The professor’s accusation hit me like a slap to the face. I barely knew how to respond. He recognized the argument Juliet had practically dictated to me for my paper on the Fall of the House of Usher, and now he thought I’d stolen another student’s thesis. The name Juliet Reed meant nothing to him, he claimed.
But to me, it meant everything. Juliet was my only friend, a ghost bound to the campus Library. No one else could see her. No one else could hear her.
And now my professor was using her name against me. I rushed into the library, my heels echoing against the creaking wooden floors, my mind spinning. Juliet lounged by one of the dark shelves, raising an eyebrow as I approached. So, she began with a mischievous grin, how did it go with Tom?
Did he like your—
I cut her off. My literature professor accused me of cheating. He recognized the argument you told me to write. He specifically accused me of copying your thesis.
A flicker of something that might be satisfaction crossed her features before she schooled them again. So he’s read my thesis, she said with a casual shrug. He can’t prove anything. .
Professors love throwing out accusations to keep students in line. It makes them feel empowered. I stared at her, hurt creeping into my voice. This isn’t a joke, Juliet.
I could lose my scholarship over this. I don’t think you understand how dire the situation is. I know a thing or two about dire situations, Juliet said, her eyes hardening. I’m dead, remember?
Ever wondered what that felt like? I froze. She never mentioned her ghostly predicament, and when she did, it was only in jest. I’m sorry, I exclaimed, feeling awful.
You’re right, I shouldn’t be complaining to you when all you’ve ever done is—
Her expression softened. It’s okay to be worried about your future, Lydia. But everything will be fine, okay? I’ll take care of it.
She said it with the natural confidence of someone who’s never faced a problem they couldn’t solve. It was baffling, especially since she’d just been complaining about being dead a moment before. How can I discuss it when I barely remember what you told me to write in it? I sighed in despair.
I’m supposed to meet with Professor Aldridge in an hour. He has eyes that seem to pierce right into your soul. Something cold flickered behind Juliet’s gaze. You find him attractive, then?
I gaped, a blush creeping up my cheek. What? No, I um, I didn’t take you for the college professor fantasy type of girl, she quipped, though with a dangerous edge to it, almost like a warning. He’s not someone you fantasize about, I exclaimed.
He’s someone who makes you realize how small you are in his presence. Juliet studied me for a moment, it lasted entirely too long, and then a slow, satisfied smile spread across her face. Well, now I have to see this for myself, she declared. I stared at her, confused.
How would you even do that? You can’t leave this library. She stepped closer, her gaze intent. I can, if you let me.
Step inside you, just for a little while. She added, noticing my stupefied expression. You mean, possess me? Juliet smiled enthusiastically.
Such a scary word. You’d still be you, Lydia, but I’d be able to see through your eyes and speak to you in your mind. My heart pounded. I don’t know, Juliet.
This doesn’t sound very—
But you wouldn’t have to worry about what to say to your hot professor anymore, she argued with a light smirk. I’d be right there with you, telling you what to say. Trust me, he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand in no time. A furious blush heated my cheeks at the thought, which Juliet didn’t fail to notice.
We could also pay that Tom guy a little visit afterwards, she whispered. Get you that date you’ve been dreaming of. I bit my lip. How many times had I hoped Juliet could be there to witness my interactions with Tom?
Unless you prefer we focus on Professor smoldering authority, of course, she said with a wink. Of course not, I squeaked. He’s a very good-looking man, but I told you I’m not interested in him like that at all. Whatever, Juliet let out a soft laugh, the sound airy and comforting.
Don’t worry, we’ll do whatever you want. I hesitated, a deep instinctual fear twisting in my gut. But then I remembered Aldridge’s stern gaze, the way he practically dismissed me as a fraud. If I can’t convince him, I could lose everything.
Will it hurt? Juliet’s smile was gentle, almost maternal. Of course not. Don’t you trust me?
Her words soothed some of my fear, and I nodded reluctantly. Okay, I whispered, but only for today, and only for this. Juliet’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Perfect, she said.
