Ghost

None of the following details are important. The door was normal, red, wooden and locked. Nothing in that description was useful either. Especially not the lock.

Derek slept soundly, his parents were out of town, but he’d still chosen to go to bed at the decent our of two. A surprising choice for a boy of seventeen.

The night drifted through town quietly, the moon hung dimly in the dark sky. It silently watched the following events unfold. Three boys approached the locked red door. They were all large and muscular. Brutes, really.

The tallest reached out with a gloved hand, twisting the knob.
“Damn bugger locked the door,” He mumbled, letting his hand drop to his side.

“What’re we gonna do?” One of his cronies asked, glancing over his shoulder, making sure the street was still empty. “Tom?”

“You don’t think a bloody locked door is actually going to stop us do you?” He said, half to his friend, Rollo and half to the sleeping Derek. He walked around to a window on the side of the house. He looked around, picking up a large rock from the ground.

Without hesitation he hurled it into the window, the glass shattering loudly.

“Are you sure this is his house?” Rollo asked, once again looking around. Someone must have heard that, he thought.

“Shut it, Rollo,” Tom hissed, shoving away some of the extra glass. He climbed through the broken window. Rollo and Chris followed him obediently inside. They were about to search for Derek, but he stepped into the room.

“Hey fellas,” He said, raising an eyebrow, “You could have just knocked.”

“Shut it dickwad,” Tom growled.

“I’m the dickwad? You did break into my house…” Derek pointed out, shrugging innocently. Tom was not on planning on chatting with him. No, he had other plans for Derek.

Derek could tell what was coming next. The three boys walked menacingly forward, pulling on matching black ski masks. “Now, now, we don’t have to resort to anything violent-“
Tom slammed his fist into Dereks stomach. Derek hunched forward, cringing.

“Grab him. Don’t want to get any blood on the carpet.”
Chris and Rollo grabbed Derek’s shoulders, towing him to the front door. Tom unlocked it, heading outside.

The moon continued to watch, its heavenly position perfect for viewing the show.

Chris and Rollo shoved Derek to the ground. He landed on his knees, but managed to catch himself before his face hit the concrete. He glanced back at them.

“May I ask what this random beating is for?” Derek asked, standing. Tom nodded at him, and Chris and Rollo pulled his arms behind his back. He punched him in the gut again.

“I’ve seen you talking to Jessica lately.” He ended his sentence with another shot. Derek grunted, looking through his brown hair.

“I didn’t realize there were laws against that.”
Tom hit his stomach again, landing on a rib.

“She’s my girl friend, you got that?” Tom barked, grabbing the collar of Derek’s shirt.

“We’re just friends Tom,” He mumbled, his neck irritated by the sudden tightness of his collar.
The other two thugs released Derek’s arms as Tom swung his fist up, slamming it under his chin and sending him flying back. He hit the path, his head a few inches away from the curb. Derek rolled onto his side. “You’re nothing Anderson.”
Derek grinned weakly.

“I didn’t think you’d bother to pummel nothing,” He said. Tom kicked him in the stomach.

“You better shut that smart mouth of yours, before I kick it in.”
Derek sighed, rolling onto his back. He ached, a weary feeling draining him.

“Can you at least make this quick?” He asked quietly. It was a serious request, but he knew it was pointless. Tom put a foot on Derek’s stomach.

“No one would even notice if you were gone. Not even Jessica.”
Derek rolled his eyes.

“Jess and I are just-“
Tom put more pressure on his stomach.

“What’s it like to be invisible Anderson?”
Tom pulled him to his feet, only to punch him square in the eye. Derek spun, his face hitting the curb.
“You’re barely here. You’re like… like a ghost. People don’t even know you exist.”
Derek remained where he was, making no effort to move.

“Jess does,” He breathed, but Tom didn’t hear. Tom wrapped his large fingers in Derek’s shaggy hair. He pulled him so he was on his knees, held up only by his hair.

“What’s it feel like to be a ghost?” He hissed at Derek. He threw him forward, his injured body hitting the road. “What’s it feel like to be a ghost?!” He repeated.
Derek mumbled something incoherently.
“Louder now! What’s it feel like to be a ghost?!” Tom’s voice had taken on a maniacal tone. Derek replied again his voice muffled by the road. Tom planted a foot violently on his back. “Louder! What’s it feel like to be a ghost?!”

Derek slowly turned his head and through bloody teeth spat sarcastically, “Lovely.”