Ghost of You

The dinner table was quiet as the five of us sat round it silently. I kept my eyes lowered to my plate, afraid to look up at Mr. and Mrs. Listing, who sat across from me.

Mr. Listing hadn't told her yet, but I knew he would.

My head was throbbing. I just wanted to clear it. I wanted answers to the many questions pulsing in my head like tiny heartbeats. Heartbeats that I wanted to die out.

Where's Mom? Is she okay? What happened on the day she ran away? Does she still love me?

Where's Gordon? Is he dead? Is he in jail? What other horrible things has he done? Did he rape someone else? Hurt another woman and her child?

Where's Bill? Where are the voices coming from? Where's the Carnie? What's going on with the heart? When is Gustav coming back? Will he hate me, too?

Another question was burning deep in my heart. One I questioned myself with all the time, but one that scared me senseless.

After all this, what would happen to me?



I let my dreadlocks hide my face. Sarah had been ordered to go upstairs and get ready for bed, leaving me and just the three Listings as the table. It had remained quiet all throughout dinner, and even now, as I sat hoping maybe Mr. Listing would change his mind and not say anything.

That didn't happen.

“So, would someone care to tell me what's happening, or are we just going to sit here and waste more time?” Mrs. Listing asked.

Mr. Listing cleared his throat. “Tom... took Georg's iPod Touch without asking, and...”

“Took it?! He stole it and broke it!” Georg exclaimed.

Mr. Listing sighed and pulled the evidence from his pocket. The crack in the screen smiled menacingly at me. I felt my palms get sweaty, my stomach churning.

Mrs. Listing's stare was worse than Bill's scream. “Tom?”

I was shaking. I knew I was, I could feel it. I was paralyzed though. I didn't know what to do. Telling the truth was out of the question.

“And he lied!” Georg cried out, nodding his head furiously. “To you, Dad. About borrowing it last night when he couldn't sleep. I had it last night, and this morning, which means he took it in the afternoon.” Georg turned and grinned at me, his smile deadly.

Shit.

“Tom, an explanation is in order, now. I want to the whole truth, from start to finish, and don't you dare lie to me,” Mrs. Listing snapped, her voice venomous.

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I needed something. Not an entire lie, but not the truth. I sighed and slumped my shoulders.

“I took it when I came inside to put on some dry clothes. I was just gonna borrow it, honest,” I said softly, “and I put it on my bed, and after I changed, I went to pick it back up, but I couldn't find it. I looked,” I said, my throat suddenly hoarse, “but still couldn't find it, and I was too afraid to tell when I went back outside.”

“Tom...” Mr. Listing began.

I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You don't believe me,” I spat, but not as a question. His face was soft, but Mrs. Listing's was stern as she glared at me. Georg's face showed pleasure, obviously at my expense.

Mr. Listing sighed. “I want to, Tom, I really do, but you keep changing everything around.”

“And you look guilty as ever,” Georg commented. He turned red when his father began to glare at him.

“Tom, please,” Mr. Listing said, exasperated, “just tell us the truth. All of it. We'll try not to get mad. How can we ever trust you if you don't tell the truth?”

“You don't know anything!” I spat, my chair scooting back as I stood up defensively. “You don't know anything at all! You were outside, for crying out loud! And I'm pretty sure you can't see through walls, or read minds, or anything like that!”

I could feel my cheeks burning with anger. Mr. Listing looked at his hands that were folded on the table. Georg had his chin resting in his palm, looking around at the kitchen walls. Mrs. Listing glared at me, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. My chest rose up and down quickly, my fingers trembling. My stomach hurt like I was going to be sick, my eyes clouding up like I was going to cry.

“You're grounded, Tom,” Mrs. Listing said, her dark eyes glued to me. “No video games, no television, nothing. Touch anything electronic and I will cut your fingers off. That iPod was almost 400 dollars, you understand that, don't you, Tom?”

“Well I'm sorry I don't understand the ways of the rich,” I hissed, the tears welling up in my eyes. “Maybe... maybe I shouldn't have even come here,” I sniffled, my head throbbing once again, “maybe I should've just stayed with Gordon. I honestly don't know what's worse: his raping me, or living here with you!” I cried, taking off for the stairs.

“Tom!” Mr. Listing called after me.

“SCREW YOU!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, slamming the door to my bedroom.