Forgotten

IV - Anger

Pablo

"Micah, I'm not sure about this," I announce. "I'm a ghost. Even if they believe me, they'll be scared. It's a bad idea."

"It'll be fine," he promises, starting a new level on his game. Zombies rush out of an animated building towards his character, who dramatically draws her sword.  We're waiting in our room for the others to get back from the cinema, so Micah's been playing video games as usual.

I point at the screen, grinning. "That one looks a bit like me. With the wound and all that."

"I guess," he laughs, smashing the buttons on his controller. His character swings her sword, knocking some zombies flying. 

"Why are you playing as a girl?" I ask.

"She's the strongest. In this bit of the game, you really rely on your character's strength. Some are better at navigating forests, some have more stamina and magic, but she's by far  the strongest. Oh, and there's this one old guy. He looks pretty weak, but he's not. Once you get to the second quest, you find out that he's secretly a powerful--" Micah breaks off at the sound of a door opening. He pauses his game. "They're back. Come on." He puts the controller down and hurries into the hallway. I walk through after him, knocking over a glass of water when I reach the hallway. 

"Careful!" Sam laughs, her words alarmingly slurred. "Micah's breakin' stuff, Orla!" she laughs. Orla and Lola come in, looking exhausted.

"Hiya," Micah says, sheepishly. "She drunk?"

"No, I've barely drank anything compared to last time!" she giggles.

"Perhaps now might be a bad time to tell them that I'm dead," I advise, kicking over the coat hanger.

"Whoa, what was that?" Lola gasps, picking it back up again. "Micah, have you been messing with mousetraps again or something?"

"Erm, yeah," he mumbles, casting awkward glances at me. I throw a shoe at him. "Ack!" he exclaims. 

"What the heck is going on, Micah?" Orla yells.

"Yeah," Sam nods. "You're got 'it in t' face..."

"Oh, just tell them," I sigh. "Let's go into the living room and I'll knock or something."

"Can you stop, please?" he whispers. "Please? They'll think I'm mad."

Lola takes his arm and pulls him into the living room. She sits him down on the sofa and sits down next to him. Orla sits with Sam on the other sofa who quickly falls asleep. Lola looks Micah in the eye. "What's going on?"

I lift the bottle of lemonade and tip it out over the table. Orla screams. I throw it at her. "That's your fault for not being able to see me!"

Micah grimaces. "Pablo, please stop. Please," he whispers under his breath, rubbing his eyes.

"Pablo?" Lola echoes. "What are you not telling me?" 

I grab Sam's pen from her diary and a piece of paper from the stack on the shelf. I scribble the words "I'm dead" in capitals across the page. Orla screams again. "Remember me," I write. I write it again. And