Our Haunted Hearts (ch. 3)

Chapter Three

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             Emma stood at the edge of the woods, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves. The mist clung to the trees like cobwebs, obscuring the path ahead. She had already been turned away once, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. If anything, the rejection had only sharpened her resolve.

            As she trudged forward, the crunch of leaves beneath her boots echoed through the eerie silence. Even the birds seemed to avoid this part of town. Emma couldn’t help but wonder if the curse extended beyond Elias himself, wrapping the forest in its dark, suffocating grip. “Or maybe the guy just doesn’t believe in lawn care,” she muttered to herself, shaking off the unsettling feeling.

            The house loomed in the distance, a crooked silhouette against the gray sky. The ivy-covered walls were damp, dripping with the remnants of a recent rain. It looked less like a home and more like a tomb, something that had been left to decay along with whatever lived inside.

            Emma approached the door, her heart pounding in her chest. She hesitated for only a moment before knocking, her fist landing a bit harder than intended. “Second time’s the charm, right?” she mumbled, half-expecting the door to stay closed. But after a few seconds, it creaked open just enough to reveal Elias standing in the dim light of the entryway.

             His face was as unreadable as ever, his dark eyes shadowed, but there was something different this time—an exhaustion that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t speak, just stared at her with that same look of quiet suffering, as if she were a ghost he had long expected.

            Emma swallowed, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “Hi. I know you said you couldn’t help me, but I’m kind of stubborn. You’re going to have to say no more forcefully.”

            He sighed, stepping aside to let her in. The interior was just as bleak as she remembered. The furniture looked like it hadn’t been moved in years, and the air was thick with dust and neglect. “I told you before,” Elias said, his voice low. “I don’t want your death on my hands.”

           Emma shrugged, dropping her coat over the back of a chair. “Who said anything about death? I just wanted to hang out. Maybe chat about, I don’t know, curses, the futility of existence, whatever passes the time around here.”

           Elias shot her a look, one eyebrow raised, but there was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

            “Let what go?” Emma replied, her voice playful but with an edge of sarcasm. “The fact that I might be in some cosmic death spiral or that I’m talking to a guy who’s single-handedly brought down his entire social circle with his charming personality?”

            Elias let out a breath, the sound closer to a reluctant chuckle. “Oh, so now I’ve killed my entire social circle? I swear, people are so fixated on tragedy.”

            “Especially when it comes to other people’s tragedy,” Emma chimed in. 

            “No, when it comes to theirs as well. Case in point, you being here.” Elias raised an eyebrow. 

            “Guess so,” she said, leaning back in the creaky chair. “I’ve had enough of everyone else trying to tell me to ‘move on’ or ‘find peace’ or whatever empty platitudes people think fix this kind of thing.”

            He nodded, sitting across from her. “I know what that’s like.” His voice softened, eyes distant, as though remembering something far out of reach. “People think they can fix you, but they can’t. They don’t realize how deeply broken you are.”

            The moment hung between them, the weight of their shared pain filling the room like a cold draft. Emma stared at him, feeling a pang of something she hadn’t expected—compassion. She was supposed to be the broken one here, the one seeking an escape. But Elias… he was trapped in his own suffering, and maybe, just maybe, they weren’t so different after all.

            She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “So, this curse of yours… What’s the deal with it? Is it real, or just a convenient excuse for why you keep killing houseplants?”

            Elias shook his head, a faint smile appearing and disappearing in an instant. “It’s real enough. Everyone I’ve ever cared about is gone, one way or another. I thought if I stayed away from people, I could stop it. But the truth is… I’m not sure it’s something I can control.”

            Emma frowned, tapping her fingers against the arm of the chair. “Okay, but have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—people die, and it’s got nothing to do with you? I mean, life’s kind of a rigged game, isn’t it? No one gets out alive.”

            He looked at her, and for the first time since they’d met, something shifted in his gaze. “You’re not afraid of it, are you?”

            “Death?” Emma let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not anymore. I think I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m just biding my time until the universe decides it’s done with me.”

            Elias studied her for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable once more. “You remind me of someone,” he said softly. “Someone who used to believe there was no way out either.”

            Emma felt a flicker of curiosity. “What happened to them?”

            “They’re gone,” he said simply, the words heavy with finality. “Just like everyone else.”

             The room fell into silence, the kind that pressed down on them like the weight of unspoken truths. Emma could feel it—the slow unraveling of whatever resolve she had left. But instead of despair, there was something else there. Something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

            Hope.

            And maybe, just maybe, that was the most dangerous thing of all.