Summer Shadows

There were three other distinct points in the recent past Simon could recall that an unparalleled alarm coursed through him because of Magnolia Walton.

He hadn't expected his father to walk into their summer home with the girl who'd been his only source of communication for a few weeks in January in tow, to start. He hadn't expected to ever see her again, frankly, but there she was, and so was his father, knowingly pushing buttons in an attempt to pull some admittance of just who he really was into the light of day. He had been so shocked, he'd barely stopped himself from calling out her name, and going straight to her side. Upon his entry she had been rendered silent, a look of complete and heartbreaking shock on her face as their eyes met. For a moment she had seen it, seen him as Simon. But as soon as his father had introduced him, it was as if her heart had shattered all over again.

The second was on the day he’d found her at the bottom of the pool, struggling against something dark he couldn’t quite make out; but something--nonetheless--he knew should not be there. She'd almost drowned, and in his idiotic mindset that avoiding closeness with her was the best thing for both of them, he'd handled the whole situation disastrously, leaving her even more isolated and closed off in it's wake.

Time number three came weeks later; upon arriving back from dropping his father off at the airport and the subsequent longwinded confrontation he wanted to forget all about, Lillian had told him where Maggie had gone in the dead of night, not long before he’d arrived. That entire instance was panic driven; he had ran much faster than any of his near daily excursions across the Ravenel Bridge in order to get to her, praying he reached her on time. He was fairly certain his fingers had found her wrist not a moment too soon as he’d tugged her from the currents of Breach Inlet.

This, was the fourth time; watching her fall backwards and into the arms of the very source of all of her suffering that summer. In the brief moments building up to the inevitable, Simon had felt just as shocked as Maggie seemed to be, her wide eyes immediately latching on to his. The look of fear and desperation on her face called out echoes of how she’d looked on that fateful evening in January; on what he had thought would be the last time he would ever see her. God, that look felt as though it ripped a hole in his heart. But more than anything, in that instant, it terrified him. Even if he tried, it was too late to prevent the inevitable. Simon Dreyton knew there was no chance to save her from the depths of the dead boy that were about to swallow her whole in his own kitchen.

Despite that, his hand reached out across the island bar towards hers, his voice almost catching in his throat. “Maggie—“

Even though he knew all too well the ease of shifting to a state where one couldn’t be seen, he’d never utilized it much with her, except after the time he’d come to learn she’d intentionally pushed him away; one of her attempts to save him from the cruel reality of his situation back in January. Only then had he really kept himself off the radar, intentionally out of sight from her. But he’d been close by for the most part; there had been a brief span he’d pushed himself as far from her as possible, but he’d always returned, unable to keep himself away from the odd girl, even when she’d managed to cut him deep with words he’d come to learn she hadn’t really meant.

Darren, on the other hand, seemingly stayed in his ‘nonexistent’ presence more often than not. Simon could see what Maggie could of the dead, not to his surprise. It only made sense to be able to interact with those on the same plane of existence—or nonexistence--as you. But even then, he still couldn’t see the others when they didn’t want to be seen. Even those caught between existences were afforded some level of privacy, he supposed. While with another dead soul that wouldn’t have been an issue, Darren’s presence—and his intentions—made him far too dangerous to not worry and fret over where he was, and what exactly he was doing. He’d been completely silent since the night of the incident with Katie. Simon almost wasn’t surprised he’d shown back up. Or maybe he’d just been there all along.

It only took the blink of an eye for Darren to vanish as she fell in to him, and Maggie’s eyes to roll back as they fell shut. Katie let out a cry as her friend hit the ground and Simon found himself reaching across the counter to grab her arm when she moved towards Maggie’s side. The blonde cut him a sharp look, immediately trying to shake his grip off. But Simon didn’t budge. He met her gaze, lips set in a firm line.

“Katie, you need to stay back. Come around the counter. Do not go near her,” he could hear the iciness in his own voice.

Katie gave her arm a tug again, in a very Maggie-like move. “She just passed out and you’re telling me—“

“She didn’t pass out and that is not Maggie at this point. You need to trust me—“

“See, that’s just rude. You were just going to leave me here in the floor, potentially concussed?”

