Saving Marley

Chapter Twenty Two

Marley

Someone bangs on the bathroom door, so I rip it open and glare. A random man stares at me, so I scream. My throat burns as I slam the door shut.

"Get out of my house before I call the police."

"Marley, it's me, Trent."

"I don't care if your name is Jack, you need to get out of my house."

"Welp, it's actually my house." He chuckles.

I peer around the bathroom and wrap my arms around my body.

"What? Why am I here?"

"You're a ghost, Marley. Does any of this ring a bell?"

"No?" I sniffle.

"You're in a coma because a hockey ball knocked you out."

"You're joking, right?"

"Marley, open the door."

I grab the door handle, but my hand slides through the knob. I jump back and shake my head.

"No, no, this isn't happening."

"Just breathe and think about holding the door handle."

I focus on the door handle and unlock it. Trent waves and I slap my hand onto my forehead.

"Trent." I gasp. "I remember now."

I hope this nightmare ends soon. The gash on my forehead has healed and my wavy blonde hair a fraction longer. I'm still wearing this bloody school uniform, though.

"I have an idea." He smiles.

"What?" I frown.

"Since you're losing your memory, perhaps we need some flash cards?"

"I'm not a toddler." I groan.

"You're a ghost who's forgetting her memories."

"I don't know if that should terrify or excite me?"

"Let it be exciting! Perhaps you're fading into your body?" He grins.

"What if I'm fading into nothing?" I frown. "What if I'm, you know?"

Trent shakes his head. "Adam would have said something."

"I suppose."

"We should do something after school tomorrow."

"What?"

"There's someone I want to visit."

"Who?" I raise an eyebrow.

"It's a surprise." He cheekily grins.

"I don't like surprises." I pout. "I think they're stupid."

"This one is going to help you remember, Mars," he whispers, "I promise you'll remember."

"Okay." I nod my head. "If you think that's what we need to do."

"Please don't try escaping tonight, my mother might actually believe the doors have a mind of their own."

"Doors, escaping?" I frown.

"You keep forgetting what's happening, so I have to talk you into coming back into the house. Why do you always assume you're being kidnapped or about to be tortured? Do I look that scary?"

"Perhaps I have an overactive imagination?" I chuckle.

"I should go to bed since it's late and I've had terrible sleep all week."

"Sorry." I sheepishly grin.

"Please be good tonight."

"I'd promise but I have no control over what happens to me." She frowns.

"It's okay, goodnight Marley."

He hops into bed while I stretch across the couch. I want to panic, but I force myself to focus on a movie. This is a good sign, but no matter how many times I say it, I don't believe it.

* * * * *