"Oh, baby."
The headache worsened for a moment as her heartbeat picked up. Chills ran through her body. She shook her head.
"Brandon," Gretchen whispered.
She raised her gaze and took a step back as her dead-would-have-been-lover walked out of the shadows. He was no longer the bloated dead creature who had haunted her a night prior. He looked like his normal handsome tall self, not as tall as Michael though. His curly dark-brown hair fell dangerously close to those piercing brown eyes, giving him the bad boy look she found attractive.
He gave her his best charming smile. The one that had made her swoon and nearly break her commitment to see her vision true so many times. Oh, things would have been so much different had he accepted her scars. He wasn't wearing the clothes he'd died in. Instead, he was in jeans and a t-shirt that he had worn earlier that same day.
He looked normal, healthy, and handsome. If she didn't know that he was already dead, she would have assumed he was alive. But, instead of her heart thumping with happiness and joy. Instead of feeling love, she was afraid. He reached for her, but she took another step back.
"No," she said softly, shaking her head. Her efforts brought a little bit of pain, but she ignored it. "Go away, please."
"Come on, Gretch," he said with a click of his tongue. "I'm sorry I scared you the other night. I was too harsh, too angry. You have to understand how all this affects me. How would you feel if you found your love in the arms of another, not even a day after you were murdered? In the arms of the man who murdered you?"
"Affects you? Not even a day? I wasn't willing then," she said.
He laughed and rolled his eyes. "Weren't willing? He barely touched you and you started creaming on his fingers. I heard you begging for his cock. Now you're thinking about playing house with him? Can you blame a guy for getting angry?"
Her back hit the wall as he advanced on her. She pressed her palms to her head as her headache seemed to get worse.
"You're dead," she whispered. "Please, move on." He stopped in front of her.
"Oh, baby," he said softly. "He's corrupted you. You've always been so pure. Saving yourself for your right moment and then he took that away from you. Don't you see? He's the bad guy here. You wanted me, not him."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move up as if he were trying to brush her cheek.
"Brandon," she whispered. "I'm dealing with enough right now." Her headache settled into a consistent pain but was more manageable. She didn't want to deal with that and him. Were they connected? In a way, but not completely. She had a feeling that he made things worse.
Brandon's face changed ever so slightly into annoyance. "Dealing with enough?" he asked. "I'm sorry, love. Is my ghost an inconvenience for you? Because my death was an inconvenience for me."
She forced herself to look up at him.
"I didn't want you to die, Brandon," she said firmly. "But you did. And I'm alive. I'm sure that's hard for you, but-" She paused. "We didn't really know each other. I forced our connection. But neither you nor I really tried to get to know each other. I'm sorry."
"Forced our connection?" he asked. "Oh, love." He shook his head. "I know more about you than you realize. We were meant to be. You felt it. I felt it. You came here for me."
Or, fate used you so that I could meet Michael.
His face twisted into a rage. He slammed his hand on the wall next to her. "Don't even think about it, Gretchen!" he snarled. "Always mine. Never his."
Her headache sharpened, making her cringe and close her eyes. "Stop. Leave me alone. Go away!" Her voice grew louder, sharper, and more demanding with each word.
For the briefest of moments, her headache dulled into a light throb, and his image distorted. He looked at his hand in surprise and alarm then back at her.
Her legs collapsed from under her, forcing her to drop to the ground. He crouched.
"Babe," he said softly, there was concern in his voice. "Emotions are hard to control in this state. I'm here to help you. Help you move on."
"I'm not dead. I don't have to move on," she stated, looking up at him. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here."
He gave her a sad smile and let out a sigh as if he were breathing. She jerked back as he tried to touch her face. "You think I'm your enemy, but I'm not. I understand you're confused. He's always been good at that. He keeps trying to take you away from me. I won't let him corrupt you. I'll be here to help you." He paused then leaned in, dropping his voice to almost a whisper. "We are soulmates after all."
The word momentarily paralyzed her. "I-" she paused, slowly looking up at him. "I never said that to you," she said. She couldn't trust him with the fact she saw the future. She sure as hell didn't trust him enough to call him her soulmate.
It wasn't true anyway.
He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to hers. Pressing against the wall, she pushed herself up. Managing to scramble onto her feet, she rushed out of her room.
"Michael!" she cried out. She had to get out of the house. She had to get away. Outside!
