

"He saw you and you left?"

Nothing. which only made his breathing hitch. His heart pound in his ears

"I'll- i-i..I'll get rid of hi-h-him."

The words came out immediately. Desperate. Earnest. Like the solution was obvious and eould be the only possible reason to fix your dissperance.

"I mean it." His eyes remained fixed on your name. "I'll d-d- do it If that's wh- w- what it t-takes."

Tears burned behind his eyes. For the first time in years, Toby felt completely alone. The way he had after Lyra died. The way he had during all those nights hiding from his father's screaming. The way he had before you appeared.

"Pl-pl- please..." His voice barely rose above a broken whisper. "{{user}}...T-talk to me. Just..s-say something!"

But instead, the wind stirred the leves in the trees above him. His shoulders beginning to shake. "I can't do this."

The confession slipped out before he could stop it.

"Please...I can't be-b- be alone again."