MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE ONESHOTS

ghost (part one)

(trigger warning for violence/gore, death/mentions of death, and ghosts/demons)

Frank died on the weekend before the haunting. The last time I talked to him was almost a month ago when we had a group project. I mean, yeah, he was always a weird kid, but I thought he was cool for that reason. I was a weird kid, too, and I told him I'd hang out with him after the project.

Never did.

A week of school came and went. It was normal, except Frank wasn't in my chemistry class anymore and people were whispering. Nobody was really sad about it, just wondering if maybe he'd come back as a demon or vampire or something. Frank was kind of a punk, so people thought he was evil or something.

He didn't come back as a demon or anything, but he did come back. It started with the dreams. I'd see him again in my sleep, writhing and squirming, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, in a dark, humid, damp room. There were two scars that extended his mouth, like a Chelsea smile, and they bled whenever he shook. Eventually, the bleeding and the shaking would stop, leaving him staring directly up at nothing. Never blinking. It scared me so bad, and it felt like I could never wake up. Sometimes, while he was squirming, he would reach towards me, or claw at my shirt. One time I couldn't even see him. I just heard his voice whispering a backwards message in my ear that I could barely hear, and my throat clenched as if it was being gripped at.

Those dreams ended, but it wasn't too long before the next stage of the haunting happened.

It started in my closet. There Frank was — hanging from a rope on the metal pole strung horizontally in the walls. It was cold, and I needed a coat. I asked my dad to help me find one, since I didn't have a lot of winter clothing, and I saw him hanging there clearly in front of my eyes. My dad didn't see him, though, and just pushed him out of the way to see the rest of the hangers. He pulled out a coat like it was nothing and tossed it at me. My dad left the room, so I had a staring contest with the dead boy in my room. I was too scared to scream. I was just frozen. After fifteen minutes of staring, my feet got tired, so I sat down on the carpeted floor. He was glaring at the floor blankly, his eyes glossy and clouded. His irises were hazel, I realized, but right now, they looked like foggy mud. It was terrifying. Why was I staring still? This definitely wasn't a fun experience, but the more I stared at him, the worse I felt for him. Before, what I felt about Frank after he died was a bad feeling in my gut, sort of wishing that maybe I got to know him better. But now? Now I thought about his family, who were definitely crying in his room right now, looking at all their old family photographs. And Frank, who, if I wasn't just hallucinating and having strange dreams, was stuck here on earth... like purgatory. 

I learned that sympathy was a good way to forget how scared I was of this guy. I was still usually very much afraid, though.

That night, I couldn't go to bed. I wasn't having weird dreams, it was just that my mind was restless and unsettled. I tossed and turned and tried to find a comfortable position in bed, but it was impossible to find sleep. My dark bedroom's ceiling fan looked like a spider crawling out of the roof, climbing closer to me. Hissing. I felt like crying. What had I done to deserve this? I sat up in my bed after an hour of attempting to sleep. I saw a figure in front of me with white bed sheets over his head. He wore black skinny jeans with holes in the knees. It was Frank. I was so sick of Frank. What was he gonna do now? Bleed? Squirm? Choke me? Grin? Die a thousand more deaths a thousand more times? All he did was stare. I stared back. Though the holes in the bedsheet shadowed his eyes for the most part, I could still see that they were hazel in color. They were a brighter brown than they were when he was being hung in my closet. He was looking me right in the eyes. Not even staring through me or something — directly at me. I stared back for a few more seconds before dropping down onto my back again and sighing. I didn't care if Frank's stupid ghost was in here, I was gonna sleep.