She only managed to take two quick steps down the stairs before she stumbled and half slid down the rest. The muscles in her right arm strained and pulled as she used it to grab the railing to stop herself from completely falling down. It only helped a little. She still lost her footing the moment she hit the ground floor and slammed her knees onto the hardwood. The pain shot through her whole body. Get up! Move! She scrambled to get back on her feet, but they slipped on the ground, making her fall again.
She moaned in pain and looked down to see what had made her slip. "What?" she cried out in surprise, scooting back. The floor was stained with fresh blood. Her eyes followed the blood. It was smeared on the wall, and she could make out a handprint. Hers? But the majority of the blood led towards the basement.
Movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eyes. Brandon was slowly walking down the stairs, chuckling.
"You can't escape me, love."
She had to get out of the house, away from him. Fresh air! Clear your mind! The pain in her head worsened, making her bend over for a moment.
Brandon's feet landed on the ground floor. She couldn't speak, she couldn't scream. It was difficult enough to see and move. Somewhere, deep down, she found the energy she needed. Scrambling to her feet again, she slipped and stumbled but ran to the front door. She had to get out of the house, somewhere safe.
"Open!" It was stupid. Demanding that a door open for her, but it swung open. She didn't stop, didn't think. She barely registered the little porch stairs, practically skipping them. Hitting the cold ground with her bare feet, she took off. The forest was getting close, she could make it through and-
Glancing to her left, she spotted a familiar face, making her stop in her tracks.
"Nathan?" she asked.
The painful twist of her arm, caused the image of her cousin to fade away. To her relief, the headache mercifully lessened. Her calm only lasted a moment though till she looked up at Michael. He was wearing his mask, his eyes blazed with a fury down at her. His grip tightened painfully on her arm.
"Michael, wait," she cried out, struggling to get away from him.
He didn't wait. Turning away from her, he dragged her back towards the house.
"Stop! Please," she begged, pulling back, but it was no use. She wasn't as strong as he was. I can't hurt him. She tripped and fell. Michael started to drag her, but then picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder.
"Michael. Don't take me back there!" she begged. One hand dug into his back while she reached the other one out as if that would help her escape.
He walked back in and kept moving. Her body hurt and it was difficult to breathe as she sobbed. What was he going to do? She couldn't even imagine what his plans were. Then again thinking was hard. Reaching the stairs, he switched directions.
"No!"
His destination was clear. He was taking her to the basement. His grip tightened as she started to fight him.
"Michael, let me!" she wanted to explain, but her brain couldn't form the right sentences. She was confused, she was frightened, and she was in pain.
The basement was large, cold, and dark. For a brief moment, she saw a pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs. She'd seen that before. The time she asked him about the basement and he opened the door for her. Michael headed to the only room. He opened the door and without much effort, tossed her inside.
She hit the ground with a loud slap.
"Michael, wait!" she begged, scrambling to her feet. But he was fast, slamming the door behind him. She heard the distinct click of the lock.
"No! Michael. Please!" she shrieked, banging on the door. "Michael! Let me explain!" The sound of the basement door slamming made her cry out and lean her head against the door.
Tears flowed down her eyes as she sobbed. The headache returned, stronger than before. Her whole body felt hot, while her brain felt as if pins and needles were jabbing at it.
"Michael," she whimpered, clawing at the door. Her energy was nearly depleted. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. She should have told Michael. Should have told him that she was being haunted by the man he killed.
A hand brushed her cheek and she whirled away. Brandon just smiled, leaning against the wall near her. "And this, baby," he said. His eyes sparkled with glee. "Is where he always fucks up. He always leaves you when you need him most. And I'm always here to help."
"Please, stop," she whimpered.
"I'm not doing anything," he said, holding his hands up in the air. He took a step back.
She glared up at him, making him chuckle and shrug his shoulders.
"Okay, maybe I'm not helping the situation," he said. "But this is mainly all you, babe. Unfortunately, you don't have what it takes. You never do. Your brain can't handle it."
As if to prove his point, her headache intensified. She moaned, dropping to her knees. The cool concrete ground felt good against her hot skin. "What is happening?"
She felt him move closer to her. "Fate," he said. "Like I said, you were meant to die that day."
She shook her head. "No," she said, the headache lessened to a dull throb, much to her relief. It kept coming and going. A battle within herself. "I don't think I was." She raised her gaze to glare at him.