They both looked down then, the girl on the ground pushing herself to her elbows and then to a completely seated position. She stopped then, pausing to examine her hands as she rubbed her fingers together. “Mmm. ‘Suppose she was right. You don’t really think about how it feels to not feel, unless you get the chance to experience it. But I guess you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, ah, what was your name again? Simon?”

The thing that wore Maggie’s skin glanced up at him, smiling in a way that made his blood run cold. The smile didn’t feel right; not coming from her. But that wasn’t the worst part; the eyes, the dead brown eyes that fixated on him with some kind of fascinated malice were definitely not Maggie’s. Was that what it had seemed like to her when he was in someone else? Completely wrong? Hadn’t she told him that once?

“Holy shit, it really is you, isn’t it? Sounds like you’ve cheated death not once, but twice. Don’t worry, third time is a charm, I’ve heard.” The sound of the laugh that left Maggie’s body felt so unnatural. God, everything about that situation was unnatural; unnerving even. With one more shove, Darren maneuvered her body off the ground. For just a second, a slight wince crossed his face. “Man, she absolutely thought you were dead, and that it was all her fault. God, you should have seen her that day at your grave. She never looked at me the way she did at just your fucking tombstone. You know she’ll own up to… whatever happened to you? But absolutely not what she did to me?”

At his side, Katie mumbled a not so quiet, “What the fuck—“

She had moved at some point, in his fixation on the absolute hazard that had control of Maggie he hadn’t noticed exactly when. Good. He wanted her out of immediate contact range. Even behind him didn't feel like the safest, but definitely safer. Those brown eyes shifted lazily in Katie’s direction, head tilting just the slightest.

“How’s your throat, Blondie? You know, I was going to kill you that night, but Christ you’ve got one hell of a scream, and it’s more fun to torment her like this. Pretty sure she was about to get it on with Simon here if it hadn’t been for that. Imagine that despair she’d feel, hooking up with the subject of her obsession while best friend number two was murdered just down the hall.” Darren held up two fingers as he spoke, leaning lightly on the counter before him. Simon couldn’t help but protectively put an arm out in front of Katie.

“You—what the hell is wrong with you—“ The nerves in Katie’s voice were very apparent. She was afraid; and confused. No one could blame her for that.

“Me? What the hell is wrong with me?” He mocked, pulling Maggie’s features into a look of feigned shock, leaning back a little as he put a hand on her chest. “Probably the fact I’m dead, and it’s this little bitch’s fault. Wouldn’t that piss you off, just a bit?”

“It’s not her fault that happened to you.” At Simon’s words, Darren looked back at him once more, a deadened stare this time greeted him.

“Considering you’ve got a perpetual hard-on for Little Miss I See Dead People, I find that extremely difficult to believe.” Darren gave a wince after he spoke, brow furrowing slightly.

“I sent that text on that night; the one that triggered you showing up at her house, probably triggered your death as well. And you and I have actually spoken before, or, at least had an altercation. You just don’t seem to recall it.” Simon could see he had the deceased’s interest. He wasn’t going to let that go. A cold smile pulled at his lips. “I’ve never taken more joy in hitting someone in self defense with a vase to the head as I did to you that day when you tried to wrap your hands around my—I mean her—throat. “

Silence filtered in briefly as the three stared at each other. Maggie’s ex seemed actually shocked by this revelation; mouth slightly agape as the words seemed to process.

“…Wait. That. That was you? Then?” The genuine inflection almost made it seem like it was actually Maggie again, but it wasn’t. Simon couldn’t lose sight of that. Maggie was gone, and he needed to somehow get her back while keeping himself and Katie safe at the same time.

“What? You think you’re the only one who’s mastered the art of possession? Do you think this is my body? Close, very close. But not quite. I’m fairly certain Oliver wasn’t and isn’t going to wake up. And let me give you a little tip.” Simon had both hands on the counter as he leaned across, eyes dead set on Darren’s. “Every time you do it, it’s going to get a little harder to get out. It’s like quicksand, and it’s draining. You think not having a form is a choice right now? If you try that enough, you won’t have the energy to maintain a form outside of a human host for long--if at all.”