And before I could say another word, she stepped forward, her form shimmering. Here’s what you need to do,
I sensed her presence, a second consciousness brushing up against mine as I made my way down the dim corridor. My footsteps echoed softly, the weight of what was about to happen filling my chest with dread. But Juliet’s voice filled my mind, low and pleased.
Relax, Lydia. All you need to do is trust me. I swallowed, feeling a confusing mix of my own nerves and something almost eager, something that belonged entirely to Juliet’s. I knocked on my professor’s door.
Come in, his voice called, steady and stern. A faint scent of leather and polished wood greeted me as I entered, mingling with the lightest trace of his cologne. I’d miss that smell. Sensing it again was like a veritable punch to the gut, except it only felt like that because Juliet was part of me now.
Lydia, he was leaning back in his chair, blue eyes fixed on me as I stepped in. Please sit. Why did Professor Aldridge look so good today? It was hard to focus on anything other than how he sat, how he moved.
Don’t be shy, Juliet soothed my mind. Go on, look at him. I let my gaze drift lower, settling on his lips, firm and slightly parted against the desk. His long fingers flexed in a way that made my heart pound as I imagined the weight of them along my arm, or tangled in my hair, guiding me with a firmness I hadn’t expected but suddenly craved.
A soft shiver ran down my spine, my skin prickling as if I’d shared moments like this with him before. My professor cleared his throat. So, he began. I assume you’re aware of the severity of these allegations?
I swallowed, my voice faltering. I didn’t copy anything, Professor. I swear. His gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, his scent dark, musky, earthy surrounding me.
Do you think me naive, Lydia? His voice barely above a whisper. You and I both know that your last paper went far beyond—
His words got drawn out, behind Juliet’s voice, steady and urging. Let me.
A cool confidence rolled through me as Juliet guided me forward, one hand reaching out to rest lightly on the edge of his desk. Matthew, I said softly, my lips curving as I noticed his eyes widen. Can I call you Matthew? Juliet asked, and a slight panic ran through me.
That wasn’t me. That was her. I would never. Meanwhile, Professor Aldridge looked downright furious.
No, you may not, he snapped, his tone rougher than before. I would have jumped out of my seat without Juliet, who made me tilt my head just so to meet his gaze, feeling shy. Are we, she asked with a smirk? His breathing shifted, catching slightly, then he recoiled.
I don’t know what you’re playing at, he barked, furious, but if you think for a second you can get away with plagiarism by doing whatever it is you’re thinking of. Shame filled me, but Juliet was laughing in my mind. He’s flustered, she told me. A thrill sparked in my chest, mixing with a deep satisfaction that didn’t quite feel like my own.
I felt my body lean forward, the faintest hint of a smile on my lips. My professor’s attention focused on me. He was angry, yes, but he was looking at me. Look, sir, let’s cut to the chase.
You have no proof I’ve cheated, and if you check the library records, you’ll find no trace of me ever going into the archives. Whose work am I meant to have copied, again? His face paled, and he leaned back slightly, his hand tightening around a pen. Go on, Matthew, Juliet nudged, her tone lilting, seductive.
Say her name. That’s enough, he bit back, but his voice was quieter, strained. Fine, Juliet shrugged, indifferent, except there was something in his gaze, a flicker of grief or regret that made my chest ache. I couldn’t tell if it was me or Juliet feeling it.
I leaned forward further. What do you think of my hair? I asked, my voice slipping into a near whisper. He stiffened as his eyes flickered to the orange silk still knitted into my brown locks.
Does it remind you of her? I pushed. I inched my hand closer, close enough that my fingers grazed his wrist. His skin was warm, and I felt a shiver of satisfaction ripple through me when he swallowed, his throat working as he struggled to maintain his composure.
Get out of my office, he snapped, but his voice waivered. Don’t think I won’t be looking for proof,
Inside my mind, Juliet’s laughter echoed in soft, pleased bells. Maybe we could talk about it, she said. 6:00 p.
m. tonight, our place. He paled, his expression a mess of confusion and something raw, something that made him look like he was struggling to keep control. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and conflicted, sent a thrill through me.
