He Called Her Angel

Ghosts

Ghosts

Chapter 32

Cassidy's POV

"Do you believe in ghosts?" my English teacher asked the class as her eagle like eyes searched for its prey among the students of the class. I learned very early on not to make eye contact when she asked questions like these. The class stood in silence as no one dared open their mouth for the fear of being torn down by Miss Harrington once again. "Fine," she said, "Since no one will like to answer my question, you have until the end of the period to write your answer and explain it thoroughly." The class grumbled in distaste, but everyone pulled out their notebooks defeated.

I pulled out my notebook and my ballpoint pen and stared at the pages blankly. How could I even begin to answer this question? Did I believe in ghosts? The student to the right of me was tapping his foot persistently while the girl to my left scribbled furiously in her notebook like if she didn't spit the words out now they would be gone forever. "Focus Cassidy," I thought to myself. I guess the first place to start is to define what I believe a ghost is. Wren popped into my mind and I shook the thought away, I had just started getting a grasp back on reality and I didn't want to go back down that rabbit hole. As Wren's faced appeared in my mind once again my idea of what a ghost is finally appeared as well.

The most common definition of a ghost is the apparition of something that was deceased and is believed to appear or manifest the living. I agree with this common definition, but I interpret it in an altered way. I don't see a ghost as a being I can feel or touch. I believe ghosts are more alive in the sense that they are living within our own memories. Someone maybe deceased, but within your mind they still breathe the life of past moments forever caught in time. As well one can be haunted by my definition of a ghost through memories that hold them back as if someone was caught in a record player within their cognizance. Now to answer the question if I believe in ghosts, the answer is yes as long as it prescribes to my own definition. Now as to why I believe, well I can say I am haunted by own definition of ghosts and there is no stronger belief then the ones that are experienced.

The day went on routinely, but every time I caught a glimpse of Carter it was as if someone was suffocating me. It had been two weeks now, two full weeks. I wish I could say I moved on, I am better off now, but it would be a lie. There is still a part of me, a fairly large part that yearns for him, that feels that desire that need to fix what was broken. Then there is the rational part of me that knows that I need to support myself and that I need to not need anyone. As much as it pains me I still have not regrets about breaking up with Carter. I do, however, have other problems that cloud my mind.

Through the past weeks the Blair household has been filled with tension as new lawyers come and go. My parents have been fighting for custody over me like to wolves fighting over some meat. While my father files claims about my mother's parental neglect she continues to use his affair to gain leverage over him. One could imagine it is a bloody mess, as the wolves tear at the meat piece by piece. I wish I had a voice in this situation, but as a registered minor my opinion seems to have no worth other then stating testimonies about the quality of parenting my mother or father provides.

The bell rang and I trudged out of the school. I was not looking forward to going to the chaos that is my home, or could I even call it home at this point. I ran my hands along the fence as I walked the familiar path that led to my neighborhood. All the sudden I felt something tear through my leggings. I stared down trying to find the source and discovered that a piece of broken wire from the fence had stabbed me. "God dammit." These were my favorite leggings. I had them for two years and I just loved the way they had made me look.