We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets

My muscles and joints ached from the hard, cold floorboards that I slept on that night. The sun had positioned itself in the most perfect place in the sky. It's light passed through my window and blinded my tired eyes. By the way it brightened my room and the land outside, I knew I had to be some hours late for school. My mom probably couldn't wake me up and gave up a while ago. I don't remember her ever coming in. I extended my arm to grab my book, but it wasn't there. Then I noticed that tucked in my left arm, was a teddy bear. It was raggedy, worn, dusty, and brown. One of it's button eyes were hanging from the threads while the other stayed intact. He was dressed in green, flannel shirt, no pants, and a round, plastic, gold colored collar that read Tate. My thumb brushed across the fancy, cursive letters as I smiled. Just as my eyes reached the e, Tate himself appeared in my room so quietly that I never noticed he was there. He was sitting on the floor a few feet away from me, dipping him index finger into the warm wax of my cream colored candle. My elbow and shoulder cracked as I slowly lifted myself up and rested on my forearm for a moment. I yawned and then peered back at him with tired, but curious eyes.

"When did you get here?" I muttered in a quiet voice. He placed the lid back on the cupcake scented candle, picked the wax off of his finger, and then crawled over to me.
"An hour ago," he said as he made his way over, "I sort of waited for you outside your house for you to come home, but you never did come, so I snuck in. I saw you just laying on the ground and I got scared, but I saw you breathing and watched you sleep instead,". He voice hinted that he was ashamed for what he did, but I didn't mind. He could sneak through my window any day. I realized that I didn't just skip school, I slept through it. It had to be about three or four in the afternoon and I was still in my clothes from last night. My hair felt tangled and knotty from restless sleep and constant turns. My joints continued to ache and pop as I moved; it didn't matter how slow I moved. Tate's glistening brown eyes met my icy blues for the hundredth time and a spark of energy vibrated through my body. I sat Indian style, my back against my bed, and Tate's bear in my hands.

"Where did you get this and why did you give it to me?" I asked as I ran my hands through it's fur and then held it to my chest. Tate smiled at my gesture before speaking.
"I found it in my house. Constance had it tucked away and since you might not see me every day, I wanted to give it to you. It's so you can think about me when you're sleeping or when you miss me," he replied, looking at his faded blue jeans and picking at a tiny hole that formed by his knee. I wanted to admit that he didn't have to do that because he was on my mind all day, but my lips wouldn't mutter the words. I would never allow myself to say something that early in a relationship.

"He's cute," I said. Tate moved closer so he could take his bear in his hands. He looked down at it and it's wounded eye nostalgically with a small smile.

"I got him when I was three. It was a birthday gift from my parents. I never had any friends as a kid so I kept him instead. I named him Edgar, after Edgar Allan Poe. He went with me every where. I brought him to day care, kindergarten, grade school, and I would've even took him to Middle school, but Constance took him away. She stuffed him in a box and hid him in the basement. After a few years of searching, I finally found him," he explained with his joyfully saddened eyes, "So now you can have him,". Having Edgar in my possession was bitter sweet. I would love to have Tate's bear in my arms while I drifted to sleep, but he loved that bear. He wanted to have Edgar with him every moment and I would hate myself if I took away his childhood friend.

I swallowed down my first batch for words so they wouldn't escape. I wanted to tell him to take Edgar back, but instead I said, "Thank you," very politely and lovingly. He handed the raggedy bear back to me and I took it without any hesitation. I held it close to my chest against, which caused Tate's eyes to light up with happiness. I also thanked him for taking me out last night. He leaned over and gingerly kissed me on the cheek, telling me that it was nothing. I glanced over at the chalkboard which held his giant heart. I felt stupid for over looking it the day he wrote in our names. I thought it was just a stupid form of affection and meant nothing, but it turns out that it was something. He took one of my hands into his and intertwined our fingers. I kissed his closed fingers with soft brushes of my lips and then adjusted myself so that his arm was around me. We sat like that for a minute or two; he used his free hand to unknot of my hair and fix it. But we instantly broke a part when we both heard sluggish but loud and heavy steps make their way to my door.

