Sunday morning, Luke woke with a start. He had enjoyed four days of relative quiet. The ghosts that hovered close to him had been gone. He didn't see movenment out the corner of his eye, he didn't sense them. He missed Nellie, of course, but he knew she was still with him. She was his twin, his other half. She would always be with him, part of him, half of his soul. Dead didn't mean gone, and Nellie would never be gone.
He sat up in his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, the air sucked out of his lungs. There in the doorway, he saw Nellie, seemingly as solid and real as if she were standing there in the flesh. "GO!" she told him, as she often did, the image of her representing some deep seeded understanding that he needed to move from where he was.
Luke freed his legs from the twist of the sheets, and stumbled over to Theo's room. "Theo? Theo, are you awake?" he knocked on his sister's door. it wasn't closed, she had agreed to keep it open a crack so she'd hear him if he needed her in the middle of the night. That didn't mean he would barge in on her. He needed her, sure, but he wasn't running from the ghosts. He didn't run away from Nellie when she came to him.
"Nellie's back," he told her through the door. He was pretty sure that would get her up and moving. Nellie told him to 'go'. Now he just had to figure out where he was supposed to go.