Everything's An Illusion

By the time we left Evie's house it was close to midnight and both Deeana and I were exhausted. We still had school tomorrow, but I was thinking about asking my mom if I could skip. It was the beginning of June and school was winding down anyways, we weren't really doing anything important. I didn't think anyone would miss me much if I skipped just one day.

The fog had cleared up thankfully, making the drive back to Deeana's house less stressful than the one to Evie's house. Deeana had fallen asleep during the short, five minute ride so I had to shake her awake. We said our quick goodbyes, both wanting to just get to bed more than anything, and I left as soon as she had left my car. I had a hard time focusing on driving on the way back to my house, and that scared me. Driving under normal circumstances made me nervous, but I knew driving while tired was almost as bad as driving drunk and that made my nerves twice as bad as usual. When I finally got home all the lights were off and the front door was locked. I hadn't expected my parents to wait up for me, but it did annoy me a bit that they weren't even worried about me at all.

I let myself in as quietly as I could, and hurried up the stairs to my room. I stopped in the hallway at my parents' closed bedroom door, pressing my ear against it to see if they really were asleep. I could hear them snoring from inside, indicating that they were indeed asleep and indeed very unconcerned about my whereabouts. I rolled my eyes and headed to my bedroom as quickly as I could. The moment I had closed my door I felt a chill creep up over my body.

"I guess they don't really care about you." a voice said from behind me.

I squeaked. The voices were back. I turned around to turn my light on, that always seemed to help whenever the voices were around, but then froze. It wasn't simply a voice this time.

The voice had a body.

I opened my mouth to scream for my parents, but the boy lunged forward.

"Don't you even fucking think about it," he snarled.

He had a hand over my mouth, the other holding both my wrists so I couldn't hit him. My eyes were wide with fright, frantically looking around my room for anything that I could use against him. I tried to kick him in an attempt to get away, but to my utter horror my foot went right through him. I screamed from behind his hand and started crying hysterically.

"Emma," he growled. "Shut up and stop fighting me."

I closed my eyes, silently praying to whatever God there may be out there that I was dreaming. That this was all a figment of my imagination and I would wake up crying but very much alright. I shook my head violently, trying desperately to scream for my mom from behind his hand. The boy snarled something under his breath and suddenly released my wrists only to move his hand to my throat. Seemingly effortlessly, he lifted me up a few inches off the floor and pinned me against the wall with one hand, the other still covering my mouth.

"Do you know who I am?" he demanded.

I shook my head, still crying. I couldn't breathe, his hand was constricting my throat painfully; I was starting to feel lightheaded.

"If I said my name was Dustin, would that ring any bells?" he snarled angrily.

I stopped crying for a moment, my eyes widening. It couldn't have been, could it? Could Evie really have seen Dustin at her house, and now here he was at mine? He moved his hand away from my mouth, but still held the other firmly around my throat.

"I-It can't be." I struggled to say.

He laughed, cold and hard. It sent chills up my spine and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Yes, it fucking can be. And it is." he said.

"But, y-you're d-d-dead." I stumbled over the words, shaking at the thought.

He laughed again. But this time it wasn't just a chuckle, and it wasn't as cold as before. He was genuinely laughing at me.

"Very good," he said. "Not as stupid as you look, kid."

It hit me then. I was in my room being strangled by a ghost. I opened my mouth to scream once more but I couldn't find the breath. All that came out was a strangled, pathetic whimper. Dustin laughed again.

"I don't un-understand." I whispered.

"Yes you do," Dustin chastised me. "You know what's going on. You just won't admit it."

I shook my head vehemently. This was all just a dream; a nightmare. I would wake up in the morning still quite shaken but otherwise fine. It was not possible for Dustin to be standing in my room. He was dead, and the dead don't do that.

"Stop it." he snapped suddenly. "Stop tyring to convince yourself this isn't real. We both know it is."

He shoved his face into mine. I was scared. But I knew that he was here. I didn't know why, but I couldn't deny it. I could feel his touch on my skin, even if I couldn't touch him back. He was undeniably here. How? I didn't know. Why? I didn't know that either.

"Wh-why me?" I choked out.

His hand was still tight on my throat, I couldn't breathe. His eyes were angry, staring deep into my own, silently accusing me of something but of what I did not know. I tried to grab at his hands to pull them away from me, but all I could touch was my own trembling skin.

"Because you're the only one that can see me," he snarled. "I need someone who knows I'm here."

"But - but your grandmother..."

He laughed, a cold barking laugh. "She doesn't believe that I'm here. Anybody can see me, but not everybody actually believes what they see."

"Please," I whimpered. "I can't breathe."

He paused for a moment, just staring into my eyes, before he slowly allowed me to slide back down the wall so my feet touched the ground. He didn't actually let go of my neck, but he loosened his grip considerably. I gasped for air, wheezing a bit.

"I need your help, Emma." he said, his voice soft for the first time.

I looked up at him curiously.

"With what?" I asked.

"Emma?" my mother's voice called from outside my room. "Honey, is that you?"

Suddenly Dustin let go of me, and stepped back into the shadows.

"She can't see me," he said, his tone warning. "Mention this and she'll just think you're insane."

I stared at him, not sure whether or not to believe him.

"And anyways, mention me and I could kill you." he added casually.

I paled considerably at his words. He sat down on my desk chair in the corner of my room as I went to open my door and meet my mother. I silently prayed that she hadn't heard me saying anything, because I didn't know what to tell her if she asked.