The Ghost Files

Chapter Five

The steady beep, beep, beep wakes me. My eyes slam shut as soon as I open them. The bright light shoots pinpricks through my head and the slightest movement causes spirals of fresh pain to ripple through my skull. My stomach rolls and bile rises up into the throat. I don't ever remember hurtingthis much. Holy crap. If this is what a hangover feels like, I swear I will never again even contemplate sipping a beer.

It takes a minute for my fuzzy mind to remember what happened. What exactly did Mirror Boy do to me? At least I think it was a guy. Anyway, I didn't know that ghosts could physically hurt people. Scare them sure, but actually cause harm? That's new to me. First order of business when I feel better is to do some intensive research into ghosts. Even if I never speak to one again after this, I want to know what they can and can't do.

There's that antiseptic smell – and the beep, beep, beep. It's a big indicator, at least to me, that I'm in a hospital. Hospitals are a haven for ghosts. It's why I never willingly go into places like this. They badger me with questions and it's all I can do to pretend I don't see the little buggers. Usually, it doesn't bother me. They're background noise like a TV or radio playing, just to eat up the silence. But since my encounter with Mirror Boy, I'm more than a little bit terrified.

Fear is not an emotion I'm not used to feeling. I've made myself fearless over the years – but when that ghost got in my face, all my defenses scattered to the wind. Blind terror was all I'd felt. I didn't like it then and I certainly don't like it now. Nothing has been able to make me feel helpless since the Mom incident. Being here, I can't help but to remember that day.

We were in yet another run-down motel in New Jersey. I was five. The walls were an ugly shade of burnt orange and the stains in the carpet only added to the stink of the room. Mom gave me Spaghetti-O's to eat and then turned the TV to the only cartoon channel the motel's cable service offered. I remember watching SpongeBob and laughing as he and Patrick irritated Squidward.

Mom came in and sat down next to me a little while later. She stroked my hair absently. It was odd because she hadn't done it in a while. She was usually jonesing for her next heroin fix and this was nice. I didn't see the knife at first. I was too caught up in the fact she was acting like my Mom again. I remember she started to hum and I smiled. Mama could sing like nobody else I'd ever heard.

"Don't worry, baby girl," she'd whispered. "It's all going to get better now." She raised her hand and that's when I'd seen the knife. By then it was too late. I pitched forward off the couch when she ripped the knife out of me. Pain lanced through my chest and I screamed. She brought the knife down again and again, her eyes calm and peaceful the whole time.

She kissed my cheek and told me to go to sleep. Raising the knife once more, she pushed it deep into her own throat before pulling it out.  She collapsed beside me, her face inches from mine. I had to lay there and watch her die. The last thing I remember seeing until I woke up in a hospital room was the life bleeding out of her eyes.

Something snapped in me that day. I broke in ways I'm not sure I can explain. It's also when the ghosts started showing up. I still secretly wonder if I'm not just a little insane. My Mama was crazy or so they told me. Paranoid schizophrenia. She heard voices. Ghosts maybe? Did they drive her to do what she did? I want to rationalize it, to find a reason for why she'd try to kill her own daughter, but I can't. Maybe I never will. I just don't know.

Since then, I haven't ever really been afraid of anything. Defense mechanism, that's what the psychologists called it. I was closed off with trust issues. Yeah, well, let their moms try to kill them at the ripe old age of five, and then tell me if they don't have a few emotional roadblocks.

But Mirror Boy?  He scared the bejeezus out of me. I'm lying here in a bed, afraid to open my eyes for fear of what might be standing next to me. I so do not like this feeling, but I'm not sure what to do about it yet. It's new to me and I hate it!