H A U N T E D

s i x t e e n

s i x t e e n

"What?"

My heart stutters in my chest, slowing down at first and then speeding up. My veins burn with shock, and blood rushes to my ears. I open my mouth, unsure of what to say or even ask.

"You didn't know?", Steve asks with a bewildered look in his eyes, not quite knowing what to believe either. I shake my head slowly, feeling a headache starting to grow behind my eyes. The movement feels as if my head is filled with cotton and each movement is sluggish. I look around my environment, trying to find anything to hold on to reality. My gaze meets Steve's once again, and I remember that I can't trust this man.

"You're lying."

Steve gives out a wry chuckle, pursing his bottom lip as he runs his fingers through his curls.

"Why would I do that? The first day you arrived, Ophelia, I was here. I immediately knew what you were", he whispers and lets his arms fall to his side. I make a surprised noise in the back of my throat, remembering that day when he came up to speak with me.

"How?"

"Because you're the spitting image of your mom. I thought you were Jenna and then remembered that she left here knocked up. I thought you must be like her too, but after talking to you, I knew you were like night and day", Steve turns around, leaning his forehead against a locker. 

"What do you mean?"

Steve's responding laugh is cold and calculated as if he's picking his following words carefully.

"Your mother was so much braver than you are. People were scared of her, and she enjoyed it - relished in it, even", he reminisces with a culling grin. I think back to Jenna Lee, and what she would do if she was in this situation right now. Steve is not finished with his insulting speech.

"Looking at you right now, all I see is a scared little girl, and it's quite a pathetic sight, honey."

It's like a punch to my stomach as he compares me to my mother. I gasp for air, holding my stomach and leaning forward. His insults sting in the one place I cannot afford for it to hurt, and I choke back tears.

"You didn't know her", I breathe out.

"I know that she embraced her gift, she didn't hide from it as you do", he turns around to face me. I straighten back up, glaring at him as I do so.

"Saying that someone seeing dead people is a gift, is implying that it's a good thing", I say.

"There is nothing good about this. It's the work of the devil", I spit out. Steve takes a step forward, so fast that I miss the movement until he's right in front of me.

"So? You're special, Ophelia. You exist for a reason, to help us!"

I push him away, my eyes burning with unshed tears and anger. This spirit is so persistently annoying and I wish for nothing more than for him to die a slow and painful death - but of course, he beat me to it.

"Help you? With what?", I grit out, as my skin grows hot with hurt and outrage. 

"Isn't it obvious? I'm not here because I want to be, you foolish girl", he groans and slides down to the floor, reaching for his throat and adjusting his collar for me to see. When he takes his hand away, I see the old rusty stains of dried blood and a wound too deep to have been missed before. I remember the whistling sound from the other day and realize he must've had his throat ripped out.

"Revenge?", I choke out, gasping at the sight. You never get used to death, and even now, I feel the bile collect in my stomach and slowly pushing upwards. Steve lets his hand fall and laughs out with hopelessness, shaking his head as his eyes start to glow red at the rims.