House Ghost ONC 2022 LONGLISTER

Chapter 4: The Human

POV: Justin

Hello. You have reached the voicemail box of Dr. Faith Neferstain. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 911. Otherwise, please leave your name, phone number, and message.

"Hey, doc. It's me, Justin. Uhh...Today was a shitty day. I'm not surprised, honestly; one year ago was a shitty day for me too. It started off badly, when I woke up late and exhausted, haunted by the weird stuff in the attic. Then I can't find my keys, so I'm even later to work.

"Turns out it's one time too many, the manager calls me up and says something about points? I've been trying my best, I haven't come in late in weeks. I'd even been trying to pick up extra hours but the memories have just been so damn strong they're crippling me.

"Doesn't matter. The point is, I'm looking down the barrel of being fired. She says it'll probably be over the weekend. And I'm just, I'm overwhelmed. You said for me to call if things got bad and I'm..."

Don't say it Justin. You're fine.

"I'm just a little..."

Silence fills the space, consumed by the hum of the voicemail box.

Don't say you're not okay.

"I'm actually calling to cancel therapy, and I just feel like a dick doing it this way. But with getting fired, and the rent going up I'm not gonna-- we're going to have to pause for a few months. You can call me back tomorrow, I guess. Iron out any details that you need to go over, but... yeah. Okay. Goodbye."

I end the call and thump my head against the steering wheel. Way to go, Justin. Handled that perfectly, like you always do. It's been a long day, and it's shaping up to be an even longer night.

I don't really know why I stayed out driving for so long, cruising aimlessly over backroads and gravel paths for over three hours. I thought it'd be a soothing way to unwind; at least that's what I tell myself. The truth is, I'm just avoiding the apartment, and all the memories it's gonna dredge up tonight.

Maybe driving isn't the smartest thing to do, considering what happened to my roommate last year, and my current mental state. After wandering around on backroads in the darkness for hours, it's bringing up more painful thoughts than otherwise.

What time is it? Late, definitely after midnight. I don't care, it's not like I am going to have work tomorrow. But I do need sleep; my eyes are getting blurry and the last thing I need is an accident.

The front door opens after I shove it three times, screeching like a banshee. If it was any other night, I would probably be creeped out by the unearthly silence and inky blackness of my apartment, and lunge for the light switch. Tonight I'm glad not to have to look at anything that would trigger a memory.

Scrounging around in the kitchen gives me a plate of odds and ends. The food smells a little funny but I'm too tired to get something from McDonalds. So I stumble to the living room, balance the paper plate on my lap, and munch on the leftover meatloaf and potato chips in silence.

It's cold. I absently reach for the throw, but my hand only feels the stiff leather backing of the recliner. I twist around, trying to see if it's hanging off the edge of the chair, but I can't see it. There's not enough light to look around properly, so I shrug it aside and huddle over my plate. I'll look for the throw in the morning.

Having no lights on is strange. In a way, it's relaxing and makes my eyes close. But to my jangled nerves, every noise is magnified and I can't get away from it. The wind outside is howling and banging on the door. Floorboard creaks sound like they're in my ear. All these sounds in the dark make me feel like I'm alone in the world.