Staggering a little while walking out of the pub at closing time, Hailey drove with windows down and the radio blasting pop music. Luckily, her home wasn't far, and the road was pretty deserted at this hour.
Jake rushed to her help when she tripped on the stairs leading to the front terrace. He sat her down on the couch in the over-brightened living room.
"Can I get you a glass of water?"
Hailey kicked her heels off across the wall and stood up.
"No, I want you to leave my house right now."
"What"
"I fucking warned you not to approach her through me, and you shoved the most vital piece of information right up your arse."
"What are you talking about? I never told her anything about you or me. I didn't even tell my name."
"You fucking CALLED ME. CAMILLE SAW YOUR NAME AND PICTURE ON MY PHONE, AND I HAD to beg for mercy from that pathetic little crazy loser. I have a reputation, Jake, and you have crushed it."
"Hailey, you are drunk and overreacting."
The tears in her eyes started dripping down her cheeks.
"No. I am hurting. I have worked hard to get where I am today without crushing my self-respect or ego, unlike you, who waste your life chasing ghosts. I never beg Jake. I never apologise BECAUSE I NEVER DO ANYTHING WRONG."
She paused, exhaling hard and muttered, "Thanks to you, I had to do it today."
"Hailey-"
"No, Jake, you get out of my property, or I'm calling 999 for trespassing."
"You are drunk. Let me help you."
"The single way you can help is by not showing me your face until this disgrace of me begging Camille Martin not to ruin my life is gone. Get out."
Mortified, he added, "All right, I'm going. I called because I cooked your favourite dinner and wanted to eat together like a family for one last night before I go home tomorrow."
"Spare me the emotional shit and get lost. Oh, and do take whatever you have cooked with you. It's poisonous to me," Hailey ranted and strolled in the kitchen.
It's the alcohol that spurred all the nonsense coming out of her mouth. Still, it pierced Jake's heart like a sword. He had never witnessed a similar anger before. She snapped sometimes, but not as deadpan as this one.
Jake packed the dinner he would have to eat for three days, a bag pack and his small suitcase.
When he arrived downstairs, Hailey sat at the kitchen island, head on the table, snoring. No matter what happened, Jake pitied her. He put his bags down and carried his sister to her bedroom. He laid her in the middle of the bed in case she would slip.
Covering her with the duvet, he kissed her forehead and turned on a dim light.
Closing the door, Jake walked to a park near the beach. He settled on a bench, using his bag as a pillow. The sun will rise in a few hours anyway. His jacket should keep him warm from the mild breeze. He could layer with another one if it gets too cold.
When he pulled his phone out, his sleep vanished upon reading this new message.
Hi, this is Camille Martin. Your sister gave me your number, and I decided that I would like to meet you.
Jake grinned. Hailey is either complicated or bipolar, though he didn't expect he would find out soon.
Hi Camille. Thank you for believing in me.
The succeeding message didn't delay to arrive.
I had doubts that it could be a ghost. Who, I could not figure out. The thing is, I already have a nickname from my neighbours. Crazy Camille
It was way worse than Jake had anticipated. She already reached the stage of embarrassment like him when he said he saw his grandpa.
'Oh, you think of him too much, Jake. It's your innocent love towards him. That's why you imagine you see him,' quoted his criminal mother a few months after his grandfather's death.
He took a deep breath and typed something that might bring a smile to her face.
You are not crazy, Camille. You are Cherubic Camille
I wish I'd been smart enough to know the meaning.
Jake laughed again.
It means angelic.
Now, he is flirting. Heat rushed to his cheeks. The following message arrived seven minutes later. Jake could swear she is blushing or tears of happiness or contemplating that he is one big flirt.
Where can we meet?
He cannot choose a place that's tacky, sexy, crowded, expensive or cheap, as the first impression matters. Then again, he has never given much consideration about place with his previous clients before. Their ages might have played a role considering the youngest one happened to be a ten-year-old boy haunted by a pensioner who had slit his wrist, swearing he'll destroy everyone. He has to be exorcised by a priest, as Jake couldn't do much.
Okay, here we go.
Coffee shop
Her response arrived a minute later.
I am pretty sure there are over 100 coffee shops in the county.
Jake smacked his forehead and exhaled hard before typing.
Utopia has lovely outdoor seating.
Okay, will eleven work for you? I'm not free later.
Jake planned on sleeping till late. Nonetheless, someone needs him ASAP. He offered to help Camille first.
Sure, it's good.
Perfect, good night, Jake.
Goodnight Camille
He looked forward to the next day, but Camille Martin never arrived.
YOU ARE READING
Three Knocks | ongoing
Horror"I realised the problem was never in the place I stayed. The problem was in me. Wherever I go, I hear the three knocks." Camille Martin hears it day and night. Therapy and medicines no longer work on her. She has hit rock bottom, losing everything a...
