Ghosts of Halloween: A Dark Why Choose Romance

The door won’t budge. I turn away and look around frantically, trying to figure out my other options. Because fuck me if I stay another minute in this house.

Do I want to know who they are? Sure. But I want to run even more than that, and I should be glad they gave me this opening.

I cross the room to the window and try it. It’s locked, sealed shut just like the door. I stomp in frustration and then sweep my eyes over the floor, looking for something I could break the glass with. After I opened the dusty curtains covering the window, there’s enough light to see in the gloom.

There. I run a few steps and pick up a heavy frying pan. I have no idea what it’s doing on the floor, but I won’t complain. It’s perfect.

I cross back to the window and heft the weapon in my left hand. The handle is long, so I should be able to break the glass without getting hurt.

All right. I look over my shoulder one last time, unnerved by the silence, but no one’s here. Maybe they are hiding from me or biding their time. I don’t care.

I’m out of here.

Panting hard, I widen my stance and prepare. Just when I swing my arm back, ready to hit the window, someone yanks the frying pan out of my hand so hard, my shoulder explodes with pain. I cry out and whip back, trying to see who it was.

But… There is no one here.

The room is silent apart from my frantic breathing. It’s dark and messy with no furniture, just trash strewn on the floor, and there is no way someone could have reached me and then hidden without me noticing. I would have heard steps. I would have seen something.

My hand is clammy as I slowly turn in a circle, heart pounding. Nothing. Silence. But I know what I felt, and the dull throbbing in my shoulder confirms it.

A ridiculous thought hits me, and I hiccup, slowly backing up toward the wall.

After all… it’s Halloween. And I am inside the haunted house. Anything’s possible, right?

I take a deep breath, images from all the horror films I saw over the years pouring into my head. I’m not crazy, I felt it. Which means… Whoever pulled that pan out of my hand is either invisible… or above me.

My heart in my throat, I slowly look up at the ceiling, not even knowing what I expect to see, but fearing it all the same.

I shudder with relief when there’s nothing, only cobwebs and a broken lamp hanging precariously on its cable. As I look up, waves of relief coursing through me, something cold and wet presses to my knee and slides up my thigh.

I shriek and jump away, looking around at the floor, but again, I can’t see anything.

What is going on?!

I need a weapon. I try to spot where my frying pan went, but it’s nowhere to be seen, and the best I can do is an empty beer bottle. I pick it up, eyes glancing nervously around, trying to see everything around me at once.

I want to stand with my back to the wall, but what if whatever is here corners me? I look left and right, eyes searching for movement, ears trying to hear past my terrified breathing.

Silence. Nothing moves.

Eerie, distorted laughter drifts in from another room. I look in that direction, whimpering from fear. The sound’s getting closer.

I don’t wait for whatever it is to reach me. I turn around and run in the opposite direction, flying through the dark house. Something brushes over my cheek, probably a cobweb, but I’m so crazy with fear, I cry out, sobbing.

I should have never come here.

As soon as I go through a door, it slams shut behind me, and I shriek, tearing ahead in frantic terror. Stairs! I take them, going up two steps at a time, my mind drawn to the memory of light from the room upstairs. Light means safety.

The stairs thud and creak under my feet, and before I even reach the landing, my heart sinks. I can’t see the candle glow. The door to that room is open, and it’s dark inside, the faintest smell of a blown-out candle in the air.

I whimper and pivot, thinking I should get back downstairs. I will have a better chance to escape there. The windows are too high up on the second floor.

But a horrible crash comes from below, followed by two unhinged voices laughing, and I turn around, trying to find a way out up here.

And stop.

Someone is in front of me. A tall, dark shadow, blocking my way. I take a step back, breath hitching, and my foot lands on nothing.

I was standing on top of the stairs, and now I fall back. Everything slows as I take in the ceiling and walls rushing past me, as my mouth opens in a silent scream, as my hands fumble, trying to catch on to something, to arrest my fall…

There’s a flurry of movement, air whipping around me, and suddenly, I’m in someone’s arms. I hear a grunt, and Groomer’s scent envelops me. I’m pressed to his chest, warm, strong body surrounding me, and I sob with relief.

I’ll take him over the nameless terrors. Over everything.

But he doesn’t hold on. Doesn’t say anything. He just puts me down by the wall opposite the staircase and disappears while I’m busy catching my balance.

He was here and now he’s not. I don’t understand how it’s possible.

I’m dizzy, my head swimming, and I’m not sure what’s real anymore. My body and mind are playing tricks on me. I need to ground myself, so I focus on the pain. The itching in my missing hand, the soreness in my muscles, the throbbing in my pussy—that’s all real.

And that means, everything else is, too.

I slowly raise my head, sensing rather than hearing that something’s in front of me.

The same shadow from before, a tall, dark silhouette of a man, hangs over the stairs. I blink, double-checking to see that his feet are not on the steps.

They aren’t. They hover in the air.

My voice is paralyzed in my throat, and I can’t utter a sound. I can’t move, frozen to the floor, my body in shock. And then, a narrow beam of white light falls on the man’s feet, confirming what I knew.

They aren’t touching the floor.

The beam travels up, revealing jeans… Groomer’s jeans. His belt. His lean, athletic body. The metal bracelet on his wrist. The tattoos on his arms…

When it’s about to reveal his face, the beam of light stops, focusing on his chest, and I swallow, suddenly knowing without a shadow of a doubt what I’ll see. It somehow seems I knew all along. A part of me knew who he was… but it’s impossible.

Impossible, ridiculous, and why am I suddenly bursting with hope and choking on tears?

“Trick or treat, princess?” he asks, voice low and threatening, and I whimper, unable to form words.

A beat passes. I stand, frozen to the spot, my breath so shallow it’s as if I’m not breathing at all. Waiting to see the impossible.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

The beam of light slowly slides up and up and up, revealing his face.

And it’s Jack. Jack, with green eyes full of mischief, dark brows and sharp cheekbones. Jack, who whispered filthy things in my ear all those years ago. Jack, who wanted to date me and threatened to kill my boyfriend if I didn’t break up with him.

Jack, who said he loved me.

It can’t be him, but it is.

We stare at each other, his eyes taunting, mouth curved in a cruel smile, and the world tilts around me, my head woozy. I lean against the wall, not daring to take my eyes off him, until my throat loosens enough to let me speak.

“But… you’re dead!” I choke out, staring at him with wide eyes.

He rises slowly higher until his feet are level with my head, and I can’t help but follow him with my eyes. Jack grins, slowly gliding closer.

“Yes. And?”