"Don't look at me like that, baby," he said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "I'm the one who loves you. Not him. Do you really think a killer could ever love you? Ever care? You're deluding yourself, Gretchen. It's just about sex with him. He'll never be the partner you need. The one who will hold you when you're in pain. The one who will take care of you. I mean, look at where you're at. All he's interested is in your cunt." He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Idiot has no idea," he mused to himself.
Gretchen crawled away from him, away from the door. Her body tingled and zapped. Wiping her eyes and nose, she gritted her teeth. Annoyed with herself for crying in front of him. "Why are you tormenting me?"
"Oh, babe," he said soothingly. "I'm trying to help you. I've been trying to help you. I'm here to take care of you. I've loved you from the moment we met. Hell, I was patient with you. Faithful, unlike you."
"You died," she said firmly, shaking her head. She hit the cold wall and pressed against it.
Brandon chuckled as he moved closer to her. "Do you know how hard it was to wait to fuck you? How many girls threw themselves at my feet? How many times I had to say no because you were my one? And that was even after I found out you couldn't get pregnant."
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "I never told you," she whispered.
"What do you think he'll do when he finds out?" Brandon asked as he looked up at the ceiling. "When he finds out that he can't get you pregnant. Think he'll keep you?"
Her jaw trembled.
"If you think he doesn't want children you're a fool. We all want children. Spawn to continue our line when we're gone. Fuck, Gretchen. I still wanted to be with you, marry you, despite knowing that we could never have children together."
She looked away, his words stung. She had broached the subject the night before with Michael. She needed to know. Needed to know if he was intent on getting her pregnant. The panic in his eyes when she asked put her somewhat at ease. But, did Michael want kids? She rubbed one hand along her scars. She kept bringing up the fact she was in the hospital for a long time, made sure to mention multiple surgeries. Just in case. A part of her hoping that he'd get a clue. Figure out why she didn't fight him when he came in her. Although, she never told Brandon any of that. Not once.
She shook her head, not wanting to hear Brandon anymore. There was a lot to process. Too much to process. It explained why he looked at them the way he did. But, how the fuck did he know? "Leave me alone," she said. How the fuck did he know so much about her? His ghost was making it seem like he'd known all along. That wasn't possible. Their meeting online was just a coincidence. She didn't even know he was the one in her vision until a couple of months after they started developing their relationship online.
Brandon ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you really want to die alone, Gretch?" he asked. "Because your killer isn't coming back on time. You're too weak now, love. Can't you feel it? You are dying."
She didn't answer, pressing her body against the wall for a moment, letting the coldness soak into her skin. Did she? Was she? Her whole body felt as if it were on fire. But, she wasn't sure she was dying. "Why do you keep saying that?"
She could feel his gaze on her. "Because it's getting worse, Gretchen. Aren't your visions already colliding? Aren't you feeling like your head is about to explode?" He crouched nearby, extending his hand to her. "It's okay to give up. It's okay to let go, love. I'm here to guide you."
Was she? She was in pain. But it kept coming and going, flowing through her in little waves. It felt as if her body was trying to figure things out. But head exploding pain? Not really. Only when he got too close to her. She slowly raised her eyes, breathing deeply. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Not this time."
"Not this time?" he asked. "Baby, you-" The knowing smile left his face as he looked at her. His eyes moved rapidly as if searching her body for an answer. "Huh." He stood up.
To her relief, the cool wall helped regulate the heat that coursed through her body. Movement caught her attention.
"Michael. Michael!" she cried out as she scrambled to her feet. He was still wearing his mask. "I know you're mad but-" She went through his body and his image disappeared.
"Told you," Brandon said softly.
Her shoulders slumped and her eyes looked down at the floor. A future event? But how far away? Red caught her attention. She let out a loud gasp and looked around.
"What do you see?" Brandon asked.
"Blood," she whispered. "So much blood." When she looked up, she immediately dropped to the ground. Brandon was standing too close to her for comfort. Her body jolted with pain from her fall.
"Is that how you want to die?" he asked, holding out his hand. "Michael slowly and painfully killing you? All you have to do is take my hand and it'll be over. Quick, easy, painless."
Painless. She looked around the room. It kept shifting in little ways. Sometimes she'd see the blood. Two figures moved statically. One tall, a man, and the other smaller. Her. It looked like they were fighting.
