Poltergeist || Muke

Haunting

[Trigger warning: talk of murder and suicide in this chapter so please don't read if you are sensitive to these topics]

"Hand me that stack of CD's Ash," I muttered, as we sat at the counter, pricing music.

It was a Friday, and strangely a slow day which gave us a lot of time to chat. I was taking that as a blessing and a curse.

"Calum told me your house is haunted by a demon, Michael. Care to explain?" Ashton tapped his long fingers on the counter while I priced old records.

"I told him not to. And I have a question about that actually."

"Did you reconsider my offer? About getting rid of it? I can perform an exorcism if you'd like."

I turned to him. "That's the thing I was going to ask you about. I've got a question."

He huffed. "Sure Michael, what is it?"

"If you perform an exorcism on a demon, what happens to them? Where do they go?"

Ashton grinned. "Right back to Hell, where they belong. Satisfying, right? Knowing that you're sending them back to the place they deserve to be."

I swallowed, trying to ignore the lump in my throat.

"No." I whispered. "No. That can't happen. No."

Ashton laughed a bit. "It's a fucking ghost Michael, are you friends with it or something?"

"Dammit Ashton!" I yelled, causing several customers to snap their heads towards us with alarmed expressions. "I'm not letting that fucking happen!"

Ashton backed away from me defensively with his hands up. "Woah Mikey. Chill out okay?"

I looked down, realising I was clenching the pricing gun so hard my knuckles were white. I slowly placed it on the counter.

"Sorry," I muttered, avoiding Ashton and the customers stares. "I don't want any exorcisms in my house, okay?"

Ashton raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, but Calum said–"

"I don't give a shit what Calum said. Nothing is happening in that house without my permission and that's final."

Ashton sighed and ran his fingers through his dark blonde hair. "Whatever you say Michael, but you're going to regret your decision. I hope you know that."

"I'm fine with whatever decision I end up making. Because it's my choice. Not Calum's. Not yours," I retorted.

He shook his head. "Well if I can't help you get rid of your ghost, maybe I can help you find out who he is? Since he doesn't know."

I sighed in relief. "That would be great, thanks. His name is Luke H. And he's in his early twenties I think."

Ashton opened his computer and we sat behind the register, typing "Luke H, city of Rockland" into Google.

A news article popped up, with a grainy photo of a blonde haired, blue-eyed boy.

My mouth was dry as I read the title of the news article.

"Luke Hemmings (19) kills own family of 4, then kills himself outside his own home.

"No." I whispered numbly, my eyes glazing over the webpage.

Ashton glanced at me with confused eyes and continued to read the article.

"Luke Hemmings, a 19 year old college Sophomore killed his family inside childhood home on September 15th, 2014.

"That's the day I moved in," I choked out.

Ashton gave me a concerned glance and kept reading.

"Luke Hemmings was admitted to having several violent anger outbursts. During the time he wasn't having angry outbursts, he was described as a 'smart, fun-loving college student,' who was in his second year of studying business."

But on the fateful day of September 15, Hemmings entered his home with an AK 47 assault rifle and started to fire upon his parents and brothers with no warning during a family sit-down dinner.

Police were called by the neighbors, who heard the shots, however it was too late as Hemmings stood on the porch, covered in the blood of his family. One witness said his last words were, "See you in Hell," before taking a pistol out of his jacket pocket and placing it in his mouth–"

"Don't read anymore," I sobbed, holding my head in my hands. I couldn't believe it. Luke Hemmings, that's who was living in my house.

I remember- he was all over the news, his face plastered on every public surface available. Nobody was to forget the shooting that had happened only a few towns over from my college.

But was it really him? Yes, Luke did have outbursts at times, but he was the type to cuddle with you when you were sad, and make your lunch and call you cute names while kissing your neck.

"I'm going home," I said, barely managing to push those three words out of my throat. I felt nauseous and dizzy.

"Michael, I'm doing an exorcism," Ashton called as I stumbled to my car, getting sick on the side of the road.

I tried blasting Metallica on the way home, but words and phrases of the dreaded article weaved through my brain.

"Smart, fun-loving"

"See you in Hell"

"Several violent anger outbursts"

I made it to the front door of my house before blacking out.

And the words still didn't leave my head.