Keep the Closet Door Closed

"Okay, I assume that most of the other air head girls in this place are ditsy enough to fall for that but I'm not an idiot. Leave!" I cried, gesturing towards the door. The boy didn't move. "I can't. " he pressed. "I really can't. You don't understand- this room has been my jail cell for years. I don't even know how long it has been since I've been able to speak to anyone-"

I have a low tolerance of people and there is only so much I can take. I began to fume as this arrogant fool continued to feed me some ridiculous story about how he hung himself here. Some girlfriend was involved. He has been trapped here. Blah blah blah. "If you are a ghost, you won't be able to feel this, then, will you?" I hissed and swung my fist towards him.

The result terrified me more than the initial shock of finding a liar in my closet. Only, he may not be a liar. I pulled my hand back in pain after it collided with the brick wall in the back of the closet. The boy was perfectly fine- scratchless, in fact. "Now, do you believe me?" he taunted. Holding my bleeding fist in my other hand, I asked, "What did you say happened to you?"

He walked right through me to the other side of the room. "My girlfriend dumped me and I made the mistake of killing myself in her room. Ever since that night, I've been stuck in here. It was nice at first because I could watch her sleep. I would just sit and watch her read those girly magazines or brush her hair-" he began. "Oh, will you just get on with it?" I urged, frustrated. It wasn't necessarily him that I was mad at. My fist was aching, I hadn't slept for days and, to be honest, I hate people that are in "love." Its ridiculous to me how they can feel so strongly about someone who will potentially hurt you. In this case, the boy was hurt by the girl he loves and, yet he still loves her. Its stupid.

"Well, she left after her last year here. She moved to California to be a model or something. Then, I was forced to stay in here alone because no one would take the room after my death. Crystal was forced to keep it and she didn't mind. She didn't love me. After she left, the only other person who would take the room was a girl so obsessed with her God that she knew he'd protect her from me. Naturally, I tortured her until she left. I like people but she wasn't interesting. All she did was memorize her bible and bless the room. Then, you came along." he explained.

I rolled my eyes. "Because it would make sense that I'd get the room with the ghost in it." I groaned and collapsed onto the bed. "They didn't tell you?" he asked. I shook my head. "Of course not. One important thing to know is that the world would explode if I was ever informed of anything. I have to be in the dark about important things or the universe is out of whack." I replied, sourly. Must I be tortured constantly? Ever since the day I was born, I was cursed with disobedience and a family that demanded perfection. Obviously, the two didn't add up and I was in trouble more than half of my life. I thought this place would be my escape. Silly me.

"Pessimist." the boy said.
"Dead." I shot back.
"Emo."
"Ghost."
"Go cry in a corner."
"Go die. Oh, you already did."
"Cheap shot."
"Coming from the dead guy who called me 'emo' after hanging himself?"
"At least I had the guts to kill myself."
"I swear, I'll get an exorcism."

And he was silent. This is so not good.