Leave, he managed, his voice tight. I rose slowly, his gaze following the movement. Once I was outside his office, what just happened hit me as coldly as the crisp autumn air. I couldn’t deny that something about the encounter was utterly thrilling, but it also dawned upon me that Juliet, who said she’d just be watching the world from behind my eyes, had been running the entire show.
Five. As I stepped outside, the cold autumn air bit into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill settling in my bones. Juliet, my voice faltered as I searched for the words. Oh, shush, Juliet cut in, her voice filling my mind like an intoxicating fog.
You loved it. There was a dark satisfaction in her tone that made my stomach twist. No, Juliet, I whispered, my voice barely audible. You did this.
What exactly are you trying to do with Professor Aldridge? You were supposed to help me convince him, not flirt with him. And I did, she interrupted, a hint of irritation lacing her tone. But men like these need to be put in their place.
He wasn’t going to drop it by asking nicely. She paused, her voice shifting, becoming softer, almost coaxing. I did it for you. To protect you.
You need to keep your scholarship, remember? Before I could respond, a voice cut into our conversation. Lydia, are you all right? Tom was standing nearby, watching me with a concerned expression.
I’m fine, I stammered, pulling back slightly as I realized how I must look, flustered, flushed, and still half dazed from the encounter. I forced a small smile, but his concern didn’t waver. You sure? His voice was gentle.
You look a little pale. I felt Juliet retreating just barely, as if letting me fumble through the moment. Her presence hovered in the back of my mind, watching, waiting. I nodded, gesturing vaguely.
Of course, yeah, totally fine. Tom eventually nodded. All right, if you’re sure. He turned, his footsteps receding down the hall.
A pang of desperation tugged at my chest. I wanted to call him back, to somehow keep him here. My silence filled me with regret, and I felt Juliet’s influence seeping back in. Babe, she whispered.
You’re letting him slip right through your fingers. I watched Tom’s figure grow smaller, the confidence I’d felt moments ago fading like a distant memory. Fine, I muttered. Help me.
Juliet’s satisfaction was immediate. She took control smoothly, raising my voice with a cool confidence that felt foreign. So, when are you planning to do it? Tom stopped, looking back with a frown.
Do what? Ask me on a date, Juliet replied, curling my lips into a slow smile. Tom’s expression shifted from confusion to surprise. Do you want me to?
Juliet’s voice was playful, yet firm. Guess we’ll find out, won’t we? Tom laughed, the sound of it surprised but warm. All right, then.
Lydia, would you like to go out sometime? A smile spread across my lips. Thought you’d never ask, she said. Tom’s eyes lit up.
Great, I’ll text you. He turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder one last time. As soon as he was gone, I exhaled, realizing just how quickly my heart was racing. How did you do that?
I asked, stunned. He said yes straight away. You said yes, Juliet said. It’s called confidence, darling.
You’ll see, it works wonders. I smiled, feeling our usual bond once more. Juliet was my friend. I reminded myself.
I could trust her. She helped me. Should we head back to the library then? I asked.
Silence. Juliet? I insisted, a sense of unease prickling my skin. Shouldn’t we go back there so you can leave my body?
At her next words, my heart stilled. I can’t leave yet, Lydia. You still need me. Panic rose in my throat.
To do what? You’ve got Tom to ask me out, and Professor Aldridge. Juliet’s laughter filled my mind. Lydia, my poor naive little friend.
Professor Aldridge isn’t about to drop this plagiarism nonsense. He’s stubborn as a dog with a bone, that one. Her voice shifted, becoming colder, almost calculating. You’re going to need me around for a little longer.
Trust me. Her tone was so certain, so unbothered, that a suspicion gnawed at me. You told him to meet you at your place earlier. Why do you and this man have a place?
Juliet, how do you know him? Her voice dropped to a near whisper, soft yet forceful. Are you going to let me handle this once and for all, or not? I hesitated, the conflict building inside me as I struggled to reconcile the thrill of Juliet’s presence with the feeling of losing control.
