Haunting Dorian

02 - The Mirror

One thing was as familiar as the back of her hand about that house. It was the old apple tree between the house and the brown fence surrounding it. Standing in the drive-in, it was the only thing that she stared at. It was a haze but she remembered none the less how her father hung a swing on the branch of that tree. He tested it and fell right off. She had wanted to try too but he thought he had to make it more steady so that she could swing. Of course, Melinda had assured him she would hold on tight before he actually let her on it.

And she never fell from that swing.

The house itself was a light yellow with a white trim and a light gray roof. It was almost exactly like she remembered it, the paint a bit newer. The only difference was in the windows. The curtains were blue and she scrunched up my nose in disgust at the sight. Who had such poor taste in interior decorations? Or it might have looked too happy for her. Nowadays she tended to prefer black over every other shade.

Moments later she found herself inside the house and looking all around. The floor was polished and clean unlike how she remembered it. Their floor had always been chipped and her father had painted it an awful red color. It had always reminded her of pooling blood and whoever had given it a new paint sure saved themselves from the nightmares.

"No, Maddy, I'm not going to come down there just for a pair of old boots," a woman's voice sounded. She followed it to a renovated kitchen in the North-East of the house. Her eyes were alive with laughter, one hand clutching her phone to her ear and the other tapping against the counter top. As the conversation on the other end continued, the woman's eyes saddened. "I know, I miss you and the girls too but we did this for Dorian. It's our last chance to try and fix our family. I am concerned for him, he's not himself."

Melinda snorted. "You bet, the bastard can see ghosts," she mumbled, studying to see if the woman reacted to her. When that wasn't the case she jumped to sit on the counter and continue eavesdropping. Although her mother had always been the model housewife – punctual, modest, discreet, and perfect might have been most agitating about her – Melinda never was.

She had always been blunt, rebellious and unladylike. So while she knew eavesdropping wasn't going to earn much of an approval from her mother if she was watching her from beyond the light, it sure held boredom at bay. The thought of dear old mum watching didn't stop her.

"Do you think he could do something stupid?" She continued. Melinda could see where Dorian got most of his looks from as his mother twirled a lock of hair around her finger. The ghost visitor was more interested in hearing the dirt than a mother's concern. "I don't know, Mads. Maybe, like... Like, hurt himself? Like, ruin his life because if he did something like that I would blame myself for that for the rest of my life." Her thin lips were turned down in a frown, heart-shaped face taking a whole new bearing. When before her eyes had been smiling, she was all of a sudden as down in the dumps as a dump can be.

Whatever Melinda labeled herself as it wasn't heartless and she sympathized with her. She, herself, had done the reckless thing and ruined her life. She died. And no matter how much she hated herself for ending her life so short, it was her family's lives that she couldn't forgive herself for.

Her parents fell apart and not just their marriage. They were both so drained by the time it passed six months from their only child's death that they had to seek counseling.

Mrs. Frauman continued her phone conversation in a lot darker tones, while Melinda left the kitchen. There were so many things about the house that had changed over the years. She hadn't come back here after her parents left and instead preferred to stay at the school, where nothing changed. But even past new wallpapers, furniture, and modern gadgets, she could see what the house was before it all changed.