Fake Fiancée

9. Misguided Ghosts

9. Misguided Ghosts

"'Cause I'm just one of those ghosts, travelling endlessly." - Paramore

I could still feel the burning blush in my cheek as I held the ends of my dress while I walked up the stairs to our crappy apartment. The light in the stairway flickered and once again I wished the elevator still worked.

Thank the lord, our apartment was on the third out of fifteen floors in our apartment building and I was on our floor already. The fading white doors welcomed me and I sighed when the familiar smell of food and cigarettes filled my nostrils. Home, sweet, home.

I took out my key from the small bag which Harry or should I say Harry's management paid for, but the key wouldn't budge no matter how violently I shook it. I let an exasperated groan as I knocked on the door and called for my mother but nothing.

Where could she be this later at night?

The stairs going down weren't as hard work as going up and in just a few minutes I was down. I slowly made my way to the building owner room and took a deep breath when I reached the door. I hated coming here. The guy who we paid rent to was a fifty year old drunk who always acted like a complete pervert In front of me.

I told myself to suck it up as I knocked quietly on his door. There was a bang inside, a lot of ruffling, and before I knew it the door was swung open.

There he stood in his disgusting grace. He always wore sunglasses because he was constantly getting a black eye, his mustache was as greasy as his messy hair, and his top wasn't big enough to cover his entire gigantic belly.

But it wasn't his revolting look that threw me off guard; it was the small amount of white powder that still was attached to his mustache and his nose. He was on drugs.

I ignored the way my stomach tightened and my eyes widened at the sight. I ignore the feeling I tried to push away for so long. I ignored the temptation to just run inside and grab his drugs and inhale them all until Harry, my mom, my situation, my problems disappeared. Until I disappeared.

"Hello?" He snapped me out of my thought as he ran his hand in front of my eyes. "Wadaya want?" His rough voice asked.

"My apartment, it's locked, did you change the lock you old shit," I groaned, trying to keep my eyes away from the drug close to his face.

"No rent no house." He said, putting both his hands up before they hid behind the door and he almost shut it on my face. I rose my hand up in an instant and stopped it from crashing into my face.

"What the fuck do you mean?!" I pushed into the door, letting myself in. He rolled his eyes at me and turned around, walking deeply inside his messy room.

It smelled like Cheetos and old socks in here, that apart from the distrusting alcohol but I was already used to that one.

"Where's my mom Rick?"

He sat in one of his couches and put his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. "I dunno. She left after I told her to fuck out of my building."

My eyes opened wide just at the image of the tears brimming in her eyes, she's sick, where the hell could she go this late at night. He knew about her condition, that's what pissed me off more, and as hard as it is to admit my mom actually dated him when I was about fourteen.

I hated him. I always have, he always tried to touch me when she didn't look but thank god they broke up. I never had the guts to tell my mom of what he tried to do; surprisingly he looked cleaner back then. I was angry now; he knew about her problems and let her go like that.