But the thought of facing Professor Aldridge without her filled me with dread. Fine, I murmured, a shiver of resignation running through me. What exactly are you planning? A long pause.
Then Juliet’s voice, low and eager, filled my mind with a pleasure I could almost taste. Simple: we’re going to seduce your professor. And when he caves, he’ll have nothing on you. I swallowed, my pulse quickening at her words.
Six. The wind cut through my coat, and I pulled it tighter, willing myself to feel less exposed. The bench I was sitting on was rough and cold, and the whole park felt emptier with every passing second. Night would be setting soon.
Juliet, I don’t think he’s coming, I muttered, trying to keep my voice even. And why would he? He never once showed any interest in me. Juliet’s laugh sounded in my mind, but it was hollow and defensive.
This isn’t about you. There was an edge of strain in her voice, when she was trying to hide something. He’ll come. You’ll see.
I frowned, an uneasy suspicion pricking at me. You still haven’t explained how you seem to know him so well. There was a pause, the silence stretching taut between us. When she finally responded, her voice was too quick, too dismissive.
Men like him are all the same. Simple enough to figure out, if you have a brain. But as she spoke, I felt a slight shift, her focus flickering, her attention snapping to my watch. The minutes were ticking by, and she was watching them too closely.
I think she was nervous. You’re afraid he’s not going to show, I said, the realization hitting me. There was a tight scoff, almost defensive. Don’t be ridiculous.
Why would I be nervous? I was about to let it go, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. Because something happened between you two, didn’t it? She didn’t answer.
Her silence was loud, heavy, brimming with a thousand things unsaid. I felt her grip tighten, holding me in place as if she was trying to bury whatever was simmering beneath the surface. I pressed on. The truth was so close, I could feel it just out of reach.
Don’t lie to me, Juliet. Ever since we’ve been sharing my body, I’ve been feeling things. Things? She asked.
Feelings, I snapped. Strong feelings for a man I barely know, who’s my professor, and probably twice my age. I could almost feel the memory of his hand, warm and close, the ghost of his presence lingering. I looked down, cheeks warming as I remembered the strange longing that washed over me in his office, the way I’d felt drawn to him in ways I never had before.
I always thought he was attractive, sure, but nothing, nothing like this. When I was in his office, it was different. It was like—I hesitated, the word felt raw, vulnerable. Like longing.
Juliet snorted, a sharp, cold sound, cutting me off. Longing? You wouldn’t know longing if it stared you in the face. That did it.
My patience shattered. Oh, come off it, Juliet. You and I both know these aren’t my feelings. They’re yours.
And you keep hiding things from me. I’m letting you borrow my body. You could at least be honest and tell me the truth. I tried to get up, feeling the impulse to walk away, to give her a reason to finally talk.
But I couldn’t move. Juliet’s control held me down, pinning my legs in place, my body rooted to the bench. Juliet, I said, my voice quaking, panic welling up. Let me go.
It’s completely dark out now, and the wind picked up, cutting through my coat. I tried to pull free again, but Juliet’s grip was like iron, and it only tightened as my fear grew. Juliet, I said, my voice sharp. I never agreed to this.
She stayed quiet, holding me still as if she was bracing against something inside herself. But her silence only made the feeling worse. I was losing a part of myself. It was like I was fading away.
Will you just drop it? I asked, my voice breaking, because it was clear, it was clear he wasn’t coming. And why would he be? A wave of emotion crashed over me, raw and fierce, hitting me like a punch to the gut.
Despair coiled in my chest, sharp and unyielding, rising until it choked me. Anguish, helplessness, a deep unbearable loneliness, and I couldn’t tell where it ended or began, whether it was her grief or mine. My breath caught, and hot tears spilled down my cheeks before I even knew I was crying. Juliet, I choked out, gasping through the flood of emotions.
Please, tell me. Just tell me what happened. The cold pressed against me, cutting through my coat, filling me with a dread that twisted deeper and deeper. You can trust me.
My throat was raw as I forced out the words, pleading. We’re friends, remember? I can help you. The wind whipped through the trees, scattering leaves across the empty path.
