We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets

I laid on my back, starring at the posters on my ceiling for hours. My cheek stung from the sharp smack that Hayden gave me early that night and I knew it had to be red. Next time I saw her I would kick her stupid ass, but I wasn't about to search for a spirit at three in the morning. It would be too hard to explain. I wandered in my head for about half an hour, trying to figure out what to do, but my body was numb. I didn't feel like moving. I simply watched the inanimate pictures on my ceiling, until something caused me to jolt up out of my bed. There was a tapping at my window. Small pebbles being tossed at the glass. I tried to force myself up, but the dark corner of my room scared me. It was covered in shadows. Anything could pop out and grab me if they wanted to. It sent chills down my spine, vibrating and shaking my entire body. I threw my blanket over my head, reminding me of my childhood. I would throw the covers over my head to keep the monsters away. I knew it didn't work, but I had no other defense. I laid under my blankets as the tapping got louder. It began to echo in my brain. Tap. Tap. Tap. And then there were giggles and chuckles from the children throwing the stones. I knew what ghosts were doing this. The two little boys who died in the basement. More fear infected my body. Ghost children were one of my biggest phobias. Their faces were probably bloody and cut from their mortal wounds. They were now eternally disfigured from whatever death was rested upon them.
My words were now swollen in my throat. I was unable to speak. I couldn't tell myself that everything would be okay. I wasn't physically hurt, but my mentally and sanity was quickly dwindling. The darkness only enhanced the fear. I prayed for the sun to rise more quickly. I wanted that refreshing warm light to intrude on the darkness, defeating it in another battle. Would their war ever end? Or does the sun rise only to be won over by the night? As does the moon simply show it's faces to be killed by the day? I wanted the sun. I wanted the light and all of it's brightness. I didn't care if it hurt my eyes or gave me a headache. I didn't care if it brought school. I wanted this night to be over. Then a voice whispered in my ear. It was a soft, sweet voice that reminded me of a comforting time.

"Tell them to go away," it said. I swear I felt a kiss on the nape of my neck. I gave it away to fear and sleep deprivation. My throat was still blocked by all of my phobias but I managed to mutter, "Go away," in a horsed, scared voice. I continued to whisper it until my voice found it's way out of my vocal cores. Soon the tapping dulled and disappeared, but by then I fell asleep.

The sun awoke me three hours later. The light poked through my blanket that I was still under and stabbed my eyes. I turned over, wrapped in my cocoon, and attempted to fall back to sleep, but my mom came tapping on my door.

"Wake up, Sweetie!" she called from behind it, "Moira made you toast,". she opened the door and turned on my light, filling it with all of it's brightness. I didn't mind. This was the light that I was begging for all last night and it had came, three hours too late. I wish she would've flicked them off. It wasn't because I wanted to sleep though. I was made at the light for not coming to my rescue, but honestly? I pushed that night in the back of my mind, causing myself to believe that it was only a horrible dream. Somehow I did it and I was able to carry on with my day.
I got dress in the bathroom to save some time, brushing my teeth and putting on a pair of tight, gray skinny jeans. It was difficult at first, but I was able to maneuver my body to do it. Then I straightened my hair while I threw on a 'Nightmare on Elm Street' t-shirt with Freddie on the front. I had no make-up to put on so that saved about twenty minutes, but I still had to deal with my hair. Certain strands didn't want to fall in their right places, forcing me to comb my hair about three time. When I was done there were strands stuck in the sink. I tried cleaning it, but I couldn't get them all. So while I was washing my face, combing my hair, and pulling hair off of my shirt, I left the warm water running. It filled the bathroom with a thin cloud of steam, but I didn't mind. It warmed the room up a bit. But it fogged up the mirror. I had to wipe it off every thirty seconds. The last time I did, it revealed something horrible. A blonde haired girl, covered in blood appeared in the reflection. She stood behind me for a few seconds and then disappeared in a flash. I turned around and she was gone. God! I wanted to scream.
I quickly turned off the water, wiping my face with a clean towel, and then threw it in the tub out of anger.

"Hey!" a girl said as the towel hit the white tub. I turned and saw the girl from the reflection laying there. The towel hit her. The only thing I could focus on was the blood. She was covered in it. Her forearms had giant, vertical gashes that extended from her elbow to her wrists. Her dress was stained all over along with her face, legs, socks, cardigan, and a few patches of hair were stuck together with the sticky, red substance.
My throat swelled with my words again, unable to speak. I just starred at her with a confused and terrified face.

"Is it the blood? Your asshole boyfriend did this to me you know," she said very bluntly. It almost made me angry, but I knew her wounds were self inflicted. "Indirectly, of course," she added, tracing a gash with the tip of her finger. "It stings like Hell. You know when you get salt in a cut? Or lemon? Times that by like...a hundred. You know when they say that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem? They mean it. It's true. Don't ever kill yourself. You'll end up in this hellhole forever with a bunch of spirits,"

"Yeah, that one chick told me," I replied, unaware of what to say.

"Moira?" she questioned.

"No. The other one. The bitch who gave me this," I said, pointing to the red mark on my cheek. The girl nodded and smiled weakly, understanding what I meant.

"That bitch is Hayden. Stay away from her. She's crazy. Keep her away from Tate, too. She'll try and fuck him. She'll fuck anything. She was such a whore when she was alive. She still is. It's super pathetic," she said, going on and on about all the guys that the girl slept with. "She fucked my dad. Which is why I'm here, but that's a long, boring story,"

"Why are you here then? I need to get to school. I'm sorry, but I really don't have time to listen to another ghost go on about horrible this house is," I said trying to sound as kind as possible.

"Fine," she snarled and then disappeared. I took a deep breath. The steam still lingered around me, but I fanned it away in anger and left the bathroom. I ran out of that house, following behind my mother, and hopped into the car. Faces of spirits appeared in the house windows as we drove away. They watched me as we left.