The Fade

by Demitria Lunetta

  “Yeah. Shannon, I’m so sorry.”

  Tears are streaming down her cheeks, and my father lets out a moan. “He’s not dead! Jim, help!”

  But still he won’t let her go to him. He can’t let my dad live.

  “Let go of me,” Shannon says, backing away. She looks again at Coop. “How could he have killed those girls? He would have been a little kid then.”

  “All sociopaths were once little kids,” Jim tells her.

  “Please, Shannon,” I whisper. “Please just see.”

  And she does, finally. “It was you, wasn’t it?” she asks, sobbing.

  Jim takes a deep breath and drops his head. “I really didn’t want you to know,” he tells her. He reaches out a long arm and grabs her. He pulls her close to the wall, shoving her next to the shriveled corpse. Kaitlyn’s yellowed grin is inches from her face. “You’re special. You never rejected me, like they did.”

  She pulls back from the dead body. Tears stream down her face. “That’s your sister, Kaitlyn? You really killed your sister?” Shannon’s voice is so small. She doesn’t fight back or try to escape. I think the revelation has broken something inside her. I feel Coop’s hand securely grasp mine.

  “I didn’t want to….It just happened,” he says. He lets out a loud, hysterical laugh. “I loved her so much.”

  “Then why kill her?” Shannon asks.

  He shivers. “Can you imagine when the girl you want most is your sister?” Shannon shakes her head and Jim continues. “I was so disgusted with myself. With her. For making me want her. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She sensed it in me, called me a pervert. Worse. The look in her eyes, I couldn’t take it. It just happened.” He’s crying now.

  “And the others? You didn’t have to kill them,” Shannon says quietly.

  “I thought they each were another chance, but none of them were Kaitlyn. They disappointed me. They each were a reminder of what I’d done. They had to go. I helped put up the paneling, so I knew how to take it down and replace it. The cops were clueless. The FBI searched Kaitlyn’s room but never the basement.”

  “Jim, no…,” Shannon says weakly.

  “Emily was by far the toughest.” He looks over Coop’s body. “That cop practically had her under lock and key, but she’d sneak away to see me. I thought she was the one. But she wasn’t. You are.”

  He touches Shannon’s face. “I would drive by the house sometimes, just to think about them. Mrs. Franz would even invite me over for tea every once in a while. Then one day I saw you outside, kicking your soccer ball. I thought Kaitlyn had come back. I asked around and found out you were going to UW–Madison. It was fate.”

  “I’m not your sister,” Shannon tells him.

  “That was the beauty of it. I couldn’t have Kaitlyn. But I could have you. You were my fate,” he repeats. He pulls her in for a kiss, and she doesn’t even bother to push him away.

  “You wanted me because I reminded you of Kaitlyn?” Shannon asks softly.

  He nods. “It’s so good to tell you all this. I’ve never been able to share it with anyone. But what do I do now?” He stops. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then don’t. Turn yourself in. You need help.”

  He shakes his head. “Do you think anyone can help me after what I’ve done?”

  “What are you saying?” Shannon asks.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats. “Kaitlyn.” Shannon’s crying freely now, stuck between fear and sadness.

  “I’m Shannon,” she sobs. “Not Kaitlyn.”

  I step between them. I am not going to sit back and watch another person I love die. I try to push Jim again, but my hands go right through him. I’ve stretched myself too thin.

  I back up, hoping I have enough strength to shield Shannon from whatever Jim has planned for her. I feel a tug, and I’m looking out Shannon’s eyes. The girls did this to me before, when I was alive. They took over my body. I flex my hand, which is her hand.

  “You are disgusting,” I blurt out, which probably isn’t the smartest move, but I can’t help it. I try to back away, but he grabs my—Shannon’s—hair and pulls my face close to his own.

  “Did you kill Haley?” I ask in Shannon’s voice.

  He looks genuinely confused. “No, why would I?”

  “You’re a murderer.”

  “I loved Kaitlyn. I loved the rest too. Shannon, I love you so much it hurts.”