I could almost feel something shift within her, a flicker of hesitation, vulnerability, just a sliver of it. And I held my breath, waiting for her to open up. But then her presence tightened, hardening like steel. She let out a bitter laugh, sharp and cutting.
Screw it. Before I could respond, my body lurched up from the bench, my legs carrying me briskly down the path. I felt a sudden surge of panic, like I was slipping further from myself with every step. Wait, Juliet, where are you going?
She kept moving. My feet pounded against the path. Her grip on my muscles was unforgiving. Seven.
The mist had thickened as we neared the library, its looming silhouette shadowed against the darkening sky. The walk across campus felt heavier than usual, every step weighed down by Juliet’s silence and my attempts to reach her. I tried again, my voice low, almost pleading. Juliet, please, can’t we just talk about this?
I didn’t mean to—
She said nothing. Her control over my legs didn’t waver. She led me straight to the library entrance. The doors creaked open as we stepped inside, and the familiar scent of old wood and paper surrounded us.
It was quiet. The kind of quiet that made every sound seem louder than it was. Now what? I asked softly.
Her voice cut through, bitter and cold. Now, we say goodbye. Since you’re so desperate to be rid of me. I scrambled for the words, my chest aching with guilt.
Juliet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. She didn’t respond. But before I could push further, a voice from behind made me freeze.
Lydia? I turned to find Professor Aldridge standing in the shadows between the shelves. Who are you talking to? Oh, no.
He must have heard me. My mind blanked as he stepped into the light, his expression a mixture of curiosity and something darker, something I couldn’t quite read. No one, Professor, I stammered, my voice too soft, too unsure. I was just speaking to myself.
He arched an eyebrow. To yourself? I wanted to turn and leave, to escape his scrutinizing gaze, but he stepped forward, blocking my path. His expression was tense, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
I checked the archives, he said, his tone clipped. It seems you were telling the truth. He said it like it was a bad thing, and his displeasure sent a wave of discomfort through me. Of course I didn’t cheat, Professor, I murmured.
His jaw tightened. He didn’t believe me. Juliet’s presence stirred, her voice creeping into my mind. Ask him why he cares so much.
Why do you care so much? I asked, the words slipping out almost involuntarily. He stopped, his eyes widening just slightly. Why do I care?
A person’s work deserves respect, especially when they can no longer defend it. It’s despicable to steal from someone. But someone, someone who’s no longer here—His voice cut off, sounding pained. Juliet’s influence pushed me further, her voice low and sharp in my mind.
So this isn’t about me cheating, then. You’re just upset this girl died. Professor Aldridge recoiled. The words hit him with an intensity that took him aback.
For a moment, he looked almost wounded. What? He whispered. Seeing the raw anguish on his face, I felt a surge of guilt.
Juliet, what are you doing? I pleaded silently, hoping she’d stop. But she ignored me, her presence unyielding. Desperate to deescalate, I managed to regain control, forcing my voice into something softer, more careful.
Professor, Juliet was your student, I’m guessing. That’s why you feel so strongly about protecting her work. It must have been a shock when she died. His jaw clenched, and he briefly looked away.
But I caught the flicker of grief, the subtle tightening around his eyes. There was a pause before I asked. How did she die? A car accident.
Juliet’s anger flared within me, hot and immediate, her voice cutting through with raw emotion. She died of a broken heart. Professor Aldridge’s eyes widened. Why would you say that?
His voice was strained. Juliet pushed forward, her tone bitter and piercing. I heard she was in love with someone who never cared about her, who abandoned her. Her accusation hung in the air, heavy and sharp as the professor’s shoulders tensed.
You, you don’t know what you’re talking about, he stammered. I know exactly what I’m talking about, Juliet replied, following him as he tried to back away. I’m not a child, and I know what I want. I know what I feel.
Professor Aldridge’s pace quickened, his back turned to me, his posture tense and rigid, like he was holding himself together by a thread. Juliet’s voice hardened, emotion spilling out through my words. You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? Just because you’re older and more experienced, you get to decide everything.
