Haunt Me

Prolouge

It was a cold, stormy October night. Although, I couldn't tell you what day it was, or what time it was. All I know is the stars were shining, and the storm was raging. I, Katherine Sweet, was practicing with my band at a hotel we were staying at. We had a concert the next day, and we just wanted to make sure we got our stuff straight. I was the drummer, although I would much rather prefer to be a guitarist. Ivan's the guitarist, though. And he's pretty good at it.

At the end of practice, Ivan huffs out a breath, his fingers clenching into fists and unclenching at his sides. He slides his guitar so the strap hangs on his shoulder.
"I'm gonna go out for a smoke." He says gruffly. "Maybe we should practice a little more. You know, so someone can get it right." He adds, glaring directly at me.
He's always had a problem with me, I never knew why. Although, him and my little sister kind of hit it off for a while. My little sister, London, was only two years younger than me, Ivan was a year older. They were both of age, and it was only a three year age gap. They haven't been around each other much lately, and I'm pretty sure I heard London crying in her room for a few nights since we entered October.
Maybe it is later in October...
Ivan walks out of the room we are playing in, the door shutting with a click behind him. I sigh, setting my sticks down on top of the drums.
"I think he's just tired." Austin, the singer of the group, speaks.
"Maybe, but I'm going to see what his problem is." I say, rising to my feet.
"Just... be careful." Austin says, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "He's been on edge these past few weeks."
I nod, giving Austin a warm smile. He's always been the most inviting.

I make my way up the hotel steps, my boots digging into the reddish, greenish carpet. I push open the metal door that takes me to a long hallway of hotel rooms. I believe his room number is 278...
I find the room and knock. No answer. I decided to text Austin and ask for Ivan's room number.
I get a text back a few moments later, confirming that this is definitely his room. I knock again, refusing the back down. After a few more persistent knocks, I finally hear heavy footsteps approaching the door.
The door swings open, and there he is.
He stands in his ripped, dark blue jeans, his black t-shirt that hugs his slim body, and his disheveled black hair. His dark, brown eyes stare down at me with a glare. I walk straight in.
He lets out a groan and walks to the balcony of his hotel room. He pulls out a cigarette pack and sticks the white part of the stick between his lips. One hand covers the stick from the wind while the other lights the cigar and smoke immediately comes out of the end. He inhaled, his cheeks hollowing as he did. He puffs it out, the ring of smoke mixing with the rain and wind and swirling around his head. He looks so angry, so mad at the world. Like he's been utterly betrayed by everything and everyone. I take a step closer.
"Will you spit it out so you can get out?" Ivan says through gritted teeth.
I pull my eyebrows tightly together.
"What is your problem?" I ask, clenching my hands into fists. "What did I ever do to you?"
"You didn't do anything," Ivan says, taking another long drag of his cigarette before dropping it over the balcony.
"You exist, you're... you." He says, his voice low and monotoned. "And it's infuriating. You're so cheerful, so optimistic, everyone loved you from the first moment you step into that room." He begins to take steps towards me, and I take a few steps back, trying to put some distance between us.
"Everyone was so excited when we got a new drummer, especially Austin, and it's been months, but I see nothing that they see." His voice grows colder as he continues to walk towards me.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I always tried. I always tried so hard, but it was never enough for certain people. But I know I can be good, I can be great.
"Well, maybe if you would just give me a chance, you could see i'm trying just as hard as you!" My face feels hot, my stomach tightening with unease.
"I don't need to give you a chance, Katherine. I know exactly what I see." I'm backed into a wall, Ivan looming over me.
"You're not a real musician," he says coldly. "You're just a pretty face with a drum set. You have no real skill, and it's fucking annoying." He spits out the last few words, and the tightening of unease in my stomach grows tighter. I feel tears threatening to spill over my eyes lids, but I try to resist. I'm angry, I'm hurt, I'm... I don't even know.
"So, what are you gonna do? Make Austin kick me out?" I say, my voice catching in my throat. My words are wobbly and pathetic.
"I don't need to make him do anything." He lips quirk into a sneer, his eyes growing dark. It's scary.
"I can do it myself."