The Ghost of You

“Linda!” Donna Way shouted across the front lawn, running over to hug Michaela’s mother. Michaela just rolled her eyes; she was such a loud bitch. Her greeting was more than unnecessary, considering Linda and Donna had worked together for twelve years.

“Donna, how have you been?” Linda replied, full of what seemed to be happiness. At this point, Michaela strutted into the house, her edgy attitude following her through the doorframe. Gerard waved to her for a brief amount of time, but she overlooked him ignoring his attempt to be friendly. She’d apologize later, but as of now, Michaela only wanted to be alone. Was that so bad?

Upon entering the house, Michaela was greeted to a grand corridor with stairs leading to the second floor. Eager to claim her room for the summer, seeing as she always got the most incommodious living space, she rushed up the stairs, placing her luggage at the foot of the bed of the largest bedroom. Locating a pen and a sticky note, she attached a note that read ‘Michaela’s room; go find your own.’ She smiled at herself, finally getting the room she’d wanted for years. When she was satisfied with her arrival, she moved into the bathroom, wanting to bathe after the long drive to the vacation home.

Turning on the faucet, Michaela tested the water, immediately pulling her hand back.

“Fuck!” she screamed to herself. The water was piping hot. After trying to adjust the temperature for what seemed to be twenty minutes at the least, Michaela convinced herself that there was no use.

“I’ll have to talk to dad about the water pressure,” she muttered under her breath, starting her shower and stepping in, deciding not to wade in the sweltering water for reasons of comfort and luxury.

Michaela fought the urge for as long as she could. She honestly did, but she couldn’t help herself. She grabbed her trusty razor from outside of the tub and placed it on her wrist. Slowly and gently, she pressed the blades into her skin, tearing her porcelain white skin and revealing a ruby red liquid. A moment after she laid her eyes on her own blood, her vision went black, dropping the razor, and leaving her physically (but not mentally) present in the shower.

~~~

His hazel eyes glistened, a single tear falling from each eye, leading to a river of tears down his face.

“I hate my life!” he shrieked, his voice full of pain and longing. Longing for love, longing for affection… But mostly longing for death.

His razorblade was tied around his neck with a limp grey string, risking his death at any given moment. It was as if he was asking to die. He untied the blade quickly and with desperation, almost immediately resting it on his wrist.

But he didn’t drag the blade across his pale skin. Not before another boy his age entered the room.

“Frank, have you seen my—“ the boy stopped what he was saying immediately, staring at his tiny friend laying limp on the floor with a razor to his wrist. “Frank, you have to stop right now! Do you hear me?” he nearly whispered; his voice had gone with shock, and he was trying his best to be comforting to the boy.

“I can’t stop, Gerard,” Frank replied defiantly, tears continuously rolling down his cheeks, “I just can’t.” It was then that he collapsed into a heap on the floor, rolling into fetal position and rocking back and forth.

Gerard rushed over to his best friend, rubbing his back soothingly. “It’s okay. It’s all okay…” he cooed, trying desperately to get Frank to calm down.

“No!” he shouted almost as if on cue. “It’s not all okay. Gerard, my mom hates me! My own mother hates me!” His voice cracked with the intensity of his screams.

“She doesn’t hate you, Frank. Don’t be ridiculous,” Gerard reasoned. But it was to no avail. Frank pulled up the back of his shirt, revealing multiple bruises and several serious puncture wounds. After Gerard soaked all of that in, Frank bowed his head, facing the top of it to Gerard. He moved his long, greasy hair to reveal a wound where stitches used to be. Gerard kissed it gently, hoping to calm his friend down.

“She does hate me,” he repeated, almost to himself, “I know she does.”

Silent tears fell from Frank’s face as Gerard pulled him into a hug. They stayed there for hours, Gerard just letting Frank cry into the nape of his neck, rubbing his back comfortingly.

Frank pulled himself back, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I love you, Gerard,” he said, nothing but sincerity in his voice, “I really do. And you need to know that.”

Gerard smiled. “I love you, too, Frank. I love you so much.”

And with that, Frank’s lips were pressed against Gerard’s, his lip ring gliding against his friend’s bottom lip, causing him to moan slightly. Frank moaned back, Gerard’s tongue sliding across his lower lip, beckoning for entry. He opened his mouth, allowing their tongues to explore. A few seconds later, there was a loud knock on the door. The two friends instantly pulled away. They had not intended for it to happen, but they had just kissed. And they had to be fools if they were going to believe they didn’t enjoy themselves while doing so.

Michaela giggled in her crib, looking at the two boys happily. They both smiled back, and then faced each other, staring into each other’s eyes. But Gerard’s eyes drifted down to Frank’s wrist, which he had suddenly remembered was being pressured by a razorblade. Frank’s eyes followed his. He looked surprised at first, as if he hadn’t remembered the blade was there in the first place, and then smiled, placing it down gently at his side. Gerard’s fond smile returned as he kissed his best friend’s forehead.

“Frank? Can I come in?” his mother’s voice called. He gripped Gerard’s arm protectively, his fingers digging into his skin.

“Don’t be scared,” Gerard whispered, connecting his lips with Frank’s once more. It was a brief kiss, but Frank savored every moment of it. The door opened suddenly, and Frank immediately ripped his body from Gerard’s. He never let go of his hand, however, and gripped it tight enough to stop his blood flow.

“Hey, Mom,” Frank squeaked weakly, “We just came in to check on Michaela.”

“I know what you two were doing, Frank,” his mother stated bluntly, causing the young boy to look up with interest, “and I’m very disappointed in you.” A frown appeared on Frank’s face as he let go of Gerard’s hand, which now lay limp at his side.

“I don’t want you making any contact that isn’t casual for the rest of this trip.” Both boys gasped in protest, but Linda wasn’t hearing it. “Do you two hear me? No contact.”

Frank gulped, and then nodded. “I promise, Mom.”

That same sinister smile spread across her ruby red lips. “You’ve done something good for once, Frank.”

Frank smiled at his mother weakly, glancing over at Gerard, who was obviously growing angrier with each word that escaped his mother’s lips. She left the room, leaving the two boys alone once again.

“Your mother is the biggest bitch,” Gerard whispered, just in case she was in ear shot.

Frank nodded. “I’m going to be in so much pain later…” he trailed off, trying not to think of what his mother would do to him now. “I just know it.”

“Hey,” Gerard beckoned, smiling slightly, “don’t think that way. Maybe if we stop talking like she wants us to, she won’t hurt you. At least not tonight.”

Frank smiled back, pecking Gerard’s lips gently. “Maybe,” he replied, “but I’d rather be with you than have her stop hurting me. I love you, Gerard. I can’t live without you. Not even for a second.”

Frank snuggled closer into Gerard, and he wrapped his arms around his small frame. “I love you, too, Frank. But I can’t risk you being hurt.”

Frank narrowed his eyes and walked out of the room, leaving Gerard speechless.

