Tied to My Fate

2. Never Alone

He watches me as I brush my hair in the morning, and again when I tie it back at night. We watch 90 Day Fiancé and other trash TV shows until around 11, when he watches me fall asleep on the couch. He's there when my aunt's boyfriend comes home to shove me up to the room I share with their toddler.

He has the decency to stand on the other side of the door while I change into pajamas, and sits on the floor beside my bed as I sleep.

He does this because he can't leave. He's tried. I've seen his bluish haze of a body make it three houses away before he hits an invisible wall and ends up right next to me. The further he goes, the tighter the string on my finger gets.

He's told me he wants to go home.

How the hell am I supposed to manage that? It's easier to live my life just seeing him following me around and not interacting. Much easier. Things would get complicated if my aunt and her boyfriend made good on their threats to kick me out if they think I've lost my mind.

Those extra three days in the hospital on a 'special' floor were not pleasant.

My alarm goes off next to my head. I've already snoozed it three times. Maybe four. I get up and discover it's actually been six. I'm not the only one who has realized, because Zachariah is there, standing above me with his arms crossed.

"You're going to be late."

As if I didn't know that already. I walk around him and grab a hoodie from the floor. There's no time for the usual routine, so I strip down there with him still in the room. It's been three months since the accident. He knows that he should turn around.

"The marks on your back aren't healing right."

I grab a pair of leggings and shrug those on as well.

"Are you going to ignore me forever?"

I'm out the door and have my headphones secured to my head the rest of the way to school. The trouble comes when I get there and have to take my headphones off. Today, though, Zachariah doesn't say anything during class, leaving me free to doodle while the teacher drones on about some project I won't be turning in.

Cold air hits my shoulder and I look up to see Zachariah walking up the aisles of desks. Maybe he's tired of me ignoring him and is going to go wander the school. I won't blame him for that. But instead of fading through the door, he goes to where Mrs. Nayeem is lecturing. She was one of the teachers that never noticed me before the accident but now knows and wears out my name with her constant pestering.

She always liked Zachariah, she uses his old projects as samples of grade A work, even when a sample for an assignment is pointless. Once I came back to the land of the living, she moved my seat up front, right underneath the board of school standards. From there, I couldn't even see her PowerPoint presentations unless I felt like snapping my neck. Well, I got tired of it a few weeks ago and switched back to my old seat without her permission.

Maybe she forgave me for what happened to her favorite student. Or maybe remembered how easy I am to forget.

Anyway, Zachariah is still milling about in front of the classroom, following the teacher as she paces in front of the whiteboard. He's hunched over, why is he doing that? It almost looks like, oh! It's the same way Mr. Pickle walks. Mrs. Nayeem turns again, and this time Zachariah hides behind her desk, as if he could be seen by her. She turns again, and this time he jumps on top of her desk. When she turns back, instead of hiding, he full-on moons her with his ghostly pale butt cheeks.

I snort and try to muffle my laughter, but the class has already turned to stare at me. I hide my face in my three-ring binder.

"They already think you're crazy, so why do you care?" Zachariah says. He's squatting next to me, so I can see his fuzzy features as clear as they can get. In my peripheral, I can see the black hair hanging in front of his dark eyes and his youthful smile. I don't say anything back to him, and I don't look at him too closely.

"Well, at least I know you can still see me."

And see him I did. In my next class, he sat on my desk, singing the lyrics to a Spanish ballad I've never heard before, making it even harder to avoid his gaze. In math, he stood in front the whiteboard, so I couldn't see the problem my teacher had asked me the answer to. In art, I couldn't sketch the bowl of fruit on display because he had laid across the table.

"Draw me like one of your French girls," he had said.

I'm glad the day is over and I can go to my aunt's house to sleep. I let myself in and am thankful that no one is home to bother me while I climb the stairs and throw myself into my bed.

"This is ridiculous," Zachariah says. "Just look at me. Do it or I'll follow you around naked."

I didn't know he could take off his clothes, I assumed they were like, fused to him or something.

"Would it really kill you to acknowledge me?"

It really wouldn't. I can see him slump against the door in defeat. It's my fault he's the way he is, I'm the one who stole his life from him. But I don't know what to do now that he's stuck with me. I've never been good at maintaining friendships, they always just...fizzle out. Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to interact with him, not just because of my aunt's threats, maybe I hope he'll just fade away like everyone else in my life.

Before I can digest that thought, the door opens, distorting Zachariah's body. Scott, my aunt's boyfriend, is leaning against the door frame. I pull my knees to my chest.

"I'm not hungry," I say quickly.

"Your aunt's working late. She'll bring something on the way home."

"Okay, thanks. I'll be down when I finish my homework."

He doesn't leave.

"Homework. Well, I can help with that."

He steps into the room, past Zachariah who now has his arms crossed.

"It's college calc, I can handle it. I'm nearly done actually." I'm not taking calculus, but he doesn't know that, he doesn't care and I don't need his GED help with any of my classes. If he was actually serious about helping me.

"So you have time then."

He comes over to my bed and sits on its edge.

"Tell him to fuck off, Alora. Now," Zachariah says from the other side of the room.

He doesn't understand. He isn't alive. He doesn't need food or a roof over his head. He doesn't have to be scared of anything. He's only been around for a few weeks, he has no idea what I've had to go through while I've been here.

"Your attitude has been stressing your aunt out. I'm trying to convince her to let you stay, but...it would be easier with you gone," he says. His hand rubs against my legs, and I hope he'll stop once he notices that I haven't shaved lately.

He doesn't.

"I'll need you to give me some inspiration for the next time I talk with her."

Zachariah fades through the door. At least he won't have to witness my shame.

Once I'm left alone, I strip the blankets and sheets from my bed to lay on the bare mattress. Zachariah comes back and sits on the floor.

"He's lying to you. You know that, right?"

I don't respond. My aunt came home a few minutes ago. I don't need her to overhear me talking to him, and I'd rather not encourage him to keep talking at me. I turn away from him and pull on my headphones.

Eventually, he'll leave me alone. I know it. Everyone does. It just takes time.

But not tonight. I didn't charge my headphones, so while they cover my ears, I can still hear Zachariah on the floor beside me.

"Let me tell you a story," he says. "It's a fairytale I read, I read a lot of fairytales, actually. This one has a happy ending, if you listen closely. It starts like all the good ones."

I begin to shut my eyes.

"Once upon a time," his voice continues as I fall into sleep.