Clockwork

Chapter Two

My chest felt lighter now. I felt as if I were hovering above myself.

Maybe because it was true.

I looked down at my mangled body, my face, expressionless.

You couldn't even tell I was ever alive in the first place. I was surprised when I didn't feel sick, but then I remembered, spirits cannot feel.

I looked back at the three story house behind me. It was his house.

Vengeance struck through my empty veins. This was my moment.

This is where the haunting began.

I never pictured being a ghost would be this close to being alive. I always pictured it like in movies: Floating around on air, moving through walls, but it was much more scary. Only because it was closer to reality.

I crept to the front of his house. The front door was completely black- like his soul. I remembered the first time I saw that door. That was the last time I seen the outside world. I never liked being outdoors, but after three months of torture, being locked in a basement, and now death, the outdoors seemed wonderful, even though it's pitch black. The smell of the autumn air was reviving. I've never felt more alive, which is ironic.

I looked around the neighborhood. It looked so familiar.

Aberdeen, Maine.

Then I realized that my family and I use to live here when I was young. Now we only live a few towns over.

I looked down the road. This is Russell Avenue.

Who use to live on Russell Avenue? I asked myself.

Names swirled around my decaying brain until one really stood out.

Santana, I thought.

Santana Jones.

I went to school with him when I was younger. We were best friends. Of course we were both traumatic, quiet, bully targets, but that's why we got along so well.

God I missed him...

Was I allowed to say that?

Who cares. I'm dead anyway.

I was half tempted to walk through Santana's front door before my murderer's, but I needed to ruin his night, and maybe haunt him until he's dead.

I had all eternity to visit Santana, but why did it even matter. He couldn't see me anyway.

He probably forgotten me like everyone else.

I peeked through the window on his porch, the lights were all off.

I jerked on the door handle to open it, thinking it was locked, but it wasn't. I'm going to make him wish he had locked it.

I pushed open the door slowly. It creaked until it was stopped by a nearby wall, like in scary movies. I've always wanted to do that.

I lightly stepped into his house. The smell of death was clearly in the air, or maybe that was just me...

I heard a loud bang come from the bathroom. I jumped. He came stumbling out with a some sort of alcoholic beverage in one hand, and a knife in the other.

I noticed that it wasn't just any knife either. I'd recognize that knife anywhere. It was the knife that ended my life.

I felt frightened. Why, I didn't know. Was he working on his next victim?

"Who's there?" he asked in a- clearly- intoxicated tone.

He was stumbling toward me. I moved out of the way while he stared outside the open door. He began to laugh.

"You think I'm stupid or something?" he yelled.

I stared, confused. Maybe I didn't even have to drive him insane.

"Joey, I know you're out there, man. It ain't funny." The sound of his voice made me flinch.

He let out another drunk laugh and closed the door, stumbling back into the bathroom, forgetting to lock it once again.

I smiled and walked over to the door. I turned the nob and pushed it back open, making it slam against the wall again.

He yelled, startled obviously, and ran back into the kitchen where I sat on the dinning room table, laughing uncontrollably.

"Joey," he yelled. "This ain't funny. I'll kick your ass next time I see you!"

This time, he finally locks the door. I cover my mouth, laughing hysterically.

He eyes the door and backs up slowly to the bathroom again.

I hop off the table and unlock the door, pushing it louder against the wall.

"What the hell?" he yells, running out of the bathroom, tripping over his feet. I smile as I feel the power of my vengeance take over. It hasn't even been an hour and he's already showing signs of madness.

He's afraid. I can feel it. I like that feeling.

I see him shaking as he creeps over to the door, twisting the nob slowly, checking to see if it was still locked. I saw his eyes widen.

I smile. Payback's a bitch.

"I must've forgot to lock it again," he said.

Try to convince yourself, but it won't happen. It will all work out in the end.

He shut the door, locking it again. I was bored with the door trick. I wanted to be outside.

I opened the door one last time, just for laughs, and this time I slammed it so hard that a picture frame fell off the wall.

I enjoyed this.

I laughed as I heard him scream again, and I ran for the backyard.

I looked back down in my grave. Insects still crawled where my body was. I quickly looked away.

I then felt a tiny tap on my shoulder.

I whipped around, terrified, but it was only a little girl.

"Anna?" I asked quietly.

She nodded.

I bent down so I was more her height.

"It's okay, Anna. I'm Quinn, remember?"

"Were you in the house too?" she asked.

I struggled to find the words.

"Yes, I was..."

"Have you seen the bad man today? He listens."

Her words gave me cold chills.

"What do you mean?" I asked in a calm voice.

She pointed at the house.

"He has something of mine, and I want it back," she said slowly.

I thought of my locket.

"Yeah, he has something of mine too. We'll get it back," I paused. "I promise."