Stepping out of her car, Elly locked the door, and shoved her hands deep in the pockets of her oversized leather jacket. The weather had turned brisk, enough that her breath plumed up in little clouds as she made her way down the street, nervous energy propelling her forward.
It had been two months since Baron left Elly’s flat. Two months since they’d seen each other. They’d spoken regularly, though only because Baron insisted, but they hadn’t properly talked. Elly could just never seem to find the right words for everything that was going on in her head. Instead she fell back on assuring Baron that she was fine, even when they both knew it was a lie.
Elly’s physical wounds from her run in with the ghost healed fairly quickly. It was the emotional ones that lingered. Eventually she’d managed to talk to her therapist about it, blaming a fictional altercation with someone she was surveilling, rather than implicating Baron.
After weeks of work, things seemed to be getting better. The nightmares lessened, and Elly found ways to cope with the fear, to separate the thing that wore Baron’s face with the woman itself. She was finally starting to feel more like herself.
Now there was one last wound left to heal.
Walking up the path to the Lethbridge-Stewart’s elegant house, Elly could feel her heart hammering in her chest, palms clammy in her pockets. Her therapist had advised that she go into this with no expectations, reminded her that she could only control her own responses. At the end of the day, she didn’t know what Baron would have to say, if she would even want to see her.
After weeks apart, the only thing Elly knew for certain was that the first move needed to be hers.
Chewing nervously at her bottom lip, Elly rang the bell.
