The Ghost of a Chance by Natalie Vivien Read Free Book Online

ourselves into hysterics.
    Again, I regard the typewriter,
swallowing hard. Will I ever be prepared to read her words? Once I have read
them, and there are no more— Well, it has to be done, sooner or later, and I
have all the time in the world right now. My leave from the library is for an
indeterminate amount of time—"as long as you need, Darcy"—and there
are no other matters pressing on my mind. Chores, meals, bills...all can wait.
    My curiosity is unrelenting. I tear
the page from the roller and begin to devour it with my eyes at once.
     
    VIOLA: You're a saucy one. But
lovely, despite all else. I understand why Orsino desires you.
    OLIVIA: Desires me? Ha! Wants me
for his collection, more like. His pretty parade, his "ladies of the
night," eh? Fancy words, fancy clothes. When it all comes down to a pile
of dirty bed sheets, spit and groans, what's the use of airs, then?
    VIOLA: Lady, I do not think he will
give up this courtship. His flame for you burns too bright. Were I in his
place, I could not give it up, either—nor would I want to.
    OLIVIA: Oh? And how would
you..."court" me, as you say?
     
    I look away, draw in a deep breath.   My tears stain the page, long wet grey
smears blurring precious words, before I realize I’m crying. Half-blind, I flip
through the entire manuscript, reading bits here and there.
    An odd tingling sensation begins to
build up, starting from my fingertips, spreading upward, to my arms,
shoulders... Now, my head. I cup my ears but feel nothing, numb, as if my whole
body has fallen asleep. Downward the tingling goes, throughout my torso,
traveling under and over my skin on tiny feet like pinpricks. I fall to the
couch against the front wall, unable to stand on unfeeling feet.
    What’s happening? Something is— Why
can't I—
    "Ohhhh..."
    The tingling stops, replaced by a
gushing pressure that forces my insides to compress, make room, for this
fullness in my chest... My heart expands, grows so large as to press against my
ribs. My ribs...my heart...   Our heart.
    Without willing it or bidding my
body to move, I find myself walking, striding, confident and purposeful, in the
direction of the bathroom. Panic infects my brain; my hair stands on end. I
can't stop this. I'm trapped. Something is... Someone...
    We stand before the mirror,
Catherine and I. The reflection is my own, save for the eyes. They’re green.
Her eyes. Her soul glows within them, brilliant, hungry, wanting...
    "I want you, too," I try
to say but only think. She has control of me, of us.
    I’m possessed. Catherine's spirit
is inside of me. Two as one.
    Whole.
    Portia weaves between our legs,
purring so loudly that I—we—laugh and kneel down to pet her smooth white back.
When we stand up, Catherine gazes softly at the mirror, at me, lips parting. I
want to touch her; I want her to touch me. As if she feels the same way, she
leans toward the glass, breath fogging the surface, and gently kisses it. She
moves my finger to draw a heart around the shape of her—our—lips, and then lays
my hand on my cheek, caressing. I feel warm... The hand, at her command, traces
the line of my neck, my collarbone. Fingers at my hips, unfastening the
buttons, sliding in, down and within...reaching, probing.
    I can't respond, can't even cry
out, but the waves shake me, undo me. I gasp without breath, moan without a
voice. More, I want to beg. More, more—
    I collapse onto the floor, on hands
and knees, sobbing like I have never sobbed before. Pleasure gives way to
immediate pain. Our lungs ache, our head pounds... I can't hold her; I can't
say anything. Mute and paralyzed, I understand what it means to be in hell.
    This is wrong.
    I want this to stop.
    And all at once, it does. My back
arches, my fingers splay, and with a painful ripping sensation, she leaves me.
She's gone. "Catherine?" My throat is sore with tears.
    Where has she gone?
    I can move. I rise, fearing my own
limbs might, at any moment, move contrary to my bidding.