My Haunted Heart

Chapter 2

I found myself scrambling to gather my books as my eyes teared in embarrassment. Some snickers floated around the room as I glanced around sheepishly for any hope of another unoccupied seat, but to my dismay there were none. The embarrassment I felt in this small but infinite moment had bubbled into anger; I flung myself around and gave the rude but beautiful boy my best death glare, before stumbling out of the classroom and towards the nearest exit.

It was another twenty minute walk before I arrived to the house, and the entire time I felt as though someone was watching me from within the trees. As I unlocked the door, I brushed the feeling off as paranoia as I stepped into the comfort of my small, yet cozy two-story home.

Mickey wouldn't be home for another few hours; I reminded myself that he wasn't the greatest chef and so I decided to start supper. In the drawer were some pasta noodles and tomato sauce, so therefore it would be a spaghetti night. As I tossed leaves and tomatoes for the garden salad, my thoughts drifted back to the piercing glare of the boy in my English class. His appearance was unworldly; perfect pale skin, luscious dark hair, and sapphire blue eyes. His body was a chiseled statue that not even Michelangelo could recreate, and I didn't need to see him shirtless to figure that out.

The sauce was starting to boil over, and I slapped myself on the forehead for letting my thoughts wander to such weird places. But yet I couldn't get him out of my head... It was as though once I saw him, he left an imprint on my mind, like he attached himself to my brain.

While letting the spaghetti cool on the stove, I folded some clean laundry from a few days earlier. After the household chores were finished, I dragged my tired feet upstairs and flung myself onto my disheveled but comfortable bed.

The rain continued on during the day, but had deceased to a small trickle later in the afternoon. Thankfully I only missed my last class period, and I didn't want to know what Mickey would say if he found out. Maybe he'd switch me out again, making me an outcast in not one but two high schools... and counting.

Although, it wouldn't bother me to escape that place. The most beautiful person at the school seemed to hate my existence already, so everyone else would probably follow his example.

But then I remembered Lacy and Luke, and all of the friendly people who were at the cafeteria table during lunch. Lacy may not exactly be in the same category as me; her being gorgeous and utterly obsessed with reapplying her cherry red lipstick throughout the day. But she was sweet, and I needed a person like that in my life at the moment.

My ears started to focus on the ticking of the clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Sometimes I would subconsciously hum little melodies to the beat of the clock, if I was bored. But my focus was cut off by the slamming of a door downstairs, signalling that Mickey had arrived home.

Managing to get myself out of bed, I practiced a fake smile in the mirror before going downstairs. Mickey was just hanging up his uniform, and it came to my realization that I didn't really know what his job was.

"Hey kiddo," he said gruffly, while kicking off his work boots. "Hey, Dad," I managed weakly. The spaghetti was still on the stove so I heated two bowls and set them on the table, hoping that he wouldn't catch my sour mood.

Thankfully nothing was said, and we both sat down at the small wooden dinner table. "Dad, what do you even do for a living?" I asked curiously, while poking at my food uninterestedly.

Mickey chuckled. "In your sixteen years of life, you never figured out what you're father does to put food on the table?" I cringed a little, feeling bad that I was so out of touch with my father lately. "I knew, but ever since mom died I've been forgetting things," I said quietly, before sipping some milk.

"I work in the mental hospital, I'm a doctor," he said. I pondered this for a few moments, and the rest of supper went on in silence.

After cleaning up the table, Mickey slumped down on the couch to watch some television series, and I decided to throw on some pyjamas and brush my teeth early before crawling into bed with my laptop.

After logging onto Netflix, I scrolled around for a bit and, after scrolling through the horror section I settled for a movie about ghosts. I was never a fan of horror, and after twenty minutes of screaming and blood, I shut the screen of my laptop and sighed dramatically. Ghosts didn't exist anyways, so I might as well not watch stupid movies about them. My eyes fluttered shut within minutes, and I remembered how much school drained the life out of me.

Soon I fell into a dream, and I found myself standing in a large open field. The dull grass was long, and it tickled my legs. The sky above appeared bleak and white, and the only sound was the rustling of the wind between the thin blades of grass. I turned in circles, glancing around anxiously to see where I was. The grass field was infinite, making me feel insignificant and trapped. The wind was picking up speed, tugging at my hair. My heart beat frantically in my chest. This is a dream, I reassured myself, but when pinching my arm didn't wake me up fear settled into my stomach.

But then there was a still, calm voice. I looked around frantically, but nobody was there. It came as a whisper, as though it were one with the wind. "Gabriella," the voice hissed smoothly, sending chills down my spine. The wind was at full speed now; I knelt down, shutting my eyes and covering my ears with my hands instinctively. The grass whipped at me, and tears started stinging the corners of my eyes.

Suddenly, two icily cold hands touched mine. My eyes shot open and I looked up, only to realize that I had just woken up from my nightmare.

My breathing was frantic, and my skin was beaded with sweat. My eyes darted around the room, and I grabbed at my sheets for comfort. After reassuring myself three times that I was alone and safe, my ears focused on the ticking of the clock and I realized that it was almost dawn.

Rain pattered softly against the windows, and I suddenly noticed that my record player was humming classical music quietly from across the room. After backtracking the night before several times, it was clear to me that I had never turned it on before I went to sleep.

The thought unnerved me, so I ran across the room and scrambled to turn it off before running downstairs for breakfast.