  “You only kill the ones you love?” I ask. “You are a total freak.”

  He slaps me, hard. My vision goes fuzzy for a moment. “Why did you make me do that, Kaitlyn?”

  I try to keep him talking. “You kept souvenirs,” I say. “Emily’s ring. Kaitlyn’s necklace. Gigi’s clutch. Brandy’s ribbon.”

  His face goes pale. “How do you know that?”

  He’s loosened his grip, so I pull back my arm and punch him in the face. I’ve never been in a fight, never hit anyone, but Shannon is strong, and I manage to put a lot of force behind my blow. Pain explodes in my hand.

  But I’ve caught Jim by surprise, and he’s forced back. He trips over Coop’s body and goes down hard, a look of confusion on his face.

  “You and I were meant to be together,” he tells me.

  I turn to run, but he lunges and grabs my legs, sending me crashing to the floor. He has me on my back and is sitting on my chest within seconds. He’s so strong, so heavy. I saw him do this with Kaitlyn. I saw what struggling got her. I go limp.

  “Maybe we can still be together,” I gasp out, trying to keep the disgust from my voice.

  He tilts his head. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Haley.” Coop’s voice sounds like it’s right next to my ear. Suddenly, there’s something in my hand. It’s sharp, and I can feel it slicing into my finger.

  “Yes. I was just surprised. I…love you.” I choke out the words. He eases up for a moment, just a moment, and it’s all I need. I don’t think, I just act.

  I ram the box cutter into his neck. He looks shocked as his hands go to the blade, pulling it from his wound. Blood spurts everywhere, raining down on my—Shannon’s—face.

  His fingers move to my neck and he squeezes. I can’t breathe. I punch at him and can feel his grip weaken. With every heartbeat, he’s losing more and more blood. His life pulses from his body.

  He topples forward, all his weight on me. I roll him off, exhausted. I shake out of Shannon’s body and she scrambles from his side.

  “I don’t…” She’s not sure what she should do. Her kindness—and maybe her love for him—wins out. She takes off her shirt and tries to stanch the flow of blood.

  “Don’t waste your time on him,” I tell her. “He’s not who you thought.”

  But she can’t help that she loved him and thought he loved her. Maybe he did, in his own sick way. She kneels next to him in her sports bra, her arms bruised and her neck red. Her knees are scraped and bloodied. Finally, she stops crying and crawls over to Dad’s body, checking for a pulse.

  She lets out a relieved sob when she finds he is alive. She gently slaps at his face, and his eyes flutter open. Helping him up, she practically carries him toward the stairs.

  Meanwhile, the puddle around Jim’s body has spread. The Grabbed Girls of Gladwell gather around him, waiting. When Jim’s spirit appears, he looks pleasantly surprised to see them. He grins.

  “Kaitlyn,” he whispers. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  A dark doorway appears behind him. A black darker than the deepest night. Kaitlyn steps forward and places her hand on his chest, pushing him. Brandy grabs his left arm and Emily his right. Gigi stands next to Kaitlyn, and with both hands begins to shove. Together they maneuver him toward the doorway.

  “Wait!” He tries to fight them. “I want to stay here.” He struggles, but he can’
t overpower them all.

  With a final push, Jim is gone.

  I hope there is a hell and that Jim Pratt rots there forever.

  The girls look at each other, and one by one a doorway appears for each of them. Light fills the basement. Kaitlyn is the first to go, then Gigi and Brandy. The look of relief on their faces gives me hope. Wherever Jim went, the girls have gone someplace else. Someplace better.

  Finally, Emily is the only one left. She looks like an old photograph, colored in with shades of gray, her hair tinted the palest yellow. It’s the brightest thing about her and frames her face in an eerie light. She turns to Coop, who goes and kneels before her.

  Emily, who is there and not there, stands in front of him. If you can call it standing. She doesn’t float exactly, but it doesn’t look like her feet touch the basement laminate either. She reaches toward her brother, stopping short of his bowed head. She has long, slender fingers. She caresses the air around him. It’s like she doesn’t remember how to be a part of this world, the rules she must follow.

