Ghost of You

The pale light crept in through my curtains, showering my room with a spectacle of yellow light. I blinked, clearing my head of the fuzziness. I stretched out as my alarm signaled that it was eight o'clock in the morning. I sat up, letting my blonde dreadlocks fall out behind my shoulders. Groggily, I forced myself out of bed, shoving my gray-and-white bed covers off of my body as I pulled on some black baggy jeans and a plain white teeshirt.

I stumbled into the bathroom, switching on the faucet and splashing the cold water onto myself, letting it trickle slowly down my cheeks. It's been 6 years now. To be exact: 6 years, 3 months, and 2 hours. 6 years, 3 months, and 2 hours since my best friend, my other half, my twin, left me for good, and I knew it was all my fault. I gripped the edges of the sink, feeling my chest heave up and down as I gasped for air, squeezing my eyes shut tight. My eyes began to sting as my throat felt like it was closing, and fast. I switched the faucet on and splashed cold water onto my face again, getting my breathing under control again. This has been happening a lot lately. It seems every time I think about Bill, my eyes burn, my throat hurts, my breathing becomes shallow, my palms sweat, the works; I just can't help it. I peered up at myself in the mirror, watching as the sweat and water trailed down my cheeks from my forehead. I grabbed a towel and cleaned myself up a bit, staring at myself in the mirror one last time. When I felt fine again, I slowly made my way into the kitchen.

The house was quiet as I tiptoed through it, although I knew it was empty. Mom was at work, and her boyfriend, Gordon, was too. You see, my parents are divorced, and they have been since I was seven. Dad stopped coming around after Bill died; now he just visits on holidays and when Mom threatens to tell the judge that he refuses to take responsibility for me as well. After Bill died, Mom met this man, Gordon. He's in a band that plays around the local clubs, and Mom and him just clicked. I guess, after Bill died, she just got … lonely. I mean, don't get me wrong, Gordon is nice and all, and I love him a lot, but sometimes it's like he takes away all Mom's attention from me.

I sighed, filling a glass up with orange juice and turning around. There was a package sitting on the table, wrapped with blue wrapping paper and a large sparkling bow tied around the lid. A note was stuck to it. How had I not seen that before? I went over and peeled the note off of the box slowly, reading it silently in my mind:

Tomi,

Went to work, and then the grocery store afterwards. Be back soon. Gordon went to work, and he'll be home around six. Happy Birthday baby boy!

-Mom

I set my glass down on the table, carefully untying the bow and lifting up the box lid. I took orange paper out of the box and picked up the contents of the box slowly. It was a brown cap with Tomi written in white cursive on the side. On the inside were sewn the words: Happy 16th Tom. I dashed into the bathroom, pulling back my dreads and lowering the cap on my head, watching myself in the mirror as a grin spread wide across my face as I tried the cap on all different ways. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, I felt a chill creep up my spine, making cold sweat appear on my forehead. I spun around quickly and saw something black shatter across my vision, swooping in from around the small window and through the hall. I gasped suddenly, stumbling as a force of wind knocked me over into the hamper, towels spreading all over the floor. I hopped up suddenly and slammed the bathroom door, clicking the lock. I threw my back against the white door, focusing on the window. It was locked tightly. How could have that … what was that exactly? … gotten in?! I froze suddenly as I heard movement, and lowered my eyes to the golden handle of the door just below where my hand was. It was jiggling up and down, as if someone was on the other side of the door turning it. I let out a sudden scream and jumped away from the door, the elbow of my right arm slamming into the medicine cabinet.

“Ow!” I hissed, pulling my numb arm into my chest, which was heaving up and down. “G-go away!” I shouted at the door, picking up a roll of toilet paper and flinging it at the door.

And then I heard it. A voice. I didn't understand the words, heck, I didn't even know if they were speaking English!, but I heard a voice. I looked around the bathroom for something that could be used as a weapon. I fled to the closet and ripped out the pole on the wall that hung the bathrobes. I gasped for breath, my entire body shaking, blood trailing down from my elbow where I smacked it.

“G-go away!” I shouted again at the door, unsure if whatever it was was still there. “On the count of three,” I whispered to myself, “open the door, and slam down the pole with all your might.” I took a shaky breath. “One … two … THREE!”

I flung the door open and started to swing the pole around, gasping at what I saw. I dropped the pole to my side, and if my jaw could have dropped any lower, I'm sure China would've seen it. I saw a shimmering figure at the end of the hallway, standing quite still, almost like a sheet on a clothing line blowing lazily in the wind. And then I blinked, and it vanished. Except not the picture in my mind, burning through my brain. I don't think I could've gotten out of the house any quicker.