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From my home

From my heart

Negativity leave us be

With this chant, we set you free.”

“You have to say it like you mean it,” Stasi insists, squeezing my hand tighter. Clearing my throat, I do as I’m told, desperate for this to be over as the air above me feels increasingly heavy.

Whispers crawl over my shoulders, trailing up and down my neck like ants.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

Needy. Needy. Needy.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

I grit my teeth, pushing down the urge to scream out as the high-pitched recitation of some of my greatest insecurities pelt against me relentlessly.

“Ignore whatever it’s telling you. It’s pushing back, but that’s a good sign. It’s threatened.” She squeezes my hand, insistent on gaining back my attention. “Banishing requires determination. Stay focused.”

Trusting her, I keep chanting, and each time we reach the end again, we start over, and over.

The voice that circles me is just as persistent.

My arms shake and my voice wobbles, but I refuse to break, I won’t fail at this. I can’t let her down.I can’t let myself down.I’m tired of letting others have so much influence over my emotions. Holding onto her and planting my feet, I say the words again. Weary and raw, my throat protests, but I follow Stasi’s lead, continuing the chant. I’m on the verge of crying out with exhaustion when there’s a ripple in the atmosphere around us and the whispers dissipate. Between deep breaths, I find the courage to finally crack my eye open. Relief unknots my tight muscles.

“Stasi.” She continues chanting. “Stasi, it’s gone.” I try to tug my hands out of her hold, but she keeps a firm grip as she opens her eyes and assesses the room for herself. After completing the chant a final time, she releases me.

Her shoulders are slumped, and her lids hang low over her eyes.

“Are you okay?” It’s a struggle to tame the concern that’s sprung to life inside me.

“I’m fine. Banishing can be draining, especially with how much energy it has amassed. It was much stronger than the last time I saw it.” She runs a hand through her hair. “I’ll be fine. Honestly, I’m just relieved it worked. I’ve been very disconnected from all my practices since I’ve died.”

I keep the interrogation barred behind my teeth. Our last conversation sits awkwardly between us, taking the idea off the table.In fact, she knocks it over the edge like a cat with a glass.

“Well, as fun as that was, I’m still not interested in doing this.” She walks over to the door, holding it open.

“Thank—” The door closing in my face cuts me off. The rejection singes hot on my skin.So that’s how it’s going to be? Fine by me.I don’t need her. I never did.

Chapter 28

Becca

48 Days Dead

Every time I close my eyes, it’s her I see—hair tousled, sheet pooled around her waist. The silver of the moon reflecting off her platinum hair. I’m sick to my stomach with the way I crave her—her touch, her kiss, her body. That rabid need overpowers all rational thought.

I knowthat I shouldn’t want her to touch me between my legs or harshly tug at my nipples.

I knowthat I shouldn’t want to slip my tongue inside her and pluck needy moans from that filthy mouth of hers.

I knowthat I shouldn’t want to ask her to hold me and listen while I let her see all the scars life has left on me.

But I Can’t. Stop. Thinking. About. Her. It’s what drives my hips forward over and over as I hold this pillow between my legs hoping that at any moment, I’ll actually be able to get anything resembling friction. The more I try, the more frustrated I get. There’s nothing in this world that makes me feel.Nothing but her.

“Stasi.” The name slips from my lips as I pinch my nipple, trying to replicate that savory pain that she’s so good at eliciting. “Oh, yes, right there. Stasi—“