Haunt || Matty Healy

Sixteen.

Kelsey whistles loudly when she opens her door and spots me. She grins giving me a one over and wriggling her eyebrows. "Catholic school girl," she says, nodding in approval. "I'm liking this new look." She giggles and hikes her book bag over her shoulders, closing the door beside her as she lead me away.

I frown, glancing down at my outfit for the day. "Its just a regular outfit," I defend, smoothing out my skirt.

"It's raunchy," She says slyly. She leans her head closer to mine, linking our arms together. She whispers in a conspiring tone, "Is it a boy? All you need is a bible and you're – oh my god, Nila, is that a bible in your hands?"

"No." I jut my chin upwards hoping to show some sort of authority. It's George's book. Or maybe it's Tía Charla's.

She blinks and opens her mouth to say something, but ultimately thinks better of it. Or maybe she thinks it's best not to even know the answer. In actuality, I can tell her the reason why and for a moment she'd believe me, and she'd go along with me. She's a ride or die – even if she thought I was going batshit, she'd humor me. It's what she's been doing since the start. At this point we've gone over scenarios like this countless times. But it's clear, for whatever reason, she's not supposed to know maybe, and that's why he keeps wiping her memory.

I'm sure his over use of his mind tricks might cause some kind of ripple effect, but what do I know? I swear he's had this conversation with me – Mandela Effects or something. But there are so many gaps in that memory, I've wondered if I had only dreamt it. I wonder, sometimes, if everything involving Matty Healy was only a very prolonged nightmare.

Kelsey says, "You're lucky global warming is real and out here and allowing you to wear this in the middle of December." Kelsey is right about our uncharacteristically warm 57 degrees in the city and while we probably should be worrying about the climate change, it's clear that everyone is unavoidably trying to milk the hell out of the nice day. Kelsey herself is wearing shorts that are dress code questionable and an oversized cropped sweater that confuses me

It's warm enough that I don't need to wear too many layers, but my socks are still knee high and I've got a cardigan over my white shirt. I spent the last couple of nights avoiding sleep and somehow in my dazed stupor, I figured this atrocity of an outfit would be the holy water to Matty Healy's demonic nature.

Right?

"So who's the outfit for?"

"Matty Healy," I admit.

"Oh, he's back in town?" She asks like this is a normal conversation to be had.

I shrug, tugging her down the steps of the subway station. "I don't think he's ever left."

He said something to me during Zay's funeral – in fact he's said a ton of things to me. I can't be too sure what's been manipulated out of my brain and what's real, but I clearly remember him saying that he's never left me – that all those weeks he's been out of mind, he hasn't really been out of sight; he's always been there in the background, or hell, maybe even right in front of my face.

He also pretty much said he's picked me over everyone else... whom exactly does everyone else consists of beats me. His indication that had he chose otherwise, I'd be dead, makes me want to lean on the "everyone else" being dead in result of him not choosing otherwise.

"I think he loves me," I mumble, furrowing my eyebrows, trying to remember the last time I've seen him.

"Aw, Tubbs, that's beautiful," Kelsey gushes as the train rushes by us, sending our hair askew all over our faces. It stops abruptly and we step aside to let the passengers exit before walking in. We're lucky enough to find two available seats by a window.