I don’t have a say. Were you ever planning to tell me about your transfer? He froze, his shoulders taut. But Juliet didn’t stop, her anger spilling over, raw and defiant.
And by the way, she sneered, I Stand My Ground. Wuthering Heights isn’t about obsession. It’s about love. And if you can’t see that, maybe you’re not as brilliant as you think.
Aldridge flipped around, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief, his eyes wide as he stared at me. We haven’t discussed Wuthering Heights together, he said, his gaze raw and desperate. Yes, we have, Juliet replied. We discussed it multiple times.
In class, in your office, here. That time we celebrated my birthday, and you somehow got drunker than me. Well, of course I did. You’re not allowed to drink, Professor Aldridge barked, before snapping his mouth shut, a look of pure distress on his face.
Through Juliet, I felt a rush of satisfaction at seeing him look so lost and anguished. Happy to finally experience what it’s like having the upper hand with this man. He closed his eyes, like he couldn’t bear the sight of me anymore. Juliet might enjoy it, but I just felt sorry for him.
Juliet, I told her. That’s enough. Come on. She ignored me, taking a step towards our professor.
Matthew, she said, making him flinch. You even say my name like she did, he murmured, face pinched into a wounded expression, his fists clenched by his side. My heart raced, a mixture of her anticipation and my own panic. But Juliet didn’t hesitate.
She tilted her face up to his, and in a whisper that felt like a spell, she murmured. Matthew. At the sound of his name, something inside him snapped. He reached for me, no, for her, pulling her roughly against him.
His touch was fierce and urgent, and the press of his lips so full of desperation, so raw, it was almost painful. His mouth claimed mine, starving. And as our kiss deepened, he let out a soft groan, low and guttural, the sound vibrating against my lips. It was intoxicating.
His need crashed over me like a wave. Every nerve in my body was alight with a sensation I’d never felt before. I could feel Juliet’s emotions surging within me, the longing she’d harbored all this time filling me with a raw ache that was somehow mine and not mine. I was both horrified and captivated, caught between the two of them, and somehow against my better judgment, I found myself responding.
My hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the strength beneath his shirt. I found myself leaning into him, my body softening, giving in to the moment. This man, who seemed so distant, so impossibly out of reach, was now here, pressing himself against me like I was the only thing holding him together, like I was the only thing he’d ever wanted. There was a possessiveness in his grip, an intensity I’d never experienced before, and it made me feel seen, desired, like I mattered in a way I’d never dared to believe.
Eight. I couldn’t stop. Juliet’s longing, Matthew’s touch, my own forbidden thrill, it all twisted together, a tangle of sensations pulling me deeper until I was drowning in it. The tangle of emotions, each one urgent and overpowering, pulled me along, dizzying and unstoppable.
I couldn’t think clearly. Juliet’s elation, her fierce happiness at being with Matthew again, flooded me completely. I was swept up, allowing myself to be pulled along as he took my hand, leading us up the winding staircase of the old clock tower. The air felt thick with anticipation, each step echoing again against the stone walls.
The tower loomed over the entire campus, cloaked in shadow, as we climbed higher and higher. At each landing, he stopped, turning around, his gaze intense, searching my face. A flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but Juliet always knew exactly what to say or do, tilting her head just so, giving him a knowing look, saying something only they would understand. Their history felt real, tangible, something I’d intruded on but couldn’t quite pull myself from.
The air grew thinner, and I was breathless, not just from the climb but from the weight of Juliet’s emotions, her sorrow and desperation. It was almost suffocating, an intensity that filled my chest until I didn’t know what was hers and what was mine. At the top, we reached the small platform overlooking the misty campus. The air was sharp and cool, carrying the distant sounds of life below us.
But here, it was silent. A world in and of itself. Matthew turned to me, his gaze soft and vulnerable, his hands coming up to cup my face. How is this possible?
He whispered, his voice trembling. Are you really here? Juliet’s answer was a kiss, a touch that stretched out the quiet, like she was trying to bind herself to him forever. Does this not feel real to you?
She murmured. He closed his eyes, as if the answer was too painful to face. But he breathed, his voice trembling. You died, Jules.
