A Ghostly Romance

I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling. I always had trouble going to sleep, ever since I was a little kid. I've always been terrified of the dark. Not being able to see my surroundings always frightened me, kind of like when I take off my glasses too. I never liked feeling vulnerable. I sighed, and turned to my side, trying to get more comfortable. I could hear my parents snoring across the hall.

Michael didn't stay very long after I had dinner. He said I looked tired and should get some rest. Little did he know, not having the answers to my questions made me more restless than ever.

I reached next to my bed and grabbed my glasses off the dresser. Maybe if I could see a little clearer I'd be able to calm myself down enough to get some sleep. I slipped them on, and was able to make out the shadows more clearly. My restless mind, however, kept buzzing with all of the events that happened earlier.

My only real friend died five years ago. Sounds strange, doesn't it? What's even stranger is the fact that I can still talk to him. I sighed and sat up in my bed, with my arms leaning on my propped-up knees. My mind wandered to the conversation during dinner. My dad's friend, Bill, asked if it would be alright if his son could stay over for a few weeks. I haven't seen Bill's son, Richard, in years, but from what I remembered, he was a bit of a freak. I told my dad I didn't mind, though. It wouldn't make that big of a deal.

I laid back down and stared at the ceiling again, when I heard a man's voice coming from the hall.

"Come on. I need some money."

"I told you, dad. I'm not giving you anything."

"If you don't give me money, Frank is going to kill me."

I gasped quietly. Am I hearing the same conversation again? I looked at my clock. The bright, neon green squared numbers blinked 12:53.

"You owe Frank again? Damn it, dad! I thought you've learned already," Michael said.

Why is this happening again? I quietly got out of my bed, and crawled to my door, trying to keep hidden.

"This is the last time, I swear," Michael's dad said, sounding desperate.

"That's what you said the last ten times. I'm tired of taking care of you. Get out."

"Michael, you don't seem to understand. This is serious. Do you want me to get killed?"

Just like the first time, there was a brief silence and Michael said, quietly, "Get out, now."

"Michael, don't make me do this." Michael's dad's heavy breathing seemed to fill the hall.

"Do you really think that's going to solve anything?" Michael said, his voice sounding a little shaky.

My breath quickened. This is the exact same thing that happened before. I felt a sudden hatred for Michael's father, especially for what he was about to do. I peered past my door frame and saw Michael's dad. He hadn't shaved in for what seemed like for ever. His clothes were dirty and in rags, his face crazy with desperation.

"Give me the money. Now!" His father shouted.

I winced and looked at Michael at the end of the hall. He was standing his ground, not moving a single muscle, while staring at his dad. Wait...he wasn't staring at his dad. I followed his eyes and stifled a gasp. His dad was holding the gun.

"So you can buy more drugs and owe Frank more money? I don't think so."

"You know I don't like playing around, Michael," his dad said. He cocked the gun, and aimed it right at Michael's heart.

Michael's hands went up in a way that said "take it easy." He began backing up, towards the stairs. "I know you wouldn't shoot me."

His voice was losing its confidence. An emotion that wasn't in his eyes before told me he knew exactly what was going to happen. He was scared.

"Oh, really? I don't care what happens to you. I want that money now."

"You'll have to kill me first." Michael's voice was clear, and firm, even though his eyes told a different story.

I looked at his dad, tears filling my eyes. Here I was, watching the first guy I've ever loved die.

"Don't do it," I begged, quietly. "Please."

His dad raised the gun and whispered, so quietly I didn't hear it the first time, "Goodbye, son."

I quickly looked away, into my room, the green light from my clock blinking 12:55, when I heard the loud BANG! I sobbed quietly as I looked up, my vision slightly blurred from my tears. Michael put his hand over his heart, before he slumped to the floor, knocking over a lamp. I glanced at his dad, as the gun fell from his hand. The look on his face spoke for itself: What have I just done?

Within seconds his face went completely blank as he jumped over Michael's body and ran downstairs, probably looking for the money. I quickly ran to Michael and tried holding him. I couldn't feel him at all. My hand went right through him, although I could tell I was going through something. The air was thicker where Michael's body was. Tears streamed down my face as Michael started fading, until he disappeared all together. I looked down the hall where the gun had fallen to find it gone too.

I got off the floor and went back to my bed, under the covers, trying to hide my cries. I don't know how long I stayed under my covers before I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. Crap, I thought. I really didn't want to explain anything to my mom right now. I used my oversized t-shirt to wipe my face and slowly lowered the blanket.

"What do you want?" I asked, quietly. If I spoke any louder, I was afraid my voice would break.

"Are you okay?" A voice too deep to be my mom's whispered.

I wiped my eyes and smiled when I saw Michael leaning beside my bed.

"I will be," I whispered, sitting up in my bed.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said, running his hand through his hair. "I thought-"

I jumped out of my bed to hug him, only to fall to the floor with a thump.

Michael laughed softly before helping me up. "You should have warned me."

"Can I hug you now?" I asked. I was so happy to see him that it didn't bother me that I just fell to the floor in failed attempt to touch him.

"Yes," he said quietly.

I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, him doing the same with my waist. I never knew a simple hug could relieve so much pressure off of me. Then again, I never thought I would actually witness him getting shot. I held him close to me for a few brief seconds, before he gently pushed me away.

Tears began filling my eyes again, and I noticed the worried look on his face. This time I was crying because I was happy. It felt like being reunited with a loved one that you haven't seen in a while. I looked down, going over my thoughts. Did I just say I loved him?

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"It's nothing," I said, sniffing. "I'm just happy that you're not-"

"I can't die again, Dani," he said with a reassuring smile. He used his hand to wipe away my tears. I shivered at his touch. "Always remember that."

"Will it happen again?" I asked softly, feeling anxious again.

He sighed. "I'm afraid so."

I looked down, playing with the end of my blanket with my hands. I knew I wanted to ask why it was happening, but right now I was happy to see him again.

"Go to sleep, okay? I'll see you tomorrow," Michael said, getting off his knees.

"Wait!" I whispered loudly. "Can you stay?"

Michael smiled as he leaned by my bed again. I took off my glasses, and laid on my side facing Michael. His face was blurred, but I still didn't turn away. His was the last face I wanted to see before I went to sleep.

"Good night," Michael whispered, gently stroking my hair.

I breathed in deeply, feeling a lot more relaxed with him next to me. "Good night."