Simon almost caught himself telling the asshole across the counter how the last time he had left Oliver’s body, he almost hadn’t been able to get back in, how he actually felt close to being nothing. That was when he’d found himself at the hospital in Charleston; and the very first time James Dreyton had bluntly expressed more than just a hint that he knew he wasn’t actually Oliver. But on that night; he felt like he hadn’t had much choice. Maggie wasn’t reacting well to the Oliver front, and he knew he wasn’t helping matters. He had to know what was wrong, though. What had happened to her that day? His assumption that she’d open up better when presented with Simon had been painfully accurate. God, even the way she’d looked at him had been such a stark contrast. He still had her, even after months; Maggie Walton hadn’t managed to let him go, just as he still thought about her more often than not. It made keeping his distance that much harder. He wanted more than anything to be there for her, but how could he, when he was the reason she’d been put through so much to begin with?

Across the island bar, Maggie’s face contorted into a pained expression as her hands came up, gripping either side of her head. A few slow breaths left her figure with a stream of curses. Simon arched an eyebrow.

“Jesus Christ that hurts,” Darren’s words came out as a hiss, taking a step or two back. Those off brown eyes closed; and after a few moments, opened again slowly. He’d moved her body back, reclining against the counter behind him. “So you’re telling me, she wasn’t actually the catalyst? It was you all along?”

“Very much so. She tends to get caught in the crossfires of issues that… I’ve brought about. In one way or another.” Simon frowned. That statement was unfortunately true.

“And, what? You think explaining this is going to make me stop harassing her, or you guys?” Maggie’s small hand gestured towards the both of them. For the first time Simon felt Katie’s grip on his arm. She’d been unusually quiet the whole time. God knows the poor girl was in over her head with what was happening. “Because that’s a damn bad assumption. All it’s done is shift my plans a bit. I was going to kill you, you know. Make her watch. But maybe you should be the one watching her suffer instead, huh, buddy?”

An iron knot settled in Simon’s stomach as he watched those wretched brown eyes slowly slide to the right; settling on the block of knives. Darren moved again at a leisurely pace, pulling one out slightly before putting it back, and then another. He settled on the third knife; not the biggest in the block, but certainly far from the smallest. Another tiny wince flashed across his face as he examined it.

“What, the hell are you doing?” Katie’s voice finally made an appearance, and she sounded further back than she had been. That was good; maybe she’d at least make a break for the door.

Darren looked up; tilting Maggie’s head just a bit, he lightly ran her fingers along the tip of the knife. “Oh, holy shit. You think I’m going to try to use this on you guys, don’t you? It’s two on one, Mags is fucking tiny, and this asshole here has got at least a foot on her. I’m sure as hell not stupid enough to try to do anything to you.”

“Don’t you dare—“ Katie suddenly sounded livid.

The way he had finished his sentence set off alarm bells in Simon’s mind. He began to move; he could be over the counter in less than a second—

“Ah ah ah, I really wouldn’t do that at if I were you. My hand could slip, you know. I could accidentally cut something important if I were star—“ Darren’s words cut off as he suddenly doubled over, hand gripped tightly around the blade of the knife. “Fuck—Fuck get—Jesus Christ stop—“

Whatever was happening to him, it wasn’t normal. None of Simon’s experiences inside someone else’s body had left him in anguish—except when he’d inflicted it upon his host himself. It was hard to forget the pain that came with throwing himself out of a window; the shattered bones and all else that followed. Whatever this was, was hurting Darren from the inside. It provided ample opportunity for Simon to make a move though, pushing up and over the counter and landing at the possessed girl’s side. The words coming from Maggie hadn’t stopped at all, and for a brief moment, Simon was too stunned to move.

“GetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetOUT—“ Maggie’s voice was a frantic, shrill screech, growing louder with each word as her body began to convulse. Her legs gave out and the girl began to writhe on the floor, hand still wrapped firmly around the blade of the knife as her eyes rolled back for the second time that day.

