AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She left me alone a lot when she worked, and that’s when I saw my first ghost. She was a kind, elderly woman who fussed over me and made sure I stayed out of trouble. I was only five at the time and assumed she was my babysitter. When I asked my mom about her, though, she thought I had an imaginary friend.
As I got older, though, more and more people appeared. There was always a carousel of kind adults watching me and keeping me safe while my mother was gone. It wasn’t until I was eight and my mother slapped me for making up stories that I realized she didn’t see them. She didn’t know they were there.
The older I got, the more unstable my mother became, thinking she could leave me to fend for myself while she got high with her friends or found a new man to fuck. Sometimes she would leave me for days at a time, and it was the ghosts who would wake me up for school and help me get ready.
Many of them hated my mother, haunting her when she was home. I was young enough to think it was funny, but now I realize they were being cruel. They’d mess with her lights, waking her up at all hours of the night until she had a bit of a psychotic break. I was thirteen then, and she was institutionalized, leaving me on my own.
But there were the ghosts, caring for me and helping me steal and find shelter all on my own. They protected me until I was old enough to protect myself, and led me to Pocus when I was sixteen.
But I can’t tell Juliana any of this. She wouldn’t believe me, even though she’s already drunk off her ass. I remember how Abigail responded to learning about ghosts, and I won’t tell this woman, who’s basically a stranger, that I was raised by dead people.
So I tell her the truncated version, that I was abandoned for most of my childhood, homeless by thirteen, and in a gang by sixteen. This is a less shocking story, though not by much. She looks at me with wide, tearful eyes and whispers her apologies.
“What kind of mother would do that?” she asks. “I hate her!”
I shrug and smile because I don’t care about my mother enough to hate her anymore. She’s worse than a ghost to me now. I’m not even sure that she’s alive.
“You didn’t deserve that, Hex,” she says sincerely. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You’re a sweet man, and you should have grown up knowing you were loved and cared for.”
Her words get to me in an unexpected way, and I feel warmth spreading through my chest. No one has ever shared such a kind sentiment with me before, and I’m overwhelmed by her kindness. For the first time in my life, I believe I deserved more. I still deserve more.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Idon’t miss the way Hex floats down the stairs looking almost dreamy. He’s been in a good mood the last few days, and I can’t deny that I resent him for it. What the fuck does he have to be so cheerful about? Everything in the world is going to shit.
He’s supposed to be out looking for the poltergeist and bringing it back here so Mama and Tory can exorcise it. I can’t bring my family home until the bastard is gone. This fucking poltergeist is at the very top of my shit list.
“What are you so happy about?” I grumble at him from the bar. “Did some poor woman crawl into bed with you?”
He gives me the finger and tells me to fuck off, but I can tell by his glance a woman is involved. Seriously?
“Please tell me you aren’t getting pussy while the rest of us are worried about our fucking children.”
“You’re the only one with a child,” he points out. “And I’m not getting pussy, you ass. I did meet someone, but it’s not a big deal.”
“It is a fucking big deal,” I growl, throwing a glass in his direction. He easily catches it and brings it back to the bar. “I’m not paying you to gallivant around town with some whore. I need you to be focused on finding the poltergeist.”
“I am,” he growls, his own anger rising. I feel it growing between us, and my inner demon is screaming, clawing at me to be released. No one else is around. No one would know if I beat the shit out of him for the hell of it.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says, reading my expression. “You haven’t had any outbursts since Daisy was born. Don’t start now.”
“Then help me bring my fucking family home!” I yell, loud enough that I’m sure others in the house have heard me. So much for beating him up.
He sighs heavily and sits down a few barstools away from me. He’s smart enough to stay out of hitting distance.
“I promise she’s not interfering with my search. I know you’re stressed, but you have to trust me. You owe me that much.”
The logical side of my brain knows he’s right, but I don’t want to listen to logic. I want to let my anger consume me in a way I haven’t been able to in over a year. With Abigail and Daisy gone, it might be time for me to tear up my room for old time’s sake.
“Then why haven’t you found anything?” I ask lowly, clutching a bottle of whiskey in my hand so hard that the neck breaks.
“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again,” he answers, annoyed. “The ghosts are withholding. They’re more terrified of the poltergeist than we are, and they don’t believe we have any power to help them. Maybe they’re right, but I swear I’m doing everything I can to try.”
Snake walks into the bar with his laptop in hand, but stops short, assessing the distance between us. He senses my mood too, and he’s seen what happens when I get into a state. They all have. I take a deep breath and count to ten, knowing this is no time or place to release my frustration.
“Everything okay, Prez?” he asks warily, and Hex throws his hands up in annoyance. “If it’s a bad time, I can come back,” he says hesitantly.
“There’s never going to be a good time, Snake. What is it?”