  Coop begins to sob. Finally, he will see his sister at rest.

  The temperature in the basement drops in the span of seconds. My arms and legs are freezing, and I can see my breath.

  “Emily?” Coop asks, raising his head, and when I turn my attention to her again, her pale form has sharpened. Gone is the look of love she has for her brother. Her kind face scrunches, as if she’s stricken. Now she’s the one sobbing, but soundlessly. I can just make out the tears streaking down her face. Suddenly, her yellow hair is not the brightest thing about her. Her tears turn red. She’s crying blood.

  “Please, Emily. I just wanted to help you,” Coop tells her. She howls at him, staring through bloody, endless voids where her eyes should be.

  I rush to Coop and grab him, hauling him to his feet. I push him behind me.

  “Emily. You’re free!” I yell at her. “You need to go.”

  She looks at me, her eyes again normal, just a girl. She looks like she pities me. Her door appears, and she gives me one last nod before she disappears through it.

  Why would Emily want to hurt Coop? Or was she just upset that he’s dead? It doesn’t matter.

  I turn to Coop. “It’s over,” I say.

  COOP IS STARING at where Emily disappeared.

  “She didn’t know what she was doing,” I assure him. “She’s gone now. She’s where she should be. You’ll be with her soon.”

  “Do you really think we’ll be together there?” he asks quietly. “Wherever there is?”

  “I hope so. I want to see my mom again.”

  He wraps me in a hug. “I hope we can be together too.”

  “Coop, I’m so sorry.” I eye his body. “You didn’t deserve to die like that. It’s not fair.”

  “I don’t blame you,” he tells me. “I think everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “There are things you don’t know, Haley.”

  “I just wish—”

  “Nothing can change what happened,” he interrupts. “I’m as dead as you are now. You should go ahead and I’ll follow after. I don’t want you to fade.”

  I shake my head. “I want to stay with you. We can go through together.”

  “You can’t call the doorway, can you?” he asks.

  I think hard, try to picture myself leaving. “No…I don’t think I can.”

  “You’re not done here, then.”

  “But I saved Shannon,” I say, not understanding. “I helped the Grabbed Girls get justice.”

  “But you don’t know who killed you,” Coop says.

  I stare at him. “It was Jim Pratt. Mystery solved.”

  But Coop shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”

  “How do you know I can’t call my doorway?” I ask.

  “Because I feel mine tugging at me,” he says sadly. “I don’t want to leave without you,” Coop continues. “I don’t want to leave at all. I don’t think we’re going to the same place.”

  “Don’t be scared, Coop,” I tell him. Because weirdly, I’m not frightened.

  He shakes his head. “Wherever I’m going, it’s not full of light and contentment.”

  “Why would you think that?” I tell him. “What could you have done that was so awful? You’re just scared.”

  His face falls, and he motions behind me. I turn, the smile dropping from my face.

  A doorway is there.

  And it’s dark.

  “I WAS SO miserable before I met you,” Coop says sadly. “The Grabbed Girls ruled my life, filled my nights with nightmares and my days with fear. They ruined Chris. They ruined everything. Then you came along.” He reaches out a hand, but I back away.

  “You were so beautiful. And you saw them too! Or at least, bits of them. A glimpse here, a whisper there. I knew you’d be the one to help them, but the thing that we both have, it wasn’t strong enough in you.

  “I told you they never spoke to me…and that was true…but I’d get these feelings. Things they needed, or wanted. I tried to ignore them, but we needed a go-between. A conduit. I rationalized that I wasn’t really hurting you, because I knew you’d still be here.”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “I pushed you down the stairs, Haley,” he confesses. “I’m responsible for what happened.”

  “You killed me! And my mom is dead because of what you did.” I crouch and again let loose my pain. The house shakes around me, but I don’t care. This must be how Shannon felt. Betrayed, disoriented, and above all, miserable.

  “Haley, don’t.”

  “Don’t act like you care.”

