Login with:

Facebook

Twitter

Tumblr

Google

Yahoo

Aol.

Mibba

Your info will not be visible on the site. After logging in for the first time you'll be able to choose your display name.

Andy

Truth.

“Are you saying that Ashley is reponsible for all of this?”

His voice is bland and unbelieving. His arms are crossed again, and he doesn’t look too amused.

“I never noticed it sooner! He’s convieniently always there when...” I look at his eyes, tired and narrowed, and it takes the vinegar out of my explanation. “You don’t believe me... Do you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, he just shifts from foot to foot, his bright blue gaze falling away from mine to his feet, and he freezes up like a statue of marble.

“You don’t.” I sigh, feeling my heart swell with so many emotions I can’t process him.

“I thought... We were together on this? You... I... We-”

I have to stop, it feels like my heart is being squeezed in a vice, and my lungs have suddenly absorbed all the air in the immediate vicinity. It hurts. It hurts a lot.

“We’re not.” I finalize with a heaved breath. It almost gets caught in my throat.

“Ash,” he sighs and I already know what it means. He’s about to sit me down like a child and lecture me about the various reasons he doesn’t believe my theory, but he’ll neglect the main one; I’ve known Ashley longer than you. I trust him more that you. The two weeks you’ve sunk into my bullcrap means nothing to me and I don’t really care what you’ve given up to be near me.

“Right.” I cut him off, “of course. He’s your best friend. Of course you’d take his side before you’ve even heard mine. That’s typical of you.”

I walk away before the tears can start flowing, and they do as soon as I blink. Tears are weakness, tears show how much somebody cares, and right now I want nothing more than to not care at all.

I jog home, and burst through the door with my chest heaving and my emotions a mess. I stand there, leaning against the front door with my chest rising and falling when I hear a light thump upstairs and tilt my head back to narrow my eyes up at the ceiling, where my room would be. My parents aren’t home, which means one thing.

I waste no time barrelling up the stairs, down the hall to my room, flinging open the door in an instant, to find it empty. I narrow my eyes, and wait a few moment before turning away, and briskly walking towards the room that Ashley has called his own. I throw open his door, and there he sits, on the edge of the bed, his expression peaceful as though he’s been there a long time.

“You’re full of excuses, explain this,” I hold up my arm, revealing the finger prints embedded in my skin like the telltale signs of a demonic curse.

“The hell are you on about?” he sighs, resuming his predictable, bored Ashley attitude.

“I do not think we’re on the same plain field anymore, do you? You’re hiding something.”

“And what would that be?”

“What?”

“NOW! DO IT NOW!” I shriek at him angrilly, grabbing the red leather bound bible off the bookshelf near the door, chucking it at his head, he narrowly dodges it, and it hits the wall behind him with a thud, leaving a slight dent in the sheetrock.

He looks worried, struggling to mask his concern. “Why? No.”

I grit my teeth, “I’m looking for something. Prove to me you are who you say you are.”

“I’m Ashley! Who else would I be?

“Prove to me that’s who you are before I throw every goddamned book in this room at you.” I threaten, ripping another novel free of the white bookshelf behind the door, preparing to throw it at him, aiming for his big, dumb face.

“What the fuck are you talking about?! You’re damn crazy, you know that? It’s a wonder Andy even wants to be around you you crazy bitch, always making up accusations to fit the damn fantasy world in your head.”

I narrow my eyes at him and wind my arm back.

“No!” He jumps up, shielding his face as he advances towards me, reaching for the book.

“Leave me alone!” I yell, pitching the old copy of The Wizard of Oz into his face, causing him to wail in pain, crouching over, gripping his nose. Instead of blood, a clear liquid that looks like water runs between his fingers.

“Tell me now before I take this to Andy.”

“What’s Andy gonna do?” he laughs, his voice garbled with all the ‘ghost blood’ running down between his teeth. “He’ll just side with me, he always does.”

