MACKIE

5. Lolita's Ghost

"Mackie?"

"Go away, Jasper," she grumbled, burying her face into the pillow as she pulled the covers over her head. It's been too long since she had a good night sleep and she didn't want her idiotic brother ruining it for her.

"Please, Mackie. Help me."

"If I really have to get up right now, I swear to God, you're not gonna like it," she warned, the anger in her voice muffled by the pillow. "Get the hell out of my room, Jasper."

She tried to ignore him, but he seem to be very persistent with whispering her name in that creepy voice of his. He use to do this frequently, normally around the time after they had just finished watching a horror film. It was to the point where she couldn't go back to sleep anymore and that really aggravated her. She hated when he acted childish, but she hated it even more when it was at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Sometimes he didn't know when to quit. That was his problem.

"Mackie?"

Annoyed, Mackie pushed the covers off, reaching across her night stand to switch on the lamp. The once dark room brightened in seconds, her eyes slowly adjusting to the change.

It took her a while, but she finally realized that Jasper was nowhere in sight. In fact, she could here him snoring in his own bedroom across the hall.

That's weird, she thought, scanning the room. Nothing was out of place, not even the tiny pile of dirty clothes resting up against her closet door. What the fuck?

"Mackie?"

There it goes again.

Curious, Mackie got out of bed and slowly made her way to the door. She entered the hallway as quietly as possible so as not to wake Jasper, who didn't seem to be waking up anytime soon anyway. He was usually a sound sleeper.

With each step she took, the wooden floor boards creaked beneath the bottoms of her feet. She used the light shining from her room as a guide to see down the dark empty hallway. To no surprise, everything was normal.

She spun around to the sound of that same voice, but there was no one there. She approached the bathroom and threw open the door, switching on the light, but once again, there was no one there.

Mackie growled, slamming the door shut, her temper getting the best of her. She couldn't take it anymore. All these strange happenings that's been going on with her was getting to her. She pinched herself on the arm in hopes that it was all a dream. Unfortunately for her, it wasn't.

"That's just great," she mumbled, rubbing the sore spot on her arm. "Guess I really am going crazy."

"Mackie?"

She decided to give up and head back to her room until she heard the whisper of her name again. This time, it sounded a bit further away. She turned her gaze to the staircase. It was coming from downstairs.

Mackie stood on top of the stairs, holding onto the railing. "It's official," she said, hesitantly planting her left foot down on the first step. She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she was a little scared. It was probably passed midnight right about now and she was the only one awake. Not to mention she was hearing voices that she wasn't even sure was real. "Yep, I'm definitely crazy."

When she arrived downstairs, she took a deep breath and quickly switched on the light in the living room. It was quiet and empty with only the dripping sound of the faucet coming from the kitchen. She went inside to turn it off while still searching for anything unusual. By habit, she removed the party sized bag of Lays potato chips she spotted resting on the dinner table and placed it back on top of the refrigerator where it was always kept. Nothing out of the ordinary and yet, she knew that something still wasn't right. That same feeling has been creeping up on her a lot lately. She unthinkably grabbed a knife from the dish drainer and left, her hand grasping the handle tightly as if her life depended on it. After scoping out the downstairs bathroom, Mackie double checked both the front and back doors to make sure they were locked and secured before turning off all the lights and going back upstairs.

She took another deep breath once she was back in her room. She closed the door behind her before resting the knife on top of her dresser and plopped down on her bed, a loud jerk coming from the springy mattress. She didn't bother switching off the lamp this time. Instead, she set herself in a comfortable position before pulling the covers back over her and wrapping them around her body like a cocoon. Hoping that sleep would take her once more, she closed her eyes and cleared her mind of all the restless thoughts bouncing around in her head.

"Help me, Mackie."

Just when Mackie thought she was finally drifting off to sleep, the sound of her name pulled her back to reality once more and she was officially wide awake again.

"YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME, MAN!" She exclaimed, shouting at no one. Jasper's snoring was starting to get on her nerves because she envied him for being able to sleep without a care in the world while she was having a hard time doing just that. It shouldn't have to be this hard for her to get some shut eye. She felt as if she was being punished for something.

Mackie covered her face with her hands for a moment, using the tips of her index fingers to rub her eyes. It was an understatement to say she was tired. She was more than that. There were no words in the dictionary that could describe just how exhausted she was and it was starting to take a toll on her.

She heard her cellphone vibrating on the night stand and sat up in bed, leaning her back against the head board for support. She goes to reach for it, but from the corner of her eye, spotted someone standing in front of her window. Mackie turned her head to see who it was and her body froze in shock. The room became even colder all of a sudden and goosebumps took over her. The hair on her skin was standing at attention. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She was beyond frightened. So frightened that she almost couldn't feel the start of another throbbing headache coming on. She was down right terrified. Mackie was shaking uncontrollably at the figure staring back at her--------or at least she thought it was.

An eyeball hung from its socket. Her skin was pealed off almost completely, the flesh on her once flawless face hanging down loosely. The wound was so deep that every layer of skin was gone, revealing a bare jawbone. Dark curly locks appeared wet and knotted as if it was just washed and forgotten about. Faded Denim jeans and a red long sleeve v-neck sweater were tattered and ripped, drenched in blood. Both her intestines were hanging down, brushing against the floor. Most fingers were missing on her left hand, leaving bloody stubs in their place. Her thumb was barely attached by a piece of skin and it seem as if the top part of that same arm was bitten into, leaving a big chunk of her bicep missing.

Mackie was silent. More so out of terror than anything else. Bile rose in her throat. She couldn't believe that this was her reality. She couldn't believe that this wasn't a dream. She was actually seeing this.

Lolita Rimerez.

She was staring at the ghost of Lolita Rimerez.

But how? Mackie thought, confused, barely grasping what was going on. I thought she was just missing. Didn't she ran away?

"Im dead, Mackie." It was as if she read her mind. "Help, me."

That was all it took for Mackie to finally pass out.