“Maggie oh my god—“ Katie’s cries were close by this time, and Simon was already on the ground beside the girl as the blonde approached. A steady string of shining red had made its way down her wrist as the knife cut into the palm of the hand tightly squeezed around it, and whatever panic Simon had lost temporarily returned tenfold. His hands shook as he tried to pry her fingers off of the blade, mumbling her name over and over. Katie’s voice continued on behind him. “I’m calling 9-1-1 oh my god Maggie—“

Then, just as suddenly as the convulsions had started, Maggie’s figure grew still; limbs de-tensing as she suddenly went limp. The vice grip she’d had on the blade was no more, and Simon tore it from her hold before flinging it across the floor. For the briefest moment; he couldn’t even see a trace of movement from the girl on the ground. But then, one shuddering breath left her before the steady rise and fall of her chest resumed. The palm of her open hand was stained a shining burgundy, and his eyes settled there only a moment before he reached up, fumbling to pull the dishrag off of the dishwasher and tying it tightly around the wound. From there he wasted no time shifting the girl into his arms and off the ground.

Outside of Oliver, Simon had never fretted over another soul as much as he did Maggie Walton. The loss of his brother had hit him like a shotgun to the chest; the shock and pain of having the closest person in the world to him comatose at the hands of what had seemed to be a hate crime had made him snap; overnight he’d become bitter, cruel and aggressive. Oliver had always brought out the best in him; and in his recklessness in the days after the ‘accident’ he’d put himself in a situation that ended his very life.

He’d taken it all out on Maggie at the start; a vicious and cruel cycle of making the one person who was capable of helping him miserable. And then, the fear began to settle in; fear of those he’d considered closest actually despising him enough to cause him harm; using him for their own benefits; and a distinct fear of her. Her closeness; her ability to see through his complete bullshit; and most of all, a fear of how she had made him feel. The longer he was with her, the more he wanted to stay close to her. She was frustrating, but caring, and he could see it in her face that his pain hurt her on some level. She was the only other person outside of Oliver who had ever tried to protect him. The idea of what would happen once the truth of his death surfaced had terrified him. There came a point where he hadn’t wanted to leave her. For all the despicable people his death had revealed in his life, at least death had given him her, and aside from Oliver, the only genuine care and concern he could recall from another human being. By the end of it, he’d done the only thing he could to save her from dying because of the mess he’d gotten her into. It took him up until those final, heart-wrenching moments to come to terms with the truth; Magnolia Walton had become his world.

His mind briefly jumped to the memory of the day that he’d twisted his ankle back in Rhode Island; their altercation afterwards in his guise as Oliver, and her admittance that she was in love with him. His eyes traced across her soft, unconscious face as her head lolled against his chest. He had unwittingly brought so much pain and suffering to a girl he had been in love with for months—and very much still was.

“Katie, we need to go to the hospital. Now. Are you okay to drive, or should I?” He spoke calmly--much to his surprise--but his eyes never left Maggie.

The girl in front of him spoke with a trembling voice. “I-I—oh my god--“

From another part of the house, the sound of an opening and closing door echoed, followed soon by a frantic set of footsteps. Simon’s eyes rose as Cal barreled in the kitchen doorway. His gaze rapidly darted from Katie, to Simon and Maggie.

“Lillian told me something was wrong—are you guys okay?”

Lillian; of course it was Lillian. God, that girl was truly a lifesaver.

Simon let out a shaky sigh. “Katie and I are fine. Maggie… is going to need some stitches in her hand, and maybe a few tests run. We need to get to the hospital, soon preferably.”

Cal nodded, motioning for them to follow without another word. As soon as Katie was within reach he wrapped an arm around her, planting a kiss on her temple as he guided them out of the house and to his car. Lillian stood on the front porch by the stairs, leaning on the railing as they walked by. Simon gave her a small nod of appreciation, which she returned with a look of understanding. He glanced back up to where she had been once he’d gotten Maggie in the backseat. Lillian was gone.

Neither Simon nor Cal so much as spoke of the fact that Lillian Huffington’s death had come two years prior.

***

The first muddled, hazy trace of consciousness that greeted me was a bumpy one, and it only came briefly. My head throbbed worse than any time I could recall, and as I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the blurry sight of the back of a car seat. Even though the car interior was all dark grey and blacks the light pouring through the windows was too bright. The voices were a low murmur as I let out a pained groan. They quieted then, and I tried to cover my eyes. The car hit a bump and a new, roaring wave of pain hit my head and… somewhere else. Fighting to keep awake didn’t seem worth it. It hurt too much.

So I stopped trying and let the blackness take over for a while longer.