Back at Square One (BEN Drowned)

25

It'd been three weeks since I'd reluctantly taken Ben back into my ownership. The buzzing in my house was back. Occasionally, I'd hear soft laughter and high pitched giggles reverberate around whatever room I was in. The one thing I was right about this entire time, I suppose, was that this wasn't the Ben I knew. Something else had taken his place. I should have known better than to upset him like this; now he might never come back.

When my mom had come back from whatever errands she'd planned that day, I stumbled through the door at the same time and saw her eyes widen.

"Oh, my god...Avery, what happened? Did...did you get in a fight or something?"

I hesitated. What? Then I noticed that my fingers had coagulated blood on the tips. And on top of that, my nose was bleeding for some reason.

"...oh. No, no, I didn't. I just...went out, and my nose started bleeding, so, I..." I held my palm up to my face. "...you know."

One week passed without event. It was a pretty...convenient time for my mom to be home more than usual. I'm pretty sure I was starting to develop a lot more weird habits than usual. Whenever I went up to my room, I kept looking behind me, through other darkened rooms, behind the shower curtains, closing my eyes whenever I passed a mirror. I always closed my door completely, careful to make sure the lock clicked every time.

Ben would still be there, of course. He could go nearly anywhere he pleased, now that he found a way to travel through telephone pole wires again.
I never talked to him, though. No matter how much he tried to get my attention.

"I wonder what would happen if I just snapped your mother's neck. Right now." He'd giggle and clutch at his stomach, trying to contain himself. "And you'd be, like, powerless to stop me. She'd...just be dead."

Ha, ha, fucking ha, asshole.

After another week, my mom was still trying to get things out of me. Apparently, she was "concerned" for my "well-being" or something like that. I didn't understand how she could pick up on the fact that I was slowly losing my mind over what happened to Meghan but not that we had a literal psychotic ghost in our house.

One week later, Ben killed someone else. He didn't tell me, and I didn't see the body myself.

But someone stopped me in the hallway—on a Monday, nonetheless—and asked me if I wanted to talk.

"Oh. Wait, why? About what...?" I faltered as I saw the girl's somber expression. Something was clearly not right; she seemed genuinely concerned for me. She looked familiar, but I couldn't figure out who she was. Not that I had the time or energy to do that anyway.

"It's okay. I know these last couple days have been really weird, and...you've never been the best at handling these types of things, so I just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

My mind raced as I tried to decipher what the hell she was talking about. This felt intrusive. It felt weird. My look of utter confusion must've been the most emotion I'd displayed in weeks, because she noticed it.

"...Avery? I'm talking about Charissa."

It took me a minute to process that. So something's happened with the little puppet. I felt a strange sense of bitterness rise in me. "What about her? No, let me guess. She's spreading some new rumor about how I have a ghost for a boyfriend, or, or how I killed Meghan Flores and—"

"Avery!" The girl was now on the verge of tears, and I knew instantly that I'd fucked up. I finally recognized her, though. She was the girl in my English class who had asked if I was okay when I first got myself into this whole mess. She let out a shaky sigh.

"Charissa died, Ave. She killed herself Friday night. You...you were in her...you know. Her note," the girl—Katie, I remembered—said reluctantly, clenching her hands and averting her gaze. Tears were visibly running down her face now, and a slow sense of dread creeped into my stomach.

She's dead.

Oh, no.

Before I could process what she's dead really meant, the question slipped out.

"What did she say? About...me?"

She shot me a look of pure anger and disappointment. "Are you sure that's what you want to be asking right now?" Her voice quaked and she narrowed her eyes at me. "I really thought...as her friend, you'd be a little more sympathetic. But I guess I didn't really need to check in after all. You seem just fine."

She turned to walk away but I grabbed her by the arm and looked her dead in the eyes. I probably looked like a zombie.

"Who told you that."

"What?"

"Who told you that me and Charissa were friends. What did she say in her note about me. Did it seem real? Why did she do it?"

Katie seemed taken aback. So much so that she answered almost immediately.

"I-I just assumed...she said...she wanted to tell you that she was sorry for something...?"

"Katie, Did it seem real?"

"What are you talking about? Why are you acting like..."

I sighed before she could collect her thoughts, and let go of her arm. "Whatever. Nevermind. I...I'm sorry. We should both get to class."

Now it was her turn to be confused. I walked away before I could get caught up in anything else and decided to skip Pre-Calculus to think things over. Of course I'd get in a shitton of trouble for that, but it was really the least of my worries at the moment. I'd think up some excuse at a later time.

I crouched in the stairwell, feeling more lonely than ever. This was all so messed up; now I didn't even have anybody I knew to keep me grounded in reality, regardless of whether they were just making fun of me daily and giving me death glares through 30 pounds of foundation. I never realized it, but...maybe Charissa actually might've wanted to be my friend. In some fucked-up way. But I'd been too closed off, or too much of a self-centered dick to even bother building a support group. This was my fault. What if some of that stuff in the note...what if maybe some of it were true?

No. Don't even think that. Ben is a liar and a psychopath, and now he's killed two people. It's not your fault. Do you really believe for a second what that girl just told you?

I started to quietly cry in the stairwell, and by the time I was done, the bell had rung. I sniffed and got up, going to my next class.