Ghost of You

“Hey,” someone whispered as I felt the side of my bed press down. It was Gordon. He leaned down and ruffled my dreadlocks, rubbing my back gently.

I sat up, wiping the dark tear stains from my cheeks. The rain was padding lightly on the roof of the house. Gordon's eyes went wide as he gently grabbed the elbow I had smacked on the cabinet this morning, rubbing it gently. I pulled it back with a yelp of pain.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

I glared at him, turning to lay back down and pull my pillows into my chest. “Nothing,” I said through a hiccup.

He sighed, picking himself up from the bed. “I'm going to get a bandage for your arm. I'll be right back.”

I curled my body into my pillows, my eyes blurry and droopy. Gordon came back into the room and sat down on the bed, forcing me to sit up again as he took my arm into his hand. He snapped open the cap of a cream and squeezed some onto his fingers, gently rubbing it over my elbow. It was cold and made my wound sting. I gasped in pain.

“Ow!” I snapped at him and he pulled his fingers away and began to tightly wrap a bandage around my elbow.

He let go and looked at me, his face soft. “I had a talk with your mother,” he began, turning to face me fully as he screwed the cap back onto the bottle. I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest as he reached up and stroked the scratch on my cheek. I slapped his hand away and stood up, my fists clenched at my sides.

“Listen Gordon, you need to leave,” I stated harshly. “My day's been nothing but a piece of crap, and you're not helping.”

Gordon narrowed his eyes as he stood from the bed, turning to leave in defeat. “Dinner is in an hour,” he said from my door, shutting it as he left.

“I'm not hungry,” I snapped at him, although he probably didn't hear me. I rubbed the bandage at my arm and flopped down on my bed, leaning back against the wall and closing my eyes.



The darkness swirled around me, making me feel dizzy and sickening me to my stomach, knocking the oxygen from my lungs. My hands were trembling violently as I saw him splayed across the ground, dripping red. His clothes were soaking wet and clinging to his body; his eyes were closed; his lips were pressed into a tight line; his legs were bent at an odd angle. I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. I dropped to my knees, large sobs forming in the back of my throat. I struggled to keep myself from crying, wanting to flee from this darkened abyss, but it was no use. I pressed my hand down onto the floor, trying to keep myself steady. I felt something liquid seep through between my fingers, and I picked my hand up. It was too dark to see anything, but when I brought my hand to my nose and took a small sniff, I knew instantly what it was : blood. It was encircling me, illuminating the body that seemed to snake away with every breath I took. I threw my hands around my throat, my windpipe feeling as if it was crushing with every sharp intake of air I drew. I felt the blood smearing onto my body from my hands, as my eyes began to roll into the back of my head ...



I sat up quickly, gasping for air, my entire body jerking as my lungs began to crush. I bolted from my odd position on my bed and into the bathroom, leaning over the toilet. I don't recall having anything but that orange juice today, but whatever I did, or in this case didn't, eat, came up quickly. I flushed the toilet and stood on my shaky legs, switching on the faucet and brushing my teeth slowly. I heard a chair screech in the kitchen as the sweat lingered on my forehead. Gordon appeared at the doorway, followed by Mom, both peaking in at me, eyebrows raised and both wearing looks of concern.

“I'm fine,” I gasped, pushing by them and back into my bedroom. I sat down slowly on my bed, Mom and Gordon following me.

Mom sat on the bed next to me and placed her hand over my forehead. I closed my eyes as I felt the cool skin of her palm. She frowned at me, then turned to Gordon. “Go get the thermometer from the first aid kit, please,” she told him, turning back to me. Gordon nodded and then disappeared, reappearing with the first aid kit in his hand. He placed it on my bedside table and opened it up for Mom, then disappeared again, as she reached inside and drew back the thermometer.

“Keep this under your tongue,” she demanded, gently placing the thermometer inside my open mouth.

Mom rubbed my arm gently as the thermometer began to beep loudly. Mom took it from my mouth and frowned at it. “It says your temperature is fine,” she muttered. She gently pushed me back into my pillows, picking up my covers and folding them tightly around my body.

Gordon came back with a small trashcan, placing it next to the head of my bed. “Just in case,” he whispered, kissing my forehead. He reached up and switched on my bedside lamp, walking to the door and switching out my top light.

Mom tucked me in a little tighter, kissing my cheek and whispering goodnight into my ear before following Gordon out of the room. I breathed in gently, trying to let myself calm back down. And then I heard it : a muffled movement in my closet. I stared at the open closet door, trying to tell myself something had probably fallen, and that I needed to just close my eyes and get some sleep. I was never good at trying to un-convince myself of something, though, so I gently peeled off my covers and stood myself upright, my stomach flipping, as I slowly made my way to my closet. I peered down inside at the floor and gasped at what I saw.