~~~

Michaela’s vision came back little by little. She could see where she was, but the boy’s glistening hazel eyes stood in her way of noticing every little detail of her surroundings. A laugh echoed through her ears, and she froze. She remembered that laugh. It belonged to a person she once knew. A friend? No; she had heard it too much for it to belong to a friend. A brother… Her brother. Frank was her brother, and he was dead.

With that thought, she felt pressure on her shoulder. She turned around, staring at her shoulder and expecting it to be nothing. But it wasn’t nothing; Michaela saw a hand. A human hand! Across the fingers, the word ‘Halloween’ was tattooed. She ran her fingers over the tattoos, her memory entering her once again. This was her brother’s hand.

“F-F-Frank?” she stuttered, shocked at his appearance.

“Your memory is much better than I expected it to be, Mickey,” Frank chuckled, his voice more airy and casual than she remembered it.

Mickey. He was the only one who called her that. Her memory came back in pools, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was missing something.

“It… It can’t be,” she muttered to herself, “You’re dead. How?”

Frank just giggled. “Ever heard of ghosts? Spirits? Hauntings?”

Michaela froze.

“Am I ringing any bells?”

“Well, yes. Yes, you are. But… why haven’t you left yet? Aren’t you supposed to leave eventually?” she replied.

“Well… yeah. Eventually… But it’s been eight fucking years! I’m obviously not leaving the Earth yet, so I figured I’d protect you from our lovely mother,” he said, full of sarcasm.

“I… I know what she did to you, Frank…” Michaela trailed off, reliving the moments she had not intended on ever witnessing.

“You do?” Frank said, hopefulness in his voice.

“Well, of course. She… she hit you,” Michaela stated, still shocked by her brother’s ghostly appearance, “She really hurt you, didn’t she?”

A single tear fell from Frank’s eye, as a single drop of blood fell from his head, all disappearing from his face. “More than you know, Mickey… More than you know.”

“I’m so sor—“

“Michaela, who are you talking to, sweetie?” her mother called from outside of the door.

“Shit,” Frank muttered, clasping onto his younger sister’s hand but disappearing visually. His nervous grip on her hand let her know that she was still there.

“Um… No one, Mom,” Michaela shouted to her mother, “I’m just practicing my apology to Gerard.”

Frank’s grip tightened at the mention of him.

“What do you need to apologize to him for, honey?”

“I, uh… I sort of didn’t acknowledge him very much when I entered the house. He waved, and, um… I pretty much flat-out ignored him.” Michaela replied, grateful that she actually felt the need to apologize to someone.

“Oh, okay, Mickey,” she said then caught herself, “I mean… Michaela.”

Frank hissed.

“Just hurry up, okay?”

“Alright.” She agreed. The sound of her mother’s footsteps walking downstairs caused Frank to appear to her again.

“I want her dead,” he stated blatantly, nearly emotionless, “I want her dead like I am.” He became almost transparent at that moment; his eyes a glowing green and blood erupting from his wrists, as if his mother’s life on Earth was the equivalent to pouring salt on an open wound.

“Calm down, Frank,” Michaela whispered, trying not to attract anyone else’s attention. “I have to go now, okay? Well, I can’t talk is what I mean. You can come with me if you want to. But…”

“I know. And I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll hold your hand every step of the way, okay?” Frank said, sounding grateful for his sudden company.

Michaela smiled when Frank smiled at her, nodding. “Okay.”