Haunted

Two

I've been sitting on my dorm room mattress for hours, curled up in an insignificant ball as I avoid the world.

A few times I accidentally drift off to sleep. Not surprising, considering I literally fell through a ghost earlier. I guess I should be thankful that I barely touched him, though even the tiniest brush with death always leads to a full day of exhaustion.

Better than the alternative.

Unfortunately, the sleep I manage to get isn't restful. Not even close. Every time I slip into a dream, Sam appears behind my closed eyelids. Only he's not smiling like he was earlier.

He's screaming in terror.

The nightmare startles me awake, over and over again, until I decide to fight sleep altogether. Instead, I think about the students I met in the library. And by students, I mean student. I wasn't prepared for Myka, and now I can't stop thinking about her.

Time to do some research.

I grab my school laptop from the desk beside my bed and set it in front of me, hesitating before I flip it open. What I'm about to do next makes me feel like a total creep, but if I don't do it, I'll go crazy with questions.

Screw it.

I log in before I can change my mind, then type Myka's name into the university directory. If I can learn more about her, maybe I'll be able to figure out why she was drawing a dead man in her sketchbook.

How does she even know Sam? Could they be related? Was she just working on some project for class?

I'm probably overthinking everything. In the library she was looking through old yearbooks, so it could have been chance that she happened to come across his photo. She could've thought his dimples are cute and decided he would be a great drawing subject.

Or is something else going on?

I think back on how Myka kept staring at me strangely throughout our encounter and shake my head.

No. It couldn't have been a coincidence. Something else is definitely going on.

But what? Is it possible that Myka's like me? Can she see Sam?

I don't remember her ever looking his way or hinting that she could hear him. Then again, I also did my best to pretend he didn't exist. She might've been ignoring him the same way that I was struggling to do. And if I can see specters, why does it feel like such a reach to wonder if someone else can too? She might be like me.

The thought excites me as much as it terrifies me.

I've never met someone who shares my curse before. Though I've often wondered if one of my parents was like me. This curse had to come from somewhere, right? My mom or dad might've inadvertently passed their ability on to me when I was born.

Or maybe they did it intentionally.

Now there's a scary thought. What type of psycho parent would ever want their child to deal with something like this? But I already know the answer. My foster parents over the years have proved time after time that not everyone is fit to take care of a child.

I just wish I could ask my biological parents why I'm like this, but they never returned as ghosts when they died. They left me with nothing but questions, and I've found myself resenting them for this for the past six years.

And why shouldn't I be angry? They could've stayed. The specters I see each and every day are a constant reminder that my parents had a choice, and they chose to leave.

Sulking like a child, I squeeze my black comforter until my fingers turn white and thump my head against the grey wall behind me.

How could they leave me alone? Did they even care about me at all?