I frown at her retreating form as she makes her way back to the car, presumably to get her purse.She can’t know,I assure myself.No one knows. Must have imagined it.
Blood roars in my ears and tremors quake through me when I approach the bottom of the stairs on the other side of the living room. They’re narrow, with a wall to one side and a railing on the other. They look nothing like the posh carpeted ones in my father’s house, but panic continues to crawl up my throat.
“Really, Callie?” I growl, anger a comfortable replacement for fear. “All the shit you’ve lived through, and you’re going to lose it over stairs?”
I puff out two rapid breaths then charge the stairs like they’re the beach at Normandy, my boots pounding angry thuds against the hardwood steps. I’m breathless when I reach the top, and I speed walk down the hall, skipping looking at the bathroom, to get further away from the stairs.
There are three doors at the end of the hallway. I open the one on the left, flip the switch that turns on the overhead light, and find an average sized room with a queen bed, desk, stand up dresser, bedside table, and a glass door, framed in the same cedar wood as the house, that leads out onto a balcony. The walls are white, but I finally found carpet. It’s light beige and looks to be soft and plush.
I unload my duffels and backpack on top of the bed, then head out onto the balcony. There’s a small metal table to one side surrounded by chairs. It looks like it might be a nice place to read a book and drink a cup of coffee. To think these things makes me feel like I’ve walked into an alternate reality.This can’t be real. Any moment I’ll wake up still tied to that damn table.
I blame the shiver on the cold, wet air that cuts right through my hoodie and chills the skin underneath. It’s dusk, and the unending trees lose their vibrancy in the waning light, becoming grey ominous shapes in the purple-blue sky.
Looking down over the balcony railing, I notice a large patch of burnt grass that’s partially grown over. Apparently, the people that lived here before were geniuses.Nothing says good idea like making an unprotected fire in the middle of the forest.My teeth chatter, and I decide to head back inside.Everything is so freaking damp how they got anything to burn is beyond me.
The room may be furnished, but that’s it. No pictures on the walls. No knick-knacks on the dresser. There’s a lamp on the desk and another on the bedside table, but nothing else. It’s a blank slate, but I don’t have anything to fill it. I brought nothing from my old life outside of clothes, laptop, and school supplies. Even the fantasy novel in my backpack was purchased at the airport. I wanted nothing from that house. I would’ve burnt it to the ground if I thought I could get away with it. Instead, it sits empty and closed up, ready for the bastard’s return.
As I unpack my duffel into the chest of drawers, I wonder if I’m capable of living a normal life. Outside of healing powers that make me a candidate for the X-men, even the everyday stuff about me is a conversation non-starter. My life has consisted of so much pain and pretense for the past three and half years that I can’t help but wonder if a normal girl exists in me.
Do I want friends? It’d be nice not to be so alone, but what the hell do I tell them about me? Anything pop culture related for the past two years is completely lost on me. I don’t have hobbies or talents; at least nothing I’ve examined too closely since before high school. I like school, though that’s not a popular opinion among other teenagers, and I can’t really tell anyone why I like it.It’s my escape from the torture chamber that’s my house… or was my house.
There’s not a whole lot of my old life I can share. Do I tell people how my father is in prison for the next five years for stalking and the attempted abduction of a woman who holds a striking resemblance to my mother?Fucking bastard.
A red haze washes over me, and it takes all I have not to kick my heavy black boots through the very nice windows.
“He’s gone; that’s all that matters,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Capone was caught on tax evasion. All that matters is the bastard is behind bars. He can’t hurt you. You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
I concentrate on relaxing all my muscles, forcing my hands to unclench. After many deep breaths, I finish unpacking and throw my duffle bags onto the top shelf of the closet.
Kicking off my boots, I throw my backpack onto the floor and belly flop onto the dark blue comforter covering the bed. I twist my head to the side and look out the windows to the pitch black darkness outside.
“First purchase is definitely going to be curtains,” I groan, already anticipating the morning sun that will murder my eyes tomorrow.
Exhaustion tugs at my eyelids. I blink a few times trying to fight the pull, before deciding to rest my eyes for just a moment. Within minutes, I’m asleep.
∞∞∞
“Sweet, a hot girl moved into my room,” a male voice with a warm timbre exclaims, shocking me awake. “Now I know how the three bears felt. Don’t care how the story goes, though. There’s no way I’m baby bear.”
I sit bolt upright, blinking away my nightmare. Sweat clings to my skin despite the cold, and I take a few heavy breaths. It’s a moment before I see my new room instead of my father’s torturous basement. Damn stairs.I look for the origin of the voice and find a boy about my age standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed.
“Who the fuck are you?” I screech.
The boy winces. “I know I can’t feel real pain anymore, but holy crap, that was loud. I’m pretty sure dogs three counties over are howling in agony.” He wiggles his finger in his ear, then freezes, looking up at me sharply. “Wait, you can see me?”
“Yes, I can fucking see you. You’re standing in the middle of my room!”
I slide off the bed and slowly try to back away towards the door. The carpet is indeed plush under my feet.My first night and I have crazy people sneaking into my room. Just what I needed.There’s a voice in the back of my head calmly pointing out I should probably be frightened, but all I can seem to manage is annoyed, and relieved to be awake. The past few years with my father has really screwed with my fight or flight instincts.
“You don’t understand,” the boy says, bouncing on his toes with excitement. “No one outside of my friends should be able to see me.”
“Why? Have an invisibility cloak tucked away somewhere?” I snort.Yes, Callie. Antagonize the crazy person.
“No. I’m dead,” he replies with a grin then swipes his hand through the desk.
Crap. I take it back!I squeeze my eyes shut and pray under my breath, “Please, let this be a dream. Please, let this be a dream. Please, let this be a dream.” I crack open one eye, and the boy is now standing two feet away.
“Nope. Not a dream,” he states, his hazel eyes alight with mischief. “A ghost.”
