Page 37 of Phobia

I hurried up the stairs and slammed the basement door shut, padlocking it again. Rinsing the knife off in the sink, I poured bleach down the drain, breathing hard, trying to inhale the fumes and get the stench of blood out of my nose. But how do you erase a memory? Memories? The smell of urine, the sound of screaming, pools of blood so thick it made the bottom of my shoes sticky.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to think about Jamie. Jamie, who was warm and kind and funny. Jamie, who made me laugh and who listened when I talked and gave the best hugs. Jamie, my best friend. The one I would do anything for, even if it meant I killed the fucking monster in the basement. I didn’t intend to, but if that fucker bled out down there, then so be it. The world would be better off.Jamiewould be better off and that’s all that mattered.

Chapter 3

At night, Tennebrose always had a different vibe. A darker vibe. During the day, the historic buildings and flagstone walkways lent the university an old-world air of sophistication. It was quaint. Charming. Picturesque.

But in the dark, you’d swear things watched you from the shadows and ghosts whispered your name as you passed by. The place was haunted—everyone said so. But everyone always said that about old buildings.

I would have told myself it was stupid and childish, except I’d seen way too many ghosts on campus to dismiss it as a bunch of urban legends. And the closer we got to Halloween, the more restless those ghosts got. Just like me.

One October day in my freshman year, I almost had a full-blown panic attack in the middle of my biology class. I was already on edge simply because it was October, but then a ghost actually touched me and I lost my shit.

When Dr. Corbin pulled me aside after the lecture, I thought he was going to tell me to go see a shrink—something I’d already been doing since I was thirteen, with zero progress to show for it. The therapists said the “ghosts” I saw were all in my head, products of my anxiety and the PTSD fromthatHalloween manifesting themselves. By the time I got to Tennebrose, I’d learned to keep my mouth shut about the things I saw. I didn’t tell anyone. Not my parents. Not even Larkin. I was already the nerdy gay kid who’d escaped a horrible death, I didn’t want to be seen as even more of a weirdo, especially when Tennebrose was supposed to be my chance to start over.

Instead of patting me on the head or sending me to one of the university psychiatrists, Dr. Corbin rocked my world for the second time in my life.

“You’re a medium, Jamie,” Dr. Corbin said patiently as I paced back and forth in his office, shaking from head to toe, the feeling of the ghost’s icy grip still circling my bicep. “You can interact with the spirit realm.”

“This is bullshit,” I said, shaking my head. “Some kind of prank you guys like to play on freshmen? Huh? Trying to get us in the Halloween spirit? I get Winslow is obsessed with witches and shit but I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Why do you think you’re here?” He tilted his head to the side, watching me with the calm assuredness I imagined all world-class surgeons possessed. “You got a full ride to an obscure university you didn’t apply to because we wanted you here. Tennebrose isn’t just about training you for employment after you graduate. It’s about giving you the skills you need to thrive in life and sometimes those skills involve things society doesn’t tell you about, such as spirits.”

My head was spinning faster than my spastic heartbeat. “Wh-what do you mean you wanted me here? How did you know? Were you following me? Because I haven’t told anyone! Ok? No one! Did you get my files from my therapists? God, this is fucking crazy.”

He smiled gently. “Some of my colleagues in admissions have the ability to find prospective students like you. If we decide you have a gift worth exploring, we recruit you. It’s as simple as that. And then once you’re here, we wait to see if you even need our help before we try to reach out, to let you know you’re not alone.”

“Why? Why would you even care?”

“We find it’s better to help students with their particular talents than let you wander through life, causing mayhem for the rest of us.”

I flopped into the chair in front of him, sapped from the adrenaline crash and the strain of trying to process everything he was saying andnotsaying. “Rest of us? How many people are out there, like me?”

He considered it for a moment before shrugging. “It’s hard to say really. There are those born with it and then there are those who develop it somehow, as you did that Halloween night.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You know about that too?”

Dr. Corbin nodded solemnly.

“Can you see them? The ghosts?”

He nodded again. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure the classroom is warded properly before the next lecture so we don’t have any more interruptions. Normally the facilities crew takes care of that sort of thing, but this particular spirit must have found an opening somewhere.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see one? I try to ignore them, but some of them follow me. At first, it freaks me out, but then it gets annoying.”

“The easiest thing is to tell them ‘mortem obire.’ It translates to ‘face death,’ but we interpret it as a command to leave this life. It gives them permission to pass on.”

“What if they don’t go?”

“Then you tell me and I won’t be as nice in my request,” he said with a chuckle.

Although I walked out of Dr. Corbin’s office feeling a hell of a lot better about my so-called “gift,” I still didn’t tell anyone. Not even Larkin. It’s not that he wouldn’t have understood or been supportive, but he already blamed himself for what happened when we were kids; I didn’t want him heaping more guilt onto his broad shoulders. Ghosts were annoying and creepy, but armed with Dr. Corbin’s words, I felt more in control than I had with years of meds and talk therapy.

Four years later, I’d used that Latin command countless times around Winslow. At the pharmacy. At the coffee shop. Definitely on campus. And it worked like a charm. One minute a silvery specter was floating nearby, staring at me like a dog begging for scraps, and the next they were gone, dissipating like mist.

So when I felt eyes on me as I headed toward my apartment after my nightly chem lab, I wasn’t particularly alarmed.

Still, I slowed my steps and glanced around. The sidewalk around me was deserted. Closer to Dane Hall, the science building, I could see students milling about, but none of them were close enough to cause the odd sensation.