I felt Juliet’s panic surge before I could process it. Her lips were on his again, a plea not to pull away. I felt my hand slipping under his shirt, my fingers grazing his skin, his body so solid, so real beneath my touch. He broke away, his chest heaving, holding my hands at bay.
And what about Lydia? The name rang between us, and the hurt that filled Juliet was sharp, cutting through her joy like a knife. I felt it too, the bitterness, the sting of betrayal. But at the same time, a strange warmth unfurled within me, an odd sense of validation that Matthew would think of me at a moment like this.
Lydia isn’t here, Juliet said, her voice trembling with bitterness. She’s gone. But the words were hollow, as they were somehow empowering. I could feel my own will pushing back against her, a surge of desperation as I clawed my way to the surface.
My hand reached out of its own accord, catching Matthew’s wrist. Professor, help me. Lydia? He whispered, voice raw and breaking.
Juliet’s anger flared white hot, and she shoved me back, her voice thundering in my mind. Shut up, she snarled. You’re ruining everything. You want him for yourself?
I shook my head, the panic rising again. I don’t want him, I managed to whisper, my voice choked. I just want my body back. Matthew’s hands gripped Juliet’s shoulders, shaking slightly as he looked at her with pleading eyes.
Juliet, he whispered, his voice thick with grief and anger. What did you do to Lydia? Juliet’s composure shattered, her voice trembling with hurt as she lashed out. Now you even care more about her than me?
Did you ever even care about me at all, or was I just another girl in a long line of students? His face crumpled, and I could see the way his body slumped, as if her words had struck something deep within him. Juliet, he said, his voice barely a whisper. There was never anyone else.
I haven’t been with anyone, not since I met you. For a moment, her anger was replaced by a fragile relief that I felt settle in my own chest. She looked at him. Then now we can be together, she said, pressing her lips to his, fervent, desperate.
Nine. Juliet’s elation poured through me. But beneath it, I was screaming, clawing desperately to reach the surface. Let me go, Juliet.
My thoughts were frantic, begging. But she didn’t listen, holding on to control like a lifeline. You don’t understand, she whispered, her voice taut, filled with a fierce yearning that blurred my thoughts with her own. I’ve waited so long for him to love me, to have me.
I can’t let him go. Her words echoed within me, hollow. Then tell him that, I said, thinking back on all those stories about how ghosts always need a sense of closure to find peace. But she recoiled, her hold tightening.
I can’t. He’ll only reject me again. Matthew’s grip on my shoulders tightened, his voice breaking as he spoke. Jules, I’ve always loved you.
I never stopped. When you died that day, part of me died with you. The admission trembled through me, a heartbeat of pain and longing that was nearly unbearable. Juliet faltered, and in the silence, I could feel her pain, raw and unfiltered.
But you were so young, Matthew murmured against my hair. I couldn’t let myself feel that way. It wasn’t right. I shivered.
Memories of him sitting beside me, or beside Juliet, flooded my mind. I saw him laughing, talking animatedly, handing me coffee. I saw him making me food, falling asleep against my shoulder, handing me his coat to protect me from the cold. And finally, I saw him leaving, pulling me close, claiming my mouth.
You ran, Juliet accused. You made me the happiest I’d ever been. And then you left. Her voice cracked, the question twisting with old wounds.
I was trying to protect you, he interrupted softly, his gaze intense. I thought if I left, I could still stop it. Save you from being caught up in something that that would be seen as wrong. But it wasn’t wrong!
Juliet cried out. I loved you. I tried to find you. I came to your office.
I could almost see the memories unfolding in my own mind, vivid and sharp as if I’d lived them myself. I remembered her waiting in his office, nervously fidgeting, planning to confess everything, her feelings, the need to end their game of cat and mouse, to finally have something real. But instead, you were planning to leave me for good, Juliet choked out, her voice trembling. I found the letter on your desk.
You wanted to disappear, to leave me behind, like nothing ever mattered. Matthew’s face crumpled with grief. No, he whispered, his hands tightening on her shoulders. I resigned.
