Lost at the Start

2.

When I opened my eyes, the blue walls I'd only ever seen on a screen were a much brighter shade than I remembered, and even without the overhead light on, the entire room just had a completely different air to it.

Before, it had seemed kind of boring and unassuming, dare I say marginally uninviting. Of course, it wasn't my room and I was always more focused on and therefore more interested in Jackson than the room, but still.

It was messy, but mostly just because there were various piles of clothes scattered everywhere. But it still wasn't anywhere near as bad as my disaster area of a bedroom.

At first glance, I thought I'd done something wrong; I'd managed to will myself to his room—his house, no less—but without him there.

Then Cinnamon the cat walked in the door and jumped up on the bed in front of me. And so help me, I swear that cat could see me. For a minute, all he did was watch me. I blinked slowly in a show of friendliness—unable to remember where I'd picked up that information—and Cinnamon simply gave a loud, unspectacular meow.

"Cinnamon, get back here!"

I knew that voice anywhere.

A second later, the door swung all the way open to reveal Jackson, red-faced with what I could only assume were residential tear tracks.

Just like Mei, he looked sick and about like a strong gust of wind could take what little sanity he was holding on to in light of my new, grim, permanent absence.

"Cinnamon..." He gave a frustrated sigh at the cat, running an olivine hand through his short brown hair.

The cat kept its eyes on me and I fought the urge to reach out and pet him.

Clearly, Jackson couldn't see me.

Admittedly, I was marginally disappointed. But really—what had I expected? No one at school had been able to see me. I was a ghost of sorts, after all. It wasn't like they should've been able to see me.

And yet, somewhere deep down, for whatever reason, I'd been hoping Jackson, of all people, would be the one able to see me. Or sense my presence, or something.

Logically speaking—though why I was still bothering with logic anymore was admittedly questionable—I knew him magically being able to see me wouldn't be good for either of us for so many reasons, but a part of me had hoped for it anyway.

I just...I wanted to tell him I didn't leave because of him. My decision had been mounting for a long time coming. It wasn't his fault; He'd just gotten involved with the wrong girl at the wrong time.

A selfish, selfish girl that still couldn't manage to regret dying at her own hands.

Just as I was about to really get into my private pity party, Jackson went rigid and jumped back a couple of steps, blinking feverishly.

For one shining, glorious moment, I thought I'd willed myself into being seen, but I wilted internally when I noticed his eyes still hadn't managed to focus on me. Rather, his decadent gaze searched the room for something I couldn't guess.

No, of course not. That would be too much to ask for, wouldn't it?

I let out my own exasperated sigh and, without thinking, said, "I'm so sorry it had to be this way..." while choking back tears in a hushed whisper.

"W-what the...?" Jackson's eyes darted around only to land on Cinnamon, the only option he knew was a candidate for making noise.

Cinnamon meowed again and jumped off the bed to rub against my legs, carefully stepping over my feet each time he circled around.