"Ghost." My voice cracked, being used for the first time in weeks.
"Let go of the glass, Lex," Ghost said gently, prying it away from my fingers. He threw it onto the tracks.
"No! Give me it back!" I screeched at him, my mood suddenly doing a 180. I rushed to grab the glass but Ghost's strong arms held me back.
"Shh," Ghost soothed me. I continued to resist him.
"No! You don't get to ignore me for a month then come and be the hero. That's not how it works, it's not fair, it's not fair!" I was verging hysteria at his point, my words accompanied by tears, "I need it, I need to go. I can't do this anymore. I can't, I-
That was when I broke. My words faded and I fell to the floor. Sobs wracked my body and tears fell down my face. Ghost sunk to the floor with me, holding my now exhausted body and rocking us gently. Back and forth. Back and forth.
He's here, he's holding you. He feels sorry for you, that's all, he pity's you. This isn't care he's giving you, it's pity.
I struggled against him, desperate to get out of his grip but he stuck fast. He spoke soft, calming words to me and I eventually calmed me down. Calm enough to feel this killer headache, anyway.
This was when I finally got a proper look at him.
Ghost's hair was longer than before and messy. His eyes were dull, sunk into his skull and his cheekbones were more prominent than ever. Stubble clung to his jaw, giving him a rugged, wild look. He wore a hoodie that hung from his body, and skinny jeans that no longer clung to his legs.
How has he gotten like this in just over a month. He looks like he's been through Hell. Was it because of me? Of course it was.
He casually rolled the sleeves of his jumper back down his wrists but not before I saw them. The red lines that scored his arms, a tally of pain. Some were scabbed over whilst others looked fresh. They created a sick, painful pattern that danced up and down his arms. Darker in some places. Deeper in some places.
"Oh, Ghost." I sobbed, rolling his sleeve back up and tracing his arms. He watched my fingers, tears spilling from his eyes.
"It helped stop the thoughts. It stopped the darkness," he whispered to me. I met his gaze, my own tears flowing freely again.
"Please, stop," I begged, my hands now desperately clutching his, "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. Oh God, I'm so sorry I-"
My sentence was cut off by Ghost's lips meeting my own. He pulled away, his cobalt eyes searching mine, a small smile on his lips. I'm sure I looked absolutely starstruck.
"It's not your fault, I promise."
What happened to the carefree kids we once used to be?
YOU ARE READING
Ghost of the Past
Short Story*CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN; NEW VERSION COMING SOON* What would you do if your best friend of 15 years upped and left for the army? If they left you, knowing there's a good chance they'll be coming back home in a wooden box? How about if that best f...