So we could be together. I didn’t want to keep hiding. I was going to tell you the night you died. Images flooded my mind.
A car speeding down a rain-soaked road. Her hands trembling on the wheel, her heart heavy with the belief that she’d lost him forever. I saw the lake looming ahead, the sickening impact, the cold water swallowing everything. Realization crashed over her.
Her breaths grew shallow, frantic, as though the truth itself was too much to bear. All this time, her voice wavered. It could have been different. I could have had you.
Juliet, Matthew’s voice was barely a whisper, as he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her as she shook. I’m so sorry. You were right all along. You’re everything to me.
I felt her sorrow, her regret, tearing her apart. She clung to him as though she could will him to rewrite everything that had gone wrong. We’ll be together now, always, Matthew murmured, his fingers tightening around my hair. Then slowly, he stepped back, his gaze shifting to the edge of the platform.
Something about how it lingered sent a chill through me. His eyes drifted back toward me, and he reached out, his voice soft but resolute. Thank you, Lydia. For helping Juliet.
Don’t worry. Everything will be all right now. His words echoed as everything began to fade. He seemed to be further and further away.
I reached out my hand, and then a wave of darkness pulled me under until all that was left was silence. Ten. The morning light streamed through the library’s stained glass windows, casting fractured colors across the worn wooden tables. I blinked, disoriented, my neck aching.
As I sat up, I realized I must have fallen asleep here somehow. My mind felt hazy, a blur of emotions and sensations, remnants of something intense and ungraspable. On the table beside me, my notebook lay open, pages filled with notes from last night. The Turn of the Screw.
The novel we’d been studying. And Professor Aldridge’s class stared back at me in my own handwriting. My scrawled notes asked whether the ghosts were real or just repressed manifestations of something terrible and hidden. A chill ran through me, though I couldn’t tell why.
I closed the notebook and pushed myself up, still feeling a strange pull of unease as I left the library. Outside, the day was clear, but something felt wrong. An odd quietness hanging over the campus. As I walked, the distant sound of sirens became louder.
As I neared the courtyard, my steps slowed. Police cars and an ambulance were gathered by the clock tower, their lights flashing. Officers milled around, their faces grim. Students were clustered around, whispering, their expressions filled with shock and astonishment.
Drawn by a growing sense of dread, I made my way toward the crowd. I caught sight of something dark staining the ground, pooled and glistening at the base of the clock tower. A pang of nausea hit me, and I swallowed hard, turning to look away. Only to be met by a campus security guard blocking my path.
Please back up, Miss, he said, his voice stern but tinged with something softer, troubled. The campus is closed today. Head back to your dorm, all right? What happened?
I asked, my voice more than a whisper. A part of me already knowing he wouldn’t answer. He just shook his head, looking away. Just go back, please.
I nodded numbly, turning to step back. But my gaze drifted upward. I followed the towering structure from the bottom to the top of the clock tower. The wind picked up, carrying the faintest echo of a voice close to my ear.
My heart skipped a beat as a sensation, light and familiar, wrapped around me. A pair of arms I couldn’t see. And Juliet’s voice, quiet yet unmistakable. Matthew and I are together now.
Thanks to you. Her words lingered, a whisper settling into my chest, heavy and bittersweet. My breath caught, and a swell of emotions rose within me, a knot of sorrow, relief, and something unnamable, something that ached. My vision blurred as I held back tears.
Hey, Lydia. A warm hand rested on my shoulder, and I turned to see Tom, his face kind and concerned. Are you okay? I nodded, forcing a smile.
But then Tom gave me a kind look, and suddenly I didn’t feel like hiding my emotions anymore. A single tear slid down my cheek, followed by another. Tom’s eyes softened, and he gave a small nod, as though he understood more than he let on. Come on, he said, offering a gentle smile.
Let’s get some coffee. We walked away from the clock tower, into the morning light. Its warmth spilling over us, filling the silence with a quiet sense of comfort. I hesitated only a moment before catching Tom’s hand in mine.
He gave it a gentle squeeze. And I was myself again.
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