THE SPIRIT THAT STILL LINGERS HERE

CHAPTER 003

Chapter 003

Clara's Point of View

The flat seems to be a ghost of what used to be colder, void. Despite Jonas's long absence, his subtle aroma lingers in the air. Sitting in the kitchen, I fixed my gaze on the half-filled wine bottle before me. It's the only thing that keeps me from feeling numb. I pour myself yet another drink. I proceeded to pour myself yet another drink. I have no interest at all now. Perhaps this time it will go—perhaps it will numb something inside of me. Though the ache still exists, I am already three glasses deep. It never vanishes.

The hush is stifling. It envelops me like a tight and merciless heavy blanket. There used to be serenity here. These days, it's simply lonely. Especially lonely. The kind of loneliness that lies in your chest and suffocates you even surrounded by your own ideas.

I try to concentrate and do everything possible to help me forget all of this. Pulling open the drawer by the door, I strolled over and start rummaging through the contents. Despite my unsteady hands, I remain unfazed. Then I caught sight of something. It's a ring box. Vintage. Dust-covered. Years ago, I did not see it. I stopped to fix it; I felt my breath catch in my throat. I did not expect to find this today. Hell, I hardly knew it was still here.

I pause momentarily, my fingertips stroking the velvety box before I open it. It is not from Jonas; it never was. But inside, I discover something else. Letters. I never mailed one. I completely overlooked the act of writing.

I blink while my hands quiver as I unfold the page. It dates back years ago, when things seemed like they might go. That was a time when I believed we might have some time to spare. The letter addresses IVF, nursery wallpaper selection, dreams I had with Jonas. Desired items. Things that would have made this place feel like a home instead of a shell.

I closed my eyes and let the weight of it all fall across me. What happened to every one of those aspirations? Why would they have slipped away so readily?

I nod, attempting to ignore such ideas. No, now is not the time for such thoughts. I have to get started. Anything will help make this place feel like mine again.

I got to work cleaning. I straighten the kitchen counter and gather loose papers. Though not much, it is something. Control is the intended outcome. Though I have trembling hands, I keep moving. I have to keep on moving.

Still, I hear it later on. an impact.

Like a knife cutting into the silence of the flat, the sound pierced through. I turned just in time to see the wine glass slide off the counter and break on the floor. I neglected to touch it. Nor did I even move. I witnessed it fall just now. My breath catches in my throat. The room gets cooler right away, and the air smells something I cannot name.

The lights wavered. Once, twice. For a split second, everything was dark. With my pulse booming in my ears, I stood still in the middle of the room. I glimpse something in the mirror when the lights turn back on. And shadows.

She is it.

I have no idea what her name is. Why she is there eludes me. Still, I could see her. Lady. Pale Observations. Her face appears empty, akin to a void, yet her eyes seem genuine. Her eyes seem to be genuine. Her eyes are filled with an incomprehensible amount of information.

My breath accelerates as my heart pounds in my chest. Hoping she would vanish, I blinked, but she did not. She stays there, backtracking toward me. Her stare seems to be dragging me into something I don't want to know—chilly and heavy, like it's seeping into me.

I closed my eyes tightly. I am unable to handle this. Reality is not what it seems. It cannot be factual. It must be wine; the tiredness is secondary. The sadness.

I reopen them.

The woman is no longer here.

However, the mirror exhibits fractures. It feels as though someone is striking it from the inside, creating a clean break. My heart thumping, I got closer. What would you do next? How did the procedure go? I reached out and touched the frigid mirror's surface, shaking hands. Under my fingers, it's silky; yet, something about it seems incorrect.

I back off, my head whirling. The silence calls once more, but it seems different this time. It is darker, more repressive, More repressive. It feels as though someone is watching me intently from the shadows. Something ready.

The flat feels as though it is experiencing a chill, as if the walls are exhaling. I shudder, instinctively trying to keep myself together by encircling my arms. My eyes flew over the room looking for anything out of line. I sense something is wrong. The weight of the air, the slight tingling at the rear of my neck, was overwhelming.

I had to leave from here. I am unable to stay here. This situation is unacceptable to me.

But where am I going? I know what I need to do.

Once more, the woman's face flashes in my head; her eyes are sharp, her stare heavy, as though she is still there, still observing. She is not only a fantasy of mine. She’s real. And she’s in my home.

I can’t breathe. My chest feels like it’s constricting, like something inside me is breaking open. I am not sure how to think clearly. Nothing seems authentic nowadays.

My legs quivering, my breath shallow, I stumbled toward the door. I had to leave. I must once more feel safe.

But I hear it as I go past the corridor. It sounds like a gentle murmur. Similar to someone calling my name.

She...

I freeze. The sound is hushed, hence... near. My blood feels chilly.

Who is that? Who is here?

I turned around, examining the hallway. None here. The unit is vacant right now. I can't get rid of the sense that I'm not alone.

My head whirlpool of uncertainty and anxiety, I backed off toward the kitchen. I stare fixedly at the damaged mirror. What is happening? Could you help me understand why everything appears to be out of place?

I can hear it once more.

Claudia...

I turn once more. Yet nothing. None specifically.

Anyone else live in the apartment?

My pulse leaps, the beating in my chest drowning out any other sound. The shadows in the corners seem to move, reaching as though they were living. The walls seem to be encircling me.

What is there?

Why is the flat looking different?

The floor under me feels like it's shifting. This shift is not confined to my physical form. But in a way, my body seems to be being tugged in every direction. Though the air is thick in my throat, I wish I could yell.

I need to leave. I had to get away from here.

But the door stays closed.

My hand searches for the knob, but it does not turn. My breathing freezes. I twist it once more, harder, but it stays still. My ideas are strewn, and my head is whirling. I continue to pull, my nails piercing the metal, yet it remains trapped.

Not one. Not exactly, not exactly, not exactly!

I whirl about, frantically looking for still another escape. But I see nothing whatsoever. These days, the apartment is different. The shadows have deeper depth. The air feels weightier. Something seems off.

Once more, the whisper is audible. This time, the whisper is audible.

Maria...

My eyes flew to the mirror. Still fractured, the spider-webbing lines across the glass resemble a broken promise. But I swear right now I see something else. I am not reflecting in a mirror.

The face of a lady is visible.

She is staring right at me. They are not now merely empty. They are angry.

From me: What are your expectations?

When I open my mouth, I hear nothing. My throat feels choked and stifled.

I'm unable to breathe. I am unable to think.

The lights flutter once again. Everything closes darkly.

And I heard her as well. She was right behind me.

Claudia...

I then shriek.