The Sixth Sense

Chapter 3

Titus' POV:

Blam…

The sound of the door slamming behind me resonates through the empty hallway as I step inside the house.

I know that sound well—it's my father’s way of expressing his displeasure. And given the recent chaos, I can only imagine he’s heard about the scandal.

People might think we have a great father-son relationship, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I despise him. My father uses violence as his primary tool for controlling me, demanding that I fit into the mold he has created. Every time he wants me to be his puppet, he resorts to intimidation.

Suppressing a sigh, I make my way to his office, my steps echoing with a mix of resignation and dread. I knock three times on the door, a routine drilled into me since childhood, before entering.

“Did you call for me, Father?” I ask, taking my place in the chair opposite his desk.

He slowly turns from the window, his gaze icy and penetrating. “Someone’s dead?” he begins, his tone blunt and devoid of greeting. “Were you involved in this? Did you have anything to do with it?”

I shake my head vigorously. “I never knew her! I don’t understand why people think I’m involved with her death.” My voice is earnest, but he raises an eyebrow, his skepticism palpable.

“I heard she left a letter with your name on it,” he states coldly. My frustration mounts. Of course he knows.

'Damn it!' I exclaimed in my head, my voice sharp with annoyance. “I don’t know why she mentioned me or why she killed herself. I had no idea she even existed until now!” My anger boils over as I think about how my father pushes me to be like him—stoic and unfeeling, despite his own flaws.

“Don’t shout at me!” he roars, his face reddening. Since I turned fourteen, he hasn’t dared lay a hand on me. He knows I’m stronger now, capable of standing up to him.

“You’re just like your mother,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Weak! Both of you are quick to hurt people’s feelings. I thought I raised you better. When I hear this…”

“ENOUGH!” I cut him off, my voice echoing with a force that surprises both of us.

He stares at me in shock, his eyes widening before anger replaces the surprise. “How dare you speak to me like that!”

“I dare, Father,” I retort, my frustration spilling out. “Why don’t you trust me? I didn’t know her, and I don’t know why she put my name in her letter or why she ended her life. I know what Mom did to you was wrong, but stop blaming me for it. Look at how you treated her! I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you wallowing in self-pity when we both know why she left!”

The room falls silent as we glare at each other, the air thick with tension.

Poor Titus…

What?

A voice echoes in my head, strange and disembodied.

A prince in school, but the truth is he is a loser…

Who’s talking?

“AAHHH…!!!” A sudden, searing pain erupts on my shoulder, causing me to scream. I’m overwhelmed, unable to discern if the pain is real or if I’m hearing my own screams or someone else’s.

I’m here, Titus…

What? Who’s there?

The pain intensifies, making it impossible to focus. I lose consciousness, the world around me fading into darkness. I’m not sure if it’s my own mind, my father’s anger, or the girl’s presence.

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Louisa POV :

A pair of hands help me to my feet, and I release a heavy breath.

Oh my God!!!

The scene I witnessed was a vivid memory—Titus’s memory.

“Why are you here?” I ask the guy, pulling away to put some distance between us. I sit in a chair far from him, my mind racing with the implications of what I’ve just seen.

Titus looks at me, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. He then grabs another chair and sits down, his posture reflecting a weary acceptance.

“I used to hide in here when I wanted to skip class,” Titus explains, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. I shift my gaze to the girl behind him, trying to understand why she is so attached to him. It’s evident that she’s not just lingering—she seems to be integrated into his very being.

“Not you,” I say, pointing at the girl with a nod of my head. Titus’s eyes widen in realization. “Her!” I clarify.

The ghostly girl gives me a wide smile. ‘Interesting… You can see me…’

I nod, noting Titus’s sad expression. It’s clear he can hear her too.

“Why are you here?” I ask the ghost, trying to understand her purpose.

She smiles warmly, yet her smile is tinged with a tragic sadness. ‘Because Titus and I belong together.’

Titus’s expression shifts to one of deep sorrow. I feel a pang of sympathy for him. From what I’ve seen, the girl believes they are connected, that he has feelings for her. But why does she think that?

“Can you help me?” Titus murmurs, his eyes locking onto mine. The desperation in his gaze is palpable.

Help?

How can I help him?

“I can sense them, but I don’t know how to help you,” I admit, confusion lacing my words. Titus’s expression darkens further.

“But you made them go away in the gym,” he says, his tone tinged with hope.

“What do you mean I made them go away?” I ask, bewildered. Titus shrugs.

“There were two of them beside you. Before you fainted, I saw them scream in pain and then disappear,” he explains. “That’s why I thought you could help me.”

I’m astonished. I’ve heard of people who could sense ghosts, but I’ve never heard of anyone making them disappear.

Is what he says true? Or is it just another facet of my emerging abilities?

The revelation stuns me. I need to understand more about these powers, if they are indeed real. If I can help Titus and understand the nature of this ghost, I need to explore further and confront the reality of my own abilities.

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