  “I do care,” he tells me desperately. “I’ve always cared. I know what I did was wrong. I knew I would pay for it.”

  “Pay how? No one knows what you did. No one will ever know.”

  His doorway still lingers. “I can feel what lies beyond,” he tells me. “It’s not pleasant.”

  “So go!” I yell. I hate him and I love him and I hate myself for loving him.

  “I will. I will if that’s what you want. But maybe I can make it up to you.”

  “How? I’m dead.”

  “I can stay. Here. I can watch Shannon. Protect her. Or try to. Make sure she gets to live the long, happy life that neither of us had a chance to.”

  I stand slowly. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I might deserve what waits on the other side of that doorway, but I can try to atone for what I did before I go.”

  “How do I know you will? That you won’t just fade away?”

  “I can only promise….”

  “How can I trust you?” I lash out. “How can I believe anything you say?”

  “If you tell me to go right now, I will,” he whispers. “If you want me to stay, I’ll do that too. I’m sorry, Haley.”

  “I hate you,” I whisper. For killing me. For making me love him.

  “I know.”

  “Stay. Stay and watch Shannon. Stay and fade away to nothing. I don’t care,” I lie.

  He nods, accepting.

  I feel it now. The pull. I let it engulf me, and my doorway appears.

  Relief washes over me. I feel such contentment that I know I’ll be fine if I go through. Maybe I’ll be at rest, or maybe I’ll see my mom. I think of everyone I care about—my dad, Shannon, Raina, even Sera and Josh and Mrs. Franz. But I can’t worry about them. They are on their own path. Their destinies aren’t in my control.

  I don’t envy Coop and his dark doorway.

  I take a step forward and am awash in light.

  “I’m so sorry, Haley,” Coop says behind me.

  The last image I see is his face, a faint smile. I’m doing what he wants, but it isn’t to make hi
m feel better. It’s for me. So I can move on.

  And I do. I step into my corridor of light, and I am released.

  I am so excited for my fourth book to come into this world. Thank you to everyone who has followed me from my end-of-the-world sci-fi series to Scottish witches and now to Midwestern ghosts. And thank you to anyone who just happened to pick this book up. I’m very grateful to each and every reader.

  Last year I learned I have cancer—yep, the big C—and I have relied on so many people this past year. The YA community is amazing, and so many people reached out and shared their stories and offered support. Thank you to each and every one of you.

  I would especially like to thank all my family members who made this book possible. My in-laws, Rhonda, Jay, Jamie, Hayden, and Zack. My sister, Nyssa, who came to every one of my surgeries. My brother Alex, who let me stay with him whenever I needed. And my brother Niko, who always made me laugh. Oh, and the biggest thank-you to my husband, whose unwavering support and optimism saw me through my worst days.

  Thank you to my crit partners, Kate Karyus Quinn and Mindy McGinnis. You two are not only the best of authors but also the best of friends.

  Thank you, Maura Kye-Casella, agent extraordinaire. Your knowledge and experience make you a top agent, but it’s your enthusiasm that makes you awesome. I love our brainstorming sessions and hearing you say, “Yes, that’s the one. Write that!”

  My team at Delacorte Press have also been amazingly supportive, and we’ve seen it through! Thank you for all the extensions and concern. Thank you, Audrey Ingerson, for always being on top of things! I’d also like to thank my design team: Angela Carlino, Ken Crossland, and Natalie Sousa. Thank you for the beautiful cover. And my copy editor, Colleen Fellingham. Thank you for your hard work. I am so sorry for all the justs we had to remove. I just…love…justs.

  Thank you, Wendy Loggia. You’re the best editor a writer could have. I’m so lucky to have your keen eye and editorial advice. Your insights are so clever, and your suggestions spot-on; you make me dig deeper and become a better writer. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!

  DEMITRIA LUNETTA is the author of Bad Blood, In the After, and In the End. Like Haley, she loves Chicago and deep dish pizza. Unlike Haley, she also loves Wisconsin and creepy old houses.