We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets

Normality. So many people try and strain away from it, whatever it represents. That tiny light at the end of the tunnel that means conformity and apparently strips you of all creativity.
Kids dye their hair flamboyant colors, shove needles into their faces and etch their skin in ink. I can't even lie and say in my teenage years I didn't try to rebel. I was guilty of dying my hair, piercing my ears, and stretching them. But I did something strange to rebel from society. I decided to date a boy who had been for eight teen years. There's no recovering from that.
As strange as I was, and I knew that I was, I couldn't help but feel normal on my birthday. Brittany, Tate, and I all sat on the gazebo, talking, laughing, and discussing things. Tate and Brittany had normal conversations about school life, home life, and me. All I could do was stare in amazement. This was the one moment that I actually felt like a normal seventeen year old girl. I liked it. I didn't mind at all.
The sun was bright, cheery, and all around warming my day. The birds sang their songs and I didn't care. Spring was in the air and I could sense the change. School was going to be easier, my parents and I were going to get along, and maybe I would make a new friend. Someone who wasn't a ghost, lingering in my home.
Maybe I would cut my hair and start wearing make up? Stop wearing strictly black and perhaps throw in some color? Maybe I would be more active and start running through the neighborhood, get into shape?
As much as I tried to think like a normal teenager, my mind would continue to revert back into it's usual ways. I would try and think of walking around, hand-in-hand, with Tate, but my brain would remind me that could never happen. I wasn't a normal teenager. For one thing, I lived in one of the most haunted houses in America, maybe even the world. I lived with an array of characters. All of them dead.

Brittany and Tate talked for the most part. Brittany interrogated the boy for a couple of minutes. She asked him every question in the book. Did he have a criminal record? Did he finish school? How did we meet? How many girls had he been with? What did he do for fun? Was he a raging drug addict?
Tate answered them as normally as he could, but I knew the truth. Yes, he had a criminal record. He shot up his school. He never had the chance to finish high school, for obvious reason. We met at my house, he kept stalking me. He's only been with one girl (that question he answered honestly). What did he do for fun? Sulked around my house, covered in bullet holes, terrorizing other spirits, and occasionally making out with his live girlfriend. I wasn't sure if he ever did drugs. I didn't want to ask, but his answer was no.
He dazzled my friend with his handsome smile and shaggy, blonde hair. She found nothing wrong him. In fact, she kept going on and on about how cute we were together.

"If you two ever visit me in Tennessee you should double date with me and my boyfriend!" she suggested cheerfully. In the back of my head I laughed because it would never happen.
Tate couldn't leave my house, let alone the state. But they continued to bond over obvious lies. I just sat in silence for the most part. My normality soon vanished. Especially when I looked up at my house and saw a face in the window. I didn't know what spirit it was, I really didn't care. Just the fact that my home was haunted and the ghosts were constantly reminding me pissed me off.
I held Tate's hand and laid my head on his shoulder. I was too tired to hold it up any longer.

"Are you okay?" he asked sweetly. I tried to nod but it turned into me just nuzzling into his neck.

"You're not allowed to sleep!" Brittany exclaimed before playfully smacking me on my shoulder.

"She's not sleeping. She's just tired," Tate said. He ran his fingers through my hair and painlessly fixed any knots he found. It was soothing, but I was so drained from nothing that I didn't even have enough energy to close my eyes. "Do you want to go lay down?" he asked. Once again, I tried to nod and it became nuzzling, but he knew what I meant.
They both lifted themselves up, along with me, and guided me back into the house. I was almost happy since I got to lay on the couch while they watched T.V., but once I closed my eyes my mom came running in.
She had a purple birthday cake in her hand, illuminated with seventeen candles, and she was singing Happy Birthday. Tate, Brittany, and my father soon joined in. I wanted to scream, but that would be impolite and I couldn't be bothered. So, instead I endured it, made a fake wish, and blew out all of the candles. There were no presents to open, unfortunately, but that was okay. I knew I wasn't going to get much for my birthday anyway. Brittany was enough.
Everyone ate cake in the living room, besides me. It looked amazing, but I couldn't stomach anything that sweet right now. Maybe after I took a nap, but who would allow that?
My mom was booming with questions since a new face was in the room. That new face being Tate.

"Who is this?" she asked, almost rudely.

"Tate, Mom, Constance's son. He lives next door," I lied routinely. Since living here I've gotten better at lying to my parents.

"When did you two meet?" she continued.

"A while ago, Mom," I replied. The irritation in my voice was growing more obvious, but my mom was blind.

"How did you two meet?" she asked. "Where did you two meet?" soon followed. "Does he go to your school?" she proceeded, asking about nine more questions after that. Soon, Tate took over and answered them for me, knowing my brain couldn't take it anymore.
I felt so bad. I was being so rude to everybody. I was in such a bad mood and I had no idea why. My birthday was great. My best friend was sitting next to me with my loving boyfriend, and my parents were sitting together, actually getting along with everyone. For some reason I was just refusing to accept this gift.
I tried to excuse myself to go into my room and sleep, but that last thing I wanted was to run into a ghost. There was no way in Hell my mind could handle it. I'm pretty sure I would overflow.

