Forgotten

I - Ghost

It's almost midnight and I still haven't gone to bed. Perhaps I should. Perhaps I shouldn't. My flatmates are all partying, so I figured I might as well join in. Although, Orla and Sam  are kissing on one sofa, and Micah's playing a video game on the other sofa. Lola's busy looking for crisps in the kitchen. I wander into the hallway. I might as well get something to do from my room. I'm about to open my door when a noise makes me jump. It sounds like someone's moving my things about or something. And I'm not one for noises. I hurry through to Lola.

"Lola, there's something in my room," I whisper.

She doesn't look very amused. "Very funny, Pablo. I'm not Orla. I'm not gonna be scared of a noise."

"I'm not kidding!" I insist.

"Bet it's a ghost!" Sam jeers, grabbing my shoulders from behind.

I glare at her. "Okay, well, I'll get Micah and we'll check our room together." I storm out of the room.

"Yeah!" she calls after me, mockingly. "'Cause Micah's a big boy!"

I stop in my tracks. "All right. All right, then. I'll look myself," I snap. "And you'll--"

"We'll see there's nothing there, innit!"

"Shut up!" I snap, opening the door to the room that Micah and I share. I gasp. The window is wide open and the decorations on the windowsill have been knocked off. Our cupboards have been emptied, Micah's watch stolen along with my laptop. That's all I can see at a glance, but I'm willing to bet that there's a lot more gone. "I told you!" I yell. "I told you I heard noises! I told you to keep the windows shut! That's it, I'm packing a bag and I'm leaving! Right now!" I grab my backpack and start packing a few changes of clothes. All of my valubles will have been taken, and I've already got my phone and wallet.

"Pablo, you can't!" Lola protests. "You'll wake up tomorrow and you'll have changed your mind, I bet."

"If he changes his mind, we shouldn't let him back," Sam snaps. "He's twenty-two. He should know better."

"What's going on?" Micah asks as he and Orla come through. He sees the mess and gasps. "Someone broke in?" He hurries in and starts looking through his things.

"I'm leaving!" I announce. "You can all pay my share of the stupid rent because I am not coming back!" I take my backpack into the bathroom and stuff my toothbrush into the front pocket. Then I storm over to the front door and put my shoes and jacket on. "I'm not coming back, okay? Micah, this is your fault for leaving the window open! I'm sick of you all! Orla tidies everything just so I can't find it. Sam, you're an imbecile. I hate you, you do all you can to ruin my life."

"I'd stop if you asked!" she protests. "I like you really! You're just a bit--"

"I don't care! Lola, you're always eating my food and taking my things. You lose everything and you make this awkward. Micah--" Micah flinches as I say his name. I roll my eyes. "You're a wuss." I raise my voice again. "But you're the only decent person here! I'm leaving!" I chuck my front door key on the floor and storm out, hurrying down the stairs and out into the back alley.

The back alley has some pretty awful rumours, but despite all of that, I still think it's a really good shortcut to get to the bus stop, and I don't know where I'm going, so I definitely don't want to go the long way round. I stop in my tracks, halfway down the alley and bite my lip. I don't know where I'm going. I curse myself silently for running out like that when I had no idea of where I might go or where I could sleep. My parents passed away when I was little, and I have no family members that I know about who I could go to, so my flat is my only realistic option that I could go to. I turn around to go back to the flat, trying my very hardest not to care about my pride that will inevitably be completely and utterly destroyed.

Someone drives a knife deep into my chest.

I fall to the floor, the air being forcibly knocked out of my chest. I can't feel any pain, really. All I can feel is fear. Is he going to kill me? Or is he just going to stand there? He stares at me in horror, looking at the knife in my chest. Then he pulls it out and blood spills everywhere. All over my clothes. The pain is excruciating, like acid eating away at my flesh. It lasts for a few more awful moments, and then it stops.

It just stops. 

Utterly and completely. No pain whatsoever.

My attacker stares at me for a second. Then he spins around and runs. I follow my instincs and chase him. I reach out and grab his arm. But I don't. My hand goes right through his arm. Is he a ghost or something? I grab a stone from the floor and throw it at him. It hits his ankle and he falls completely over. He scrambles to his feet and stumbles around the corner. So, I can't touch him, but things I throw can? I grab another rock and run after him. I catch up with him and throw the rock with all my strength. It narrowly misses his head. He runs out across the main road and I run after him. A loud noise catches my attention and I stop in my tracks, turning around just in time to see a car before it reaches me. It doesn't hit me, though. It literally goes right through me, then it veers off to the side and stops at the edge of the road. Maybe the driver saw me and panicked. I hurry out of the road and knock on the driver's window three times. He looks confused and doesn't seem to notice me. I knock again. He stares out of the window. Maybe he's a bit confused. I go around to the other side and knock on the girl's window. She screams. The man starts his car again and drives off quickly. I stand still, confused. What was up with the car? And the way that man looked at me... What if they were ghosts, too? I race back down the alleyway. I should get my bag before anyone steals it. The straps must have broken when I fell. When I fell. When I was stabbed. That's not right. I'm up and about. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe there was something in my drink. Or maybe it just was my drink. I only had one beer, though. Surely that shouldn't have messed with my head at all. Maybe Sam laced it with something. That'd be just like like her. I get back to where I left my backpack. I yell in shock. There's a body. Someone's been stabbed.

"Are you okay?" I gasp, crouching down and grabbing his wrist, desperately trying to find his pulse. I look for my backpack, but I can't see it anywhere. "Help!" I yell. "Someone call an ambulance! He's been... stabbed in the chest..." I trail off. Maybe I experienced what he did in some sort of weird way. Like some sort of mind-link. Or not. Or maybe we're the... same person... I take a deep breath and brush his hair away from his face. He has a lot of curly brown hair. Like me. His face is splattered with blood, so I wipe it away with the side of his jacket and look at his face. He's me. That's my body. I stumble backwards in disbelief. I can't be dead. I'm still here. I look at my chest. Covered in blood from the stab wound. I hold my hand up to the streetlight. I can see the streetlight through my hand. I bite my lip. This can't be real. This really can't be real. It is real, says the nagging voice in my head.

I'm dead.

I'm a ghost, now.