“He’s stood up for me an awful lot.” I remind him coldly, blocking out my memory of our last encounter. “Keep that in mind next time you think your friendship is eternal unity.”

I grit my teeth, infuriated by my fallout with Andy, and now with him. Then something happens that ruins the process of my interrogation. The front door downstairs opens and closes, followed by the cheerful voice of my mother calling out for me.

“Ash, honey, are you home?”

“Sounds like she needs you.” Ashley says with cold eyes, straightening his back to tower over me like a bear, his eyes menacing. They’re normally brown, but now they just look black.

“This isn’t over,” I promise him with a low tone, before swiftly exiting the room, and going downstairs, yanking his door shut in a fluid motion as if it would truly contain him.

I jog down the steps and wander into the kitchen, finding it empty. Confused, I wander down the hall, checking the living room and study as I go, before I wander into her sewing room. Also empty, of course. She never came upstairs, where did she go?

I frown and fold my arms tightly across when I realize what’s happened. Gritting my teeth, I grumble angrilly under my breath, climbing up the stairs to my room to work on my new dosage of homework.

I turn on my music and sit by the window where it’s illuminated enough to comfortably work. I begin to work on math, and I do for about fifteen minutes before there’s a hesitant knock on my door.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s me.” Andy sighs, followed by a light thud, which I assume is him pounding his head against the door.

“Go away.” I mumble, concentrating on my work. My mind congratulates me on my decision to keep working, by my heart is pressing itself against my ribcage, wanting to go to him.

“Ash, at least let me explain myself.”

“What is there to explain?” I murmur, “You took his side before even hearing mine. Dammit, Andy, you’re so thick-skulled that your long time relationship with him has blinded you to reality. He’s up to something, I know it. I just wish you would see it, too, or at least open your eyes and be a little more open minded instead of simply cutting me off when what I’m saying is no longer in your best interest. I’m sorry if I offended you, but honestly, you had no right to be offended.”

“Can I come in?” He asks, disregarding everything I have just told him. I grumble in irritation and think about it. “No.” I reply, “why don’t you go talk to Ashley and scheme with him?”

Silence follows, and when it has stretched beyond two minutes, I know he has gone, and I sigh sadly, angered at myself for my conflicting emotions. I have no right to feel sad about what I said to him when he’s wasted no time making me feel like crap.

My handwriting becomes a messy scrawl as I stress my way through my assignments, trying to get them out of the way, yet I want them to last because it’s the only thing distracting me.

After a while, I run out of things to do and am forced to get up and busy myself with something else, otherwise, my mind will run wild and I fear that I will never catch it again if that happens.

I walk over to my desk and hesitate, looking down at the hefty, 50 page essay sitting front and center, right where I’d left it over a week and a half ago. The title, cute and adoring, read My Adventures with my Ghost Friend.

I smile sadly and read the first couple sentences, feeling the nostalgic spark in my chest, reminding me of how that first week felt. It felt like pure magic and fantasy, all rolled up into one. We did stuff no normal person every would have attempted to do (or gotten away with) and it made me so happy. I guess looking back on it, my downfall was when he decided to be cruel and hide for a week while I went through the terrible grieving process, just so he could prove a point to himself that staying would be ‘worth it.’

I frown, and thumb through more of the pages, realizing it ends right about the time his funeral happens. I can’t leave this unfinished... And if I don’t document every crazy, unbelievable thing that has happened, I’ll eventually forget.

I sit at the desk, and look down at the bold handwriting scribbled across the top piece of paper, firmly outlining our cameo characters and the tragically magical adventures we would soon embark on. Tragically meant to be.

I can feel every indention the pen made on the paper as I brush my fingertips across the smooth surface, save for the slight imperfections. Vallies and groves of storytelling embedded in the paper, bearing the secret tales no one was meant to know about.

I glance up, my clock catching my eye. 6:27.

“Shit!”