It was a while before my parents left. My eyes were closed, but I knew by the way their voices disappeared. The only two left were Tate and Brittany, but I didn't want them to leave. I didn't want to be alone in this house. A visit from Violet or Hayden or even Chad would send me into a spiral of insanity. I don't think they got the message, though.
Half asleep. picturing a dream I wanted to have in my head, Tate leaned over and whispered to me, "Brittany and I are going to go into the kitchen and fix something to eat. We'll let you sleep,".
I instantly grabbed his arm, tightening my fingers around his skin.

"Don't leave me alone in here," I whispered.
I didn't notice it before, but I knew what was draining me. I just didn't acknowledge it, like an idiot.
A hundred pairs of eyes had entered the room long ago. They were looking at me. The birthday girl. They were draining me of my energy because they could. These malevolent spirits would've killed me by now, perhaps if Tate wasn't in love with me. I knew they feared him.
Either way, I felt them there in the room. The air was heavy, like smog, only invisible. It was if there was a dark humidity around us but I was the only one feeling it. I felt this before. Every night, almost. Even with my eyes closed I saw all of the ghosts. The twins, Violet, Patrick, Chad, Hayden, the old nurses, the doctor, his wife, and countless others that I've caught glimpses of. They were all there, wishing me a terrible birthday.
Tate stayed, thankfully. He knew they were there, being one of them, he had to be able to see them by default. Brittany left. Made herself a sandwich, or whatever. All I cared about was Tate staying there, gently holding my hand and making sure I was safe, and sane. Somehow it was as if I was loosing a grip on reality. But this was reality. Ghosts were real. They haunt me every day. It wasn't like I was delusional and watching the walls melt into a sea of screaming eyeballs.

I was restless though I found sleep. I woke up some odd hours later in my bed, Brittany flipping through my old year book from our old school.

"Finally, you're awake," she said, throwing the book on the shelf. "It's been like six hours! As cool as Tate is, it's hard to talk to a guy you don't know for hours,".

"I'm sorry," I replied, "Did he leave?".

She nodded and said, "Yeah, about an hour ago. But he wanted me to tell you that he loves you, happy birthday, and that he'll see you later,".
I couldn't help but smile. That was the most normal thing that he's done. He could have just lingered around, but instead he pretended to leave. How nice of him.

"He's not going to sneak in here later while I'm asleep and have birthday sex with you, right?" Brittany asked, disgusted at the thought.

"No, I would've warned you," I told her.

"Good, because I would have to beat you up," she said playfully.
She hoped into bed with me and stared at the ceiling. "I like him, by the way. He seems like a good guy for you," she smiled.

"Thanks. I really like him," I replied. We began discussing dumb things about Tate. Brittany mostly wanted to know if we had "done it" yet. Of course, my answer was no. I was strangely hesitant on having sex with a dead boy. I didn't know if it would work or not.

"Do you want to?" she decided to ask after a few moments are awkward silence.
I looked at her confused. I wasn't confused because of her question. I was confused about my answer. I didn't just want to come out and say yes, but I did.

"I do, but it's weird," I ended up saying. Then she looked at me confused.

"How is it weird? He's gorgeous," she said.

"He is. He's amazing in every way, but we've never actually gotten that far. Even in discussing it," I answered.
Brittany knew me and how I was with guys. I wasn't very cautious when it came to sex. I had standards, rules, and limitations, but I was never scared. With Tate I was.
"It's not a sexual relationship, I guess," I said.

"So...there's no sexual attraction?" she asked in a weird way. She said it so calmly. All these questions were very calm. Usually Brittany was weird and awkward when it came to sex. She didn't like discussing it. Ever.

"I think there is, we just haven't embraced it yet. We've kind of ignored it," I replied. The talk ended there, thankfully. I felt myself beginning to blush. Then I felt Brittany roll over and move the covers over herself.

"Night then, Anna," she said.

I didn't even notice how dark it was in my room. The lights were off, the moon was out, and it was probably time to go to bed. I didn't realize that Brittany was using her phone as a light when she looked through the yearbook. How oblivious was I?
My mind was so clouded in useless worries that I couldn't be bothered to look right in front of my face.

"Night, Brittany," I said back to her, but she was already snoring.

I was there, awake. The first half of the night I didn't sleep. I just thought to myself. I mostly of Tate and what Brittany and I had just talked about. How do you have those kinds of relations with a ghost? I felt dirty thinking about it so I quickly tuned it out of my mind.
It was then that I realized, I was a normal teenager, for the most part. This is what normal girls think about it. Despite all of the small details, this was normal. This was as normal as my life would get.