//fog\\

06:Exit Up Center

CHRIS

I didn't have any regrets about pushing my best friend into a river. I had regrets about many things in life, but I was damn proud of that.
It'd been a week, and I was getting less proud every day. Why? Well, maybe because said best friend hadn't talked to me since then.
I acknowledged that he wasn't the best at communication sometimes. We both had our awkward streaks. But this was weird. Then again, I hadn't texted him. He always texted first. (Always!)

It was 1:00 AM. I was so glad it was summer, but that didn't mean I was satisfied with my current situation. I rolled onto my side, pulled the blankets over my face and hid there, silently hoping I could wake up and it'd be like it used to be.
If that ghost was gone. If he stopped being able to see ghosts. If he'd never started seeing them, if he'd never met that psycho girlfriend he used to be dating. But none of those things were under my control.
I couldn't wake up and snap my fingers and- bang, sparkle!- situation averted. I groaned. All this midlife crisis-esque thinking was giving me a headache. My brain was getting overloaded.
"Fuck this," I hissed under my breath, "I'm going to sleep."

3:00 AM. 12 missed calls. I rubbed my eyes, trying to read the caller name when my ringtone blasted through the top-volume speakers on my phone. Jesus Christ, I thought, why do I keep this thing on full volume?!
Call from: This Idiot Again?!
Yes, This Idiot Again?!, exclamation and question marks included. That was Lucas's name on my phone. Considering June's is "satan lesbian 666," it could've been a lot worse. I picked up the phone.
"Wazzup, babe?" I greeted him cheerfully.
"Oh my god," his voice was shaking. "I called you like a thousand times,"
"Oh shit, that was you?!"
"Yes, you fucking dumbass! Now listen to me, please."
"Okay?"

"It's Anne. She's gone."

"Wait, what?"
"Anne, Chris. The ghost? She- I can't find her anywhere!"
"Are you sure you haven't just lost your power to see ghosts?"
"It's not... No, I haven't. Please help me! Where could she have even gone?"
"I don't know!"
The line went quiet for a while.
"Lucas, I'm coming over to your house for a while."
"What?"
"I said I'm coming over."

I knocked on the door. No response- he was probably in his room. I pulled out my cell phone to text him. After I sent the text and put my phone in my back pocket, I sat down on the steps to wait for him.
The waiting took a while. It wasn't the kind of waiting where you can play phone games or doodle on your hand or listen to music. It was more like the waiting when you're scared for someone, when they're in the emergency room for the third time that week and you keep wondering, did they do it this time? Did he?
Luckily the situation wasn't so grave as that had been, and the door slowly creaked open after a while. I could hear that shattered breathing, reminding me of myself that night.
It wasn't too much. I could pull through. I couldn't tell if I was lying or not.
I couldn't be lying. I had to help him, so I wouldn't let myself be lying.

I grabbed the door's handle and eased it open, holding out my hand to grab Lucas if he stumbled when I had opened the door. I was about to say how likely that would be, but right now, anything was likely to happen. Lucas was the one person who I couldn't decipher.

ANNE

It's cold and dark, full of unwavering fear and anxiety. That's how Hell feels. If anyone asks, please tell them they don't want to go.
I don't want to go.

I don't want to go I don't want to go I dontwanttogoIdontwanttogo I'm scared.