Shut up. Shut up. The words softly echoed in her mind. She shook her head to clear it. It didn't stop though. More whispers, more voices, Michael appeared again, same movements as he walked to the middle of the room before disappearing. Her senses were starting to overwhelm her as various emotions battled within her, working together with the pain.
She looked up at Brandon who still had his hand held out to her. She was alone. She was scared. The pain wasn't stopping, despite being manageable. Was he right? Was Michael going to come back and finally end her? Her heart twisted at the thought. Betrayal. Why did she feel as if him killing her would betray her? He was a killer after all. Didn't she expect him to kill her eventually? Once he was done with her?
No.
But, he was angry. What if she broke that spell between them? Did she want a slow death?
Her arms tensed and she slowly raised one. His face lightened. He'd won.
"Michael." The memory of her own lust-filled voice, of her body being pinned against a wall as Michael fucked her came to mind. The first vision she got in the house. The one she didn't want to happen then, but had been looking forward to it now. It hadn't happened yet.
Brandon's face twitched slightly as she lowered her hand. "Love?" he asked.
She was alone, for now. But, he would come back. She'd be able to explain everything to him, make him understand so that he wouldn't try and kill her. The other night, when Brandon had haunted her, Michael had calmed her down. He didn't have to. He could have just let her lay there terrified. He could have just left the bed. But he placed his hand on her chest to calm her. He put himself between her and in his point of view nothing. He didn't leave till he was sure she was more relaxed. And he'd stayed when she asked him to. He stayed the whole day, bored out of his mind undoubtedly, but he stayed. He had hurt her, but other than the first attack, the other things he did, they felt different.
Her mind recalled the feeling of his hands on her. His lips against her skin. The way he made sure to pay attention to her scars. The one thing he could have made her feel shitty about. He had no obligation to make her feel good. Her heart fluttered. The way he touched them last night when she sat up. So casual. Almost like a soft reminder that he liked them.
"You hated my scars," she stated.
He leaned back. "Don't you?" he asked. "Don't you hate the memory of them?"
She shook her head. "No. I accepted them. They stopped bothering me a while ago. He likes them. He doesn't shy away."
Brandon's face darkened. "So you fuck a killer? Would rather be with a killer because he likes your scars?"
She glared at him. "He likes my body the way it is."
"Of course, he does. He probably sees your body as damaged. Easy to make a few scars of his own to join those already marking your skin. Hasn't he done that already? Bet he'd get off on the memory of how you got them." Brandon rubbed the back of his neck for a moment, letting out a frustrated sound. "Baby-"
"Stop calling me that," she interrupted, feeling stronger with every word. "I'm not your baby. You're dead. And even if you weren't, we're done. I don't know what I ever fucking saw in you. Go away!"
He didn't move, his eyes held an anger in them before he blinked it away. He switched his countenance again, looking sadder. He crouched to be more on her level. "I hated them for you." His mouth quirked into a small smile. "Babe," he added.
She glared at him as she stood up. She was done being scared of him. He was wrong. Why did she ever think things were right with them? It really wasn't him we were after.
"Fuck off, Brandon," she snapped. "It's bullshit that you hated them for me. You never asked me how I felt. Your reaction was immediate. I remember. The way you made me feel. The constant hints on trying to get them covered up so you wouldn't have to see them. You hated touching them. You didn't want anyone to see. Michael is a lot of things, yes bad things. But he never once made me feel like shit about them."
He clicked his tongue. "I hated them because you didn't deserve to go through what you did." A small knowing smile crossed his lips. "After all, what kind of parents would do that to their child?"
"Wha-"
His image flickered for a moment before he was right in front of her. "I don't want to hurt you, babe," he said.
Pain shot through her body again at his words, causing her to drop to her knees. She gasped for breath and tried to calm her beating heart. She felt his hand press against her back.
"I really am sorry, babe," he whispered. "I tried to go about this the nice way. But you're my soulmate, not his. Can't have him taking you away from me again."
The pain was worse than the other day. Her blood felt as if it were lava, her head felt as if needles were being jabbed in. The scars along her body burned as she felt as if her body was recalling each instant of pain they'd inflicted when she got them. She felt as if she were on fire. She pressed her hands on her head and shrieked. She could feel the tears running down her eyes. Whatever was happening to her, Brandon was somehow amplifying it. And she had no idea how to stop him. Images of past, present, and future seemed to clash together into one giant mess in her brain. All sorts of voices talked, screamed, and whispered around her.
Her brain was breaking.