"Hide," I whispered sharply. In moments Tate found a hiding spot. He practically vanished from sight. I remained on the ground when my mom walked in. Her face was flushed of it's color, her eyes were red and puffy, and she had tissues stuffed into the sleeves of her dark green robe. Some sort of illness hit her like a brick wall and I felt sympatric automatically.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up, pumpkin," she forced through sniffles, "I feel like shit,". Her voice was quiet, harsh, and hoarse.
"You look like shit," I added with half hearted smile. My mother has always been a strong woman. Sickness hardly even effects her, but this flu or cold seemed to grip onto her tight. She could only nod and then shuffle her feet out of my room. I didn't blame her for keeping me from school. Was I suppose to care? School was horrible.

As soon as the door shut, Tate reappeared. He crawled out from under my bed, smiling like a little deviant. "That's the first time I've hid under a bed," he admitted as he slide out. He sat next to me, resting against the bed like I was, and holding my hand in his. The light from the sun crashed against his pale face and gave him a radiant glow. I never noticed that his skin was so pale before the light hit him. His skin was almost a powder white. His lips were a paler pink and the skin under his eyes were mixed with red irritation and purple bags from sleep deprivation. The touch of his hand on mine sent shivers down my spine, as always. I rested my head on his shoulders and closed my eyes. I couldn't fall asleep, but I could fall into a peaceful bliss. The noises from outside that burst through my window, quailed. My mother's coughing and sneezing disappeared. And the thumping of my heart was silenced. The sound my ears would let in were Tate's words. He didn't even say much besides that he thought I was beautiful and what he liked about. He admired my style, attitude, and the way I presented myself. He thought the most beautiful feature were my eyes, until he tasted my lips.

"They're soft like feathers," he said as he leaned in for a kiss. We parted while smiles and then he took my hand, jerking me up to my feet. He wasn't forceful or aggressive. He was excited and wanted to venture into my house. I didn't ask a question or even show a care. I giggled behind him as we tip-toed pass Mom's room. He lead me down the stairs, turned sharply around the railing, and then stood me in front of the basement door. My smile left my face and I glared at the spotless door with intense hatred. Something about the door pissed me off. Maybe it was because it wouldn't open for me, but by the touch of Tate's magical hand it opened. I turned my head to see Moira walking across the hall, feather duster in hand. She shot me a silent warning with her eyes. She told me to be careful as Tate and I stood our first steps down the stairs. Tate let me go first so he could close the door. My heart raced a bit as I took each step. I was afraid here. This part of the house was unknown to me.

It was unusually dark down here. A ray of sunlight tried to wrestle it's way through a dust and cobweb covered window, but it fell short. It hardly light the huge room with it's light. I reached for the light switch but Tate took my hand before I could touch them.

"Keep the lights off," he said quietly in my hear. His breath ran down my neck, causing my body to shiver and air to escape my lungs as I struggled to find my footing. He guided me down the last five steps and then twirled me around when my feet touched the floor. His lips touched mine softly and then he trailed off to my cheek and neck. Soon his lips were quickly bouncing off of my shoulders and his hands were around my waist. My body was pressed against his but it wasn't uncomfortable. They fit together perfectly. We swayed back and forth, dancing to no music but the sound of Tate's lips parting from my skin. He kissed me on my lips one more. It lasted longer than the first and he put a bit more force into it. I returned it with a deep kiss of my own. We just stood there, lips locked together, and arms around each other. The sound of our lips parting echoed in the basement and made me giggle. I left loud and obnoxious.

"We could've made out in my room," I commented between kisses and giggles. Tate pulled himself away from my mouth for a moment and looked at me.
"We aren't here to make out," he said. He disappeared under the stairs for a second and then came back with a funny looking board. He flipped it over so I could see all of the letters, numbers, and odd pictures that were on it. It didn't take long to realize that it was a Ouija board. The weird face in the middle of the board, scary, bold letters, and occult styled pictures that surrounded the board gave it away. In one hand, Tate held a dark colored, wooden planchette used to move around the board. "Do you want to talk to some spirits?" he asked as he waved it around. At first I was hesitant and a little scared, but I trusted Tate so I nodded. We sat down on the cold, gray, concrete floor with the Ouija board between us. Tate placed the planchette in the middle and instructed me to put my hands on it after he already did. I followed his orders as my hands shook. The only other time I ever tried to tamper with the occult was an odd phase I went through when I was thirteen and I attempted to contact a demon. Nothing happened, of course. The room didn't grow cold and no monster formed in my mirror, so I was unconvinced that those things could really work, but I believed in ghosts. The murders and suicides that happened in this house gave a suspicion that this was a bad idea, but once again I trusted Tate. He looked up at me with an excited smile and then the real games began.