[ Chapter 15 ]

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Content Warnings:

•Mentions of Death
•Season 4 Spoilers
•Strong Language
•Violence
•Ghosts
•Hitting
•Blood
•Loss

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Sensitive content is present in this chapter, please read at your own discretion.

Flashback

"Why does she have to come over? She's pure evil!" You frowned at your father. "(Nickname)," He sighed and took a break from his work. "She's not "evil," you need an older female in your life to help 'ya. This is good for 'ya! She loves 'ya like you're her own." He exclaimed in an effort to change your mind. "Yes, she is! She hates me! She treats me like a piece of shit! Nobody ever believes me!" You raised your voice in frustration. "That's not true-" The man countered but you cut him off. "Oh really? What did you, Tristan, and Quincy think when I told you I talk to dead people?" You asked, arms crossed as you waited for a response.

"Exactly." You sneered when your father had nothing to say to that. With a huff, you left the workshop to go to your room, and slammed the door shut. You felt warm tears prick at the corners of your eyes the second you sat on the edge of your bed. You hated that narcissist and she knew it. That's what she always wanted from you, so it'd be easier for her to play victim for her games.

You heard footsteps approach your door and recognized them as your father's. In anger, you pushed yourself off the bed, and gripped the back of your desk chair. "(Nickname), please open the door." He pleaded from the other side of it. "Go away!" You shouted as your grip tightened. "Quincy, would 'ya try to get her out of there?" You heard your father mumble. Suddenly, your door swung open. Quincy, and your father both stood outside in the hallway.

"The hell you two want?!" You shouted and picked up the chair. "Geez, Y/n! Calm down! Why're you so mad?" Quincy frowned as he entered your room. "I said leave me alone!" You threatened to throw the wooden chair at him as you held it over your head. Before you could have swung it, Quincy grabbed ahold of your arm while the other grabbed a chair leg, his strength overriding yours. "What's up with you and your man-strength?" Your older brother asked as he unhinged your grip from the chair to set it back down. However, he still held your arm.

"Nothing." You muttered and jerked your arm back from his grasp. Quincy inaudibly sighed as he rubbed his temple in annoyance. "A sixteen-year-old girl shouldn't be acting so violent over hatred, y'know?" He tried to reason but you didn't say anything back. You only sat down on the edge of your bed again. You really did not want to socialize anymore and Quincy eventually got the hint, and left your room but left the door cracked open.

Lying down on your bed, you covered your face with your hands with a long sigh. You then heard a noise as your bed gently dipped beside you. "What is it, (dog's name)?" You asked without removing your hands from your face. You heard her/him whine as she/he rested her/his chin on your stomach so you rubbed her/his head. You sat up from your previous laying position and looked down at (dog's name) with a blank expression. "You hate her too, right? So you can understand where I'm coming from." You quietly conversed with the dog, even though it was one-sided. She/He looked up at you and wagged her/his tail a bit, not understanding you but happy to be around you, nonetheless.

After a few seconds of silence, (dog's name) suddenly pounced off your bed and left your bedroom. "Well, that lasted." You sighed to yourself and got up. As soon as you were standing, (dog's name) was back at your feet, holding her/his favorite toy in her/his mouth. A soft chuckle escaped as you grabbed the toy from her/him and threw it out the door. (Dog's name) bolted out of your room again and chased after the toy down the hall.

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