"Help! Help us!"

"This is it! This is our chance!"

It's even louder now than before. Why is it so loud? I lift my hands to my ears, but they won't stop, and I'm pressing so hard, but I can still hear them. I'm squeezing my eyes shut, but they won't stop.

"Help us!"

"Let us go!"

"Felix? Felix, hey, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Stop resisting, come on! Give in! Give in!"

"I--What is it? Connor's asleep, I don't--I don't know what to do."

"You're useless! Stupid!"

Go away, go away. I start hitting my head, but it won't stop, and it hurts my wrist but I need to make it stop.

"Why don't you just help us!"

"Felix, please, stop it! You're scaring me!"

The voice is high-pitched, and it's young. It sounds so young. It drips with fear, and I don't want it to be scared, so I open my eyes and Lucy is standing above me with tears in her eyes. I take it back. I don't care if she's scared.

"Help us!"

"What's wrong with you? Help us!"

It won't stop. I just want it all to stop. I squeeze my eyes shut again, and I keep banging my head, and it's dazing me, but the voices keep coming back.

"Felix, please! What's wrong? Let me help!"

Lucy's crying. Why is she crying? This is all her fault. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. She keeps calling my name, and it sounds so hurt, so frightened, and I'm frustrated at myself because I feel bad for her. Her wailing is almost as loud as the voices, and I can't ignore it. It's seeping through my skin, rattling my bones, and my heart is aching for her because it sounds so damn sad, and it shouldn't be and it's pissing me off. I'm so agitated that it takes me a moment to realise the voices are gone. I release my hands from my ears. They're gone.

I open my eyes, and Lucy's still there. Her blonde hair looks limp, and her cheeks are stained with tears. Why is she getting so upset? All I did was bash myself in the head a few times. My breathing is rapid, and I take a moment to slow it. I sigh, and for the first time since I yelled at her for being a treacherous bitch, I say something to her that isn't just a grunt.

"C'mon then, who did it? Was it the butler?" I ask as I struggle to lift myself into an upright position, but Lucy responds with a blank stare. "Who killed you?"

"Oh, uh." She looks down, refusing to meet my eyes. "I don't know yet, Connor hasn't, uh, he hasn't told me yet."

I don't try to hide my laugh. "You're going to be waiting a while."

"I'm sorry."

She utters the words before I've even finished speaking. It sounds sincere, not that it matters. It's too late now. I scan her freckled face. She looks the youngest she has since I've known her, and I remind myself that she is only fourteen. I have a habit of forgetting that, not that it excuses anything.

"What happened just now? Was it a nightmare?"

I ignore her question. I've already entertained her for longer than I should. I understand she's desperate to know what happened to her, but we could've helped her with that. If I realised it meant that much to her, we could've helped her so much more. No wonder she seemingly lost interest towards the end. In her mind, Connor is some omniscient angel who's promised her the world. I hope she's finally crashed back to reality.

"Connor said he knew, he--One of the spirits told me something about what happened, and it triggered my memory, so they know. They must know."

"Sounds pretty flimsy to me," I mutter.

"He said he wasn't going to hurt you, I didn't--I didn't mean for this to happen." She stammers. "He's trying to do good, he's going to make the world better. Dark spirits don't get a chance to do anything, and--and they're lonely, they can't speak to anyone. They can't redeem themselves if they don't get the chance. Connor's trying to help them, he--"

"He murdered my entire family."

Lucy trips over her words. She doesn't actually buy into that bullshit, does she? I of all people know how manipulative Connor can be, but that's so obviously bullshit. These dark spirits she feels so bad for are murderers, abusers, rapists.

"He can bring people back," Lucy says, which makes me give her the most perplexed look yet. "He knows a way, he said so. He could bring your family back. He's trying to do good, he is."

"Right. And I bet he's told you all about this magical way to bring people back from the dead."

"No, no, not the dead, from The Beginning, and--and the banished too, to give them a second chance at redeeming themselves."

