Chapter 6: A Ghost’s Hunger and Goodbye

I clung to the ghost and wouldn’t let her keep following Lila.

Every time she crept close, I’d block her path, throwing myself between her and my sister, teeth bared. It became a game of cat and mouse, played in the half-light of dusk.

I followed Dad’s family from a distance.

I kept to the shadows, watching through foggy windowpanes as they made dinner, laughing and dancing in the kitchen. I pressed my face to the glass, longing to feel the warmth inside.

Lila attracted many wandering spirits.

Some were harmless, drifting by on the wind. Others lingered, eyes dark and empty, reaching for her with icy fingers.

Whenever one came, I blocked it. Just like that, four years passed.

It was a lonely job, but I did it anyway. I watched Lila grow taller, her laughter ringing out across the yard as I shooed away ghost after ghost.

But I was too greedy for warmth.

Sometimes, late at night, I’d press my hand against the kitchen window, hoping to feel the heat from inside. I’d listen to Dad read bedtime stories, my heart aching with every word.

So I secretly stood outside the window, watching Dad.

I’d curl up by the porch, listening as rain pattered on the roof, picturing what it would be like to be inside again, wrapped in a blanket with my family.

On Lila’s first day of elementary school, to encourage her, Miss Janine made a table full of delicious food.

She decorated the kitchen with streamers and balloons, laying out plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and syrupy fruit. The house smelled like home.

She stuffed Lila’s backpack with snacks and toys.

Granola bars, animal crackers, a shiny new pencil case—all the things I used to beg for on my own first day.

Dad knelt down, eye to eye, voice gentle. “Lila, if you can study, study. If not, just eat well.”

In that moment, my heart ached.

The words echoed in my memory—words he’d said to me, too, when I was small and scared.

Dad used to say the same thing to me.

I remembered how he’d tousle my hair, his eyes full of pride, even when my grades were bad.

I stood outside the window and murmured:

“Dad, Ellie is hungry. You haven’t left flowers for me in a long time, or brought me anything to eat.”

I pressed my forehead to the glass, wishing I could go inside, just for a second.

When Lila went out, she suddenly pointed at the window and said:

Her eyes went wide, and she tugged on Dad’s sleeve. “Daddy, big sister…”

Dad’s face changed instantly. He glared at the window.

His eyes went hard, jaw set. He scooped Lila up, pulling her close.

I instinctively wanted to hide, but forgot Dad couldn’t see me at all.

I shrank back, blending into the shadows, even though I knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

After Dad and Lila left, the lady next door knelt by the window, crying and begging me:

Her mascara streaked down her cheeks. She pressed her palms flat to the glass, forehead resting on the cold pane as she pleaded, “Ellie, go to your mom’s side. She moved to Maple Heights—it’s beautiful there, and I heard she gave you a little brother. If you want to find someone, go find them. Please don’t harm Lila, okay?”

“I’m begging you.”

Her voice cracked, hands trembling. She pressed her forehead to the window again and again until her skin turned raw, tiny beads of blood dotting her hairline.

Outside, gravel dug into her knees, but she didn’t stop, whispering prayers into the night.

Dad said nothing. The next day, a cross-shaped charm appeared around Lila’s neck.

It was silver, gleaming in the sun. Dad fastened it with shaking hands, his eyes never meeting hers.

The charm worked.

The moment I tried to get close, a sharp heat burned my skin, pushing me back like an invisible wall. The cross burned hotter than a skillet left on the stove. I stumbled back, the ache settling deep in my chest.

Whenever I tried to approach, it burned me, leaving me weak for days.

The pain was real, sharp as the cut of a knife. I’d stagger away, hiding in the shade until the ache faded.

The good thing was, I no longer had to guard Lila day and night.

I felt relief mixed with guilt, torn between wanting to protect her and wishing I could just rest.

All spirits, including me, couldn’t get close to her anymore.

The house was wrapped in a bubble of warmth, safe from everything—including me.

Over these years, I felt weaker and weaker, and I sensed I wouldn’t last another year in the world.

Each day I faded a little more, my edges blurring until I was almost invisible.

Miss Janine said Mom had a little brother now.

I pictured him: chubby and smiling, wrapped in Mom’s arms, a new start.

I should go see them—just once, from afar.

Maybe it would help. Maybe I could finally say goodbye.