I jump up, grab my jacket off my bed and yank on some well-worn leather boots, bounding out of my room and down the stairs in a matter of seconds. I don’t bother saying goodbye, Andy’ll figure out where I’ve gone.

The concrete colliding with the soles of my boots over and over again sounds ominious. Despite how fast I feel I am going, it feels like I am passing no houses at all. After our turbulent relationship, the last thing I need is for Elizabeth to have one more thing to hang over my head and taunt me over.

“Oh, you’re late... Typical of you to put yourself before everyone else.” I can hear her saying in my head. Her voice sounds disappointed and snob, and in my head, she stands at her doorway, scanning me up and down with a judgy stare before closing the door in my face. Rejection isn’t one of my many strong points.

“Dammit.” I huff breathlessly, bounding across a street without looking, nearly tripping over the overflowing drain at the corner of the sidewalk as I go.

Her house comes into view, and her car is out front. Instead of getting lovely pastel pink, nostalgic visions at the sight of it, I just shiver, reminded of the cruel argument between her and Reece yesterday, when he continuously pushed her to the edge and she did nothing to defend herself from him.

I tighten my fingers into anxious fists and close the distance between myself and her front porch, raising my hand to knock, but the door disappears from beneath my hand, and I am standing face to face with Elizabeth’s Dad.

Automatically, I’m reminded of the awkward, strange meeting we had in church a few days ago, and grow increasingly concerned when his expression is nothing but cheeful and welcoming.

“Hey, you much be Eliza’s friend. I’ll call her down, come on in.”

I step into the familiar setting of her foyer, momentarily dazed by how the orange sunlight of sunset lights up the dining room and attached living room, the glass tabletop casting fantasic, glittering patterns against the wood grain of the front door.

“Eliza, your friend is here!” He calls up the stairs, then turns towards me, holding out his hand with a friendly smile. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m Frank, Eliza’s Dad.”

“Oh,” I grab his hand as a reflex of being raised as a good, kind kid, “I’m Ash Hunter. I just live up the street. We haven’t seen each other much, huh?” I say conversationally, and confusion crosses his face.

“Oh... You’ve been here before? I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“No problem, I think I was always here while you guys were at work. No harm done.” I smile kindly, but inside, I am mentally scolding Ashley. He is definitely behind this.

I hear barefeet slapping on the wood floors above my head, and soon enough, Elizabeth is jogging down the stairs, brushing strands of wire straight white-blonde hair out of her eyes. “Thanks Dad. You remember Ash, don’t you?”

“Actually, I don’t...” He looks down, his face reddening in embarrassment, making me feel worse than if he remembered me as the shitty piece of trash he thought I was on Sunday.

“It’s okay, we’ve already met.” I exlpain to Eliza, and she nods slowly, looking at me with a look of suspicion in her hazel eyes. “Right...” She pauses, “want to head up and study?”

Her Dad quickly excuses himself from the awkward situation and I agree. We climb the staircase and go to her room. She shuts the door behind me, and presses her back against it, staring me down with a cold, but intent glare.

“Sit.” she orders.

I’m too caught up in looking around her room to see what’s changed in the last couple weeks to pay any mind to her demands. “A lot has changed.” I commented, noticing that the sheer lace curtains framing her window weren’t their normal baby-girl pink, but a subtle purple shade now.

“Let’s skip the small talk, spill the details.”

I stop my snooping and turn towards her, looking her dead in the eye, hoping she would amend her demand, to at least make it reasonably easier to answer.

“Now- I know you’ll probably try to lie, and that’s understandable given the circumstances, but let’s take a moment to look at the evidence I gathered.”

She leaves her post in front of her bedroom door and walks towards her desk, fiddling with her computer, then the printer beside it, before she produces a simple sheet of copy paper, turning towards me with an amused, evil expression, waving the blurry black and white photo at me so fast I cannot make out what’s on it.