Really? I know this whole ghost thing is new to her, and sure, she's young, but she can't actually believe that. As I scan her eyes, which still haven't met my own, it dawns on me that she's not kidding. She's deadly serious. She actually believes it.

"Oi, you're meant to tell us when he wakes up!"

I snap my attention to the doorway, and Christopher comes barging into the room, all chord trousers and ugly striped shirt. He looks like a twat. I've told him that several times. He shoves Lucy in her chest, nearly tripping her up, and I jump from the sofa, except I fail to actually stand and end up falling back down. God, I'm pathetic.

"Don't hit her, she's just a kid!"

Christopher turns to me, tells me to shut up, then calls me a profanity that would make his mother want to wash his mouth out with soap.

"I can't leave you idiots alone for five minutes," Connor mutters as he makes his grand appearance.

His eyes are slightly droopy as he yawns, so I figure he must've just woken up. He didn't hear me trying to bash my own brain out of my skull earlier, did he? He tells the spirits to leave, then turns to me. The spirits do as they're told, and Connor's still staring. I used to think it was cool that we looked so much alike. Now it makes me feel sick. Why is he staring at me?

"You having an aneurism or something?" I mutter as I lie back down, and turn away from him.

I expect him to hit me because that's generally his go-to response whenever I make a snide comment, but nothing happens. He must've miraculously gained some control over his temper.

"You seem better," he says with way too much cheer in his voice. "I'm making breakfast, if you want some?"

Wow, what a treat! What a generous guy. I don't respond to him. The mention of food makes my stomach rumble though, and I curse it for giving the game away. It's one of the rare days I actually feel like eating. I'm not sure if Connor's still standing there, but if he is, he's unnervingly quiet. I'm assuming he'll send me back to the radiator soon. I almost miss it, in a weird way. It's like a pet.

Ugh, what am I talking about? I'm losing my mind.

Connor must be gone because the room is silent again, and there's a faint smell of bacon. He better remember I'm vegetarian. I turn back around so I'm not staring into the back of the sofa, and I'm right. Connor's gone. I shut my eyes. It's so quiet. We must literally be in the middle of nowhere.

"Let us go!"

I shoot my eyes open. No, no no.

"Stupid, stupid child!"

"Why aren't you doing anything!"

They're coming back. No. I want to shut my eyes but I know that makes it worse, so I focus on the smell of cooking, but the voices won't stop. The heaviness is creeping back in, and my breathing is turning short. I'm starting to panic.

"Come on! Stupid child!"

No, no, no. I'm panicking. Control yourself, stop it. Stop it. The panic is so much that I can barely even hear the voices anymore, but it's not relieving, it's somehow even worse than when I could hear them, and I can't think straight, and--There's a loud swishing sound, the door to my left slams shut, and I'm stunned. Was that me? Did I just do that?

"What the--Christopher?" Connor calls from what I figure must be the kitchen. "William?"

Shit, that was definitely me. I blink slowly. The voices. They're gone. The voices have gone. My breathing is quick and uneven, and I concentrate on it until it slows down. I groan. It's like my telekinesis is dangling itself in front of my eyes, mocking me for being a completely useless ability. I'm hardly going to escape this place by banging doors.

My telekinesis has sprung to mind before, but I've got no idea how it could ever be of any use. When I'm not handcuffed to something, I'm being watched twenty-four seven. Why am I even entertaining the thought? As if I can even control it in the first place.

The door handle lowers, and Connor emerges into the room as he says, "sorry, they're idiots sometimes." He's carrying a plate stacked with so much food that I'm questioning how none of it's fallen on the floor. "I got these meatless sausages. I don't know if they're any good, they smelled a bit funky, but I checked the reviews online and they were good, so maybe they're alright. I'm not sure."

I briefly think how that's kind of sweet, then immediately question where my sanity has gone. The last thing I need right now is to develop stockholm syndrome.