❝In my entire life, I've seen more dead people than living.❞
❝I will kill you and when you come back as a ghost, I will kill you again.❞
In a town filled to the brim with the supernatural, the dead have a lot to say. But is Harley willing...
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CHAPTER TWELVE Hanging By a Thread
(tw: depression, suicide talk and attempts – please read with caution and if you do not feel comfortable with reading, please feel free to skip this chapter)
HARLEY ABRUPTLY EXITED Isaac and Boyd's room to go to hers to hunt for her earphones and iPod. She passed by screeching and wailing ghosts, doing her best not to wince when they screamed right in her ears.
She walked into her room and rummaged through bag to get her iPod. Through her spare change of clothes and her jacket, she couldn't find it.
The screams outside grew louder. It was like hundreds of people had all entered the room and were yelling in her ears. Her head vibrated until it almost hurt and Harley was sure her eardrums were close to bursting.
She then angrily turned her duffel bag upside down and emptied its contents on her bed. She shoved her clothes out the way, scattering it all over her bed. She then touched something cool. She found it. She sighed in relief.
She pressed the on and off button, but it wasn't turning on. It ran out of battery. Harley groaned in frustration. "Damn it!" She yelled angrily, slamming it down on her bed. She then threw her empty bag across the room. It hit the television and dropped back on the floor. Harley followed suit as she sat down, leaning her back against the bed. She raised her fingers to her hair and pulled as the palms of her hands pressed against her ears.
"Shut up." Harley murmured as she rocked back and forth. The screams grew louder– filled with so much pain and sorrow that it almost hurt Harley to breathe. The banging in her skull only increased. "Shut up. Please shut up!"
She then started to pick at her cuticles and scratch her hands to bring her mind to something else– anything else. She picked and scratched until her hands and fingers started to hurt.
"Damn it. Damn it." Harley grumbled to herself.
She left her room abruptly in a huff, not bothering to shut the door behind her. She leaned against the railing and a ghost in his mid 30s with a giant slash in his throat, blood all over the front of his body, hissed at her. Harley's face scrunched up in both confusion and disgust. "What in the hell?"
She then looked up to see Ada was still on the roof of the motel. The ghost gestured for her to join her with her finger.
Harley was confused, but nonetheless she found the ladder on the side of the building and climbed up. She stopped midway and inhaled a sharp breath, heights were never her strong suit.
She eventually got to the top and exhaled in relief. Harley stood on the roof of the Glen Capri. The night breeze was colder than she anticipated. She stared out at the desert in the night, seeing almost nothing but what the light from the hotel lights shadowed over. Great view.