“This,” She sighs, holding the paper towards me. I accept it, looking at her, then down at it. “is the cold, hard evidence. I’ve been searching all afternoon for a reason for me to be wrong, but there isn’t one. There’s a dead similarity between the dead boy and the guy you brought to school, which obviously raises some questions.

My hands have tightened around the outer edges of the paper in a vice like grip, my pulse thudding out of control makes it hard to breathe.

The photo is definitely of Andy, but not one I’ve seen.

“Where’d you get this?” I ask calmly as though I were asking about a cute scarf she owned.

“His old MySpace account.” she admits proudly, “and boy, things lined up pretty quick. 26 year-old pretty boy front man for struggling glam rock band, Black Veil Brides. Struggled with addiction and self harm until eighteen, then disappeared for eight years to turn up here, only to meet his doom.”

She tells the story so matter-of-factly, as though it was a tale Andy had personally shared with her. It causes me to narrow my eyes at her, wondering momentarily if it’s the real Elizabeth that I am speaking to.

“So tell me... Is he really dead?”

Her stare is intent, but persistant. I swallow hard and look back at the photo in my hands, my throat suddenly dry.

“Ash.”

“I can’t tell you.” I mumble without thinking, keeping my eyes locked on his smiling face.

“Oh?” She inquires with annoyance in her voice.

“No. And I won’t.” I toss the photo onto her bed and look at her. “I came here to talk about us. Nothing else.”

She laughs humorlessly, “He’s got a big part in your life now, doesn’t he? He’s sunk his hooks in and it’s changed you. It feels relevant.”

“Well, it’s not.” I frown, “besides, I don’t owe you any private details when you’ve given me none.”

“What do you mean?”

“Elizabeth, answer me honestly. Is Reece hurting you?”

She looks confused, then immediately angry. “Why on earth would you think that? You have no right-”

She stops to grit her teeth in irritation, “He would never hurt me. You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of what?!” I throw my hands up. “Jealous of the new assortment of bruises you show up to school with? The ones on your face that peer through your makeup after you’ve sweat it off in gym? Jealous of the verbal abuse you undergo that makes you cower in front of your own home?”

“You have no clue what you’re talking about!” She raises her voice defensively.

“Don’t I? I saw it all yesterday! He isn’t good to you, I don’t know why you’re lying for him.”

She opens her mouth to lash out with a new set of harsh insults, then her lips curl into a smug smile, “I imagine it’s the same reason you’re defending dead boy, huh? Life or death? Can’t leave because something bad will happen to someone? Can’t tell no one because everyone will think you’re crazy?”

I run out of fuel and process her words.

“Reece isn’t terrible to me. Our relationship is just the same as anyone elses, we have our ups and downs. Let’s talk about you now. Explain it to me.”

“No. You’ve got too big of a damn mouth.” I mutter in irritation. “Coming here was a mistake. You’re just pushy and mean, looking for some way to make everyone hate me more. Go ahead, rip me apart some more! Tell more people how I broke your fucking nose, how I cornered you and bullied you.” I tell her through clenched teeth, my anger automatically triggering my emotions. “Tell them all how Reece is a Goddamned saint, and how I’m the damn devil. Tell them how insane I am because I can’t find any comfort anywhere in my insane life after I witnessed the death of someone very close to me. Tell them all that...”

I shift my jaw, narrowing my eyes at her. Fuck it. Get it out, what the hell else is there left to be ruined? I’ve already chased everyone I love away.

“Tell them all that Ash Hunter talks to dead people.”

Notes

Comments

I just want to say, I am here to support you no matter what you do <3

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/12/20

Oh gosh, I'm getting weird vibes towards this "sketchy" part of town.

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
5/8/19

I am absolutely in love with this book!

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/30/19

Poor Ashley. Poor Andy. Poor Asheen. Wow, what a story! :)

Merelan Merelan
4/29/19

I am conspiring so many theories about this book my head hurts... lol... anyway, great chapter as usual! Can't wait to read what happens next

Mezzy18 Mezzy18
4/25/19