The Tragedy of Eden's Gate

7 - An Uneasy Alliance

Clearing up after a ghost freak-out is not how I planned my evening to go, but I have no other choice. My mum will have a fit if she comes back and finds my room looking like a particularly disgruntled tornado has swept through the place.

The particularly disgruntled tornado in question is nowhere to be seen, and I manage to sweep up the broken glass, tidy my clothes, pick up the fallen dresser, even screw a new light bulb I find in the storage cupboard into place, and restore order to my room without even a hint of Sam.

I try calling his name, which makes me feel even more crazy when nothing but thick silence answers my calls. Well, for a moment. The house creaks and wails, the wind outside howls for attention, throwing leaves against the glass and bending trees to its will, but Sam's voice is strikingly absent.

I spend the night tossing and turning, my mind a maelstrom of chaos. When I fall asleep, I dream of hands on my shoulders, shoving me down. I dream of Sam's outburst going too far, crumbling walls, getting stuck in a pile of rubble, clawing my way out. I dream of my dad, pounding his fists on the door and demanding I let him in.

It's a restless, uneasy night, to say the least.

I startle awake to the sensation of ice on my cheek, and I find Sam knelt before me. Smudgy and forlorn but there, at the side of my bed. His unexpected presence makes me flinch, but at least this time I don't scramble, nor do I knock myself out. I take that as a win.

"Sorry," he says weakly, drawing his hand back. "I think you were having a bad dream."

The room glows with the rosy hue of sunrise, bringing with it the cold clarity of morning after a chaotic night. Fear clings to me like a second skin, and my heart clenches against invisible blows.

I glance towards the door, but it's closed and still and there aren't any shadows lurking beneath. With a shuddering sigh, I cover my face with my hands, feeling as though I haven't slept at all.

"I'm so, so sorry about last night," Sam rushes out, his echoing voice tinged with remorse. "I don't know what— there's no excuse for it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Please, don't shut me out."

"I'm not shutting you out, Sam," I assure him as a shudder slides down my spine. I can't tell if it's because the room is freezing, because Sam is freezing, or if it's merely a remnant of that dream. Maybe all three.

"I've never done that before, and it... it felt awful. I felt weak. Like... like I wasn't quite attached, you know?"

I'm not sure I do, but I nod vaguely as I try and wake up properly. "I think I'd get angry, too," I muse aloud, trying to make him feel better. "If I found out..."

I can't quite finish; the thought summons a cavernous hole in my chest. Dread and pity and frustration all mingling into a chaotic storm. If I'd been killed and everyone talked about it being an accident, and that I should have been more careful, I'd be furious. Way to blame the victim.

"Sam, do you know who did it?"

He's quiet and, when I part my hands to glance his way, he's looking down at the sheets, fogged brows furrowed, lips set in a thin, unhappy line. "No. I can't— I can't remember." His voice is bleak; a dismal arrow tip slicing straight into my chest.

"I'm going to help you figure it out," I say quite suddenly, surprising us both. "What happened. Maybe that's why you're stuck here, and if I can help, then I should. If anyone else says what happened to you was a tragic accident, I'll set them straight for you, alright?"

He stares at me; disbelief and brittle, cracking hope warring for precedence behind his eyes. "You will?"

I nod. "I promise."