Call Me Ghost ✔️

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I find myself driving with no clear destination.

In the passenger seat sits a backpack stuffed haphazardly with random clothes and other essentials. I'd gathered the items quickly, not wanting to linger in Ghost's house longer than necessary. I'm not sure where he went, probably to Dane's to vent his frustration, but I didn't want to still be there when he came back.

I'm not sure what's holding back the flood of tears behind my eyes, but that dam is close to breaking, and I'd rather not be driving when that happens.

I almost wish I could go to Mila's, but I have a fear that she won't be siding with me in this situation. They all started out as Ghost's friends first, not mine. I have no right to go to them anymore. And I'm not sure if I want to. None of them told me the truth, none of them even tried. Why were they all fine with leaving me in the dark?

I find myself turning to the only person I have left. Annie. I pull up to my old dorm in the dead of the night. The rain has eased up slightly into a steady drizzle, and I hold my backpack up above my head and I hurry up the steps to knock on the door.

There's no answer. She might be sleeping. I jiggle the doorknob and it turns, allowing me to open the door. It's the first time I'm grateful for Annie's forgetfulness to ever lock it. I slip inside, peering through the dark.

I shoulder my backpack as I softly shut the door behind me. I flick on the living room light, and the familiar space somewhat relaxes me.

That is, until my eyes fall on the couch, and the memory of Ghost returning my mother's necklace to me comes flooding to the forefront of my mind. And all of the other memories of us cuddled up on that couch, watching movies or making out or taking a nap together.

My throat hitches as I turn away and head down the hallway. I find Annie's bedroom door open, but when I peer inside, her bed is empty. Guess I was wrong, she's not sleeping, she's out partying somewhere. I should've guessed.

I shuffle away to my old bedroom door. I open it and inch inside. If I thought the memories from the living room were bad, this room is a millions times worse. My gaze sadly regards the stripped bed and the empty desk. The image of Ghost sitting there, reading my story for the first time, makes my heart clench.

All the kisses, the conversations, the sleepovers. It's too much to handle.

It's when my eyes land on the wall with the Hello Kitty band-aids that I officially lose it.

With a strangled sob I spin away from the room. I hurry back down the hall and practically throw myself through the front door. I nearly slip on the wet concrete stairs as I rush back down to my car. Once shielded from the rain in the safety of my front seat, I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and release a loud, painful sob.

Why is this so hard? Just the mere memory from a room is enough to cause such a reaction? I have memories with Ghost all over town, am I just supposed to avoid everywhere?

Where am I gonna go now?

As I sit there, attempting to tamp down the floodgates, there's only one other place of refuge that comes to mind. After a few more minutes of relentless crying, I wipe my tearful eyes and turn the key in the ignition. I ease away from the curb and drive cautiously through the quiet, drenched streets until I reach the nearest freeway entrance.

This may be in vain. It may be a waste of time. It may be hopeful thinking. But it's my last resort.

I drive in silence all the way there. It doesn't seem right to listen to music when I feel like this. Depressing songs would just make me more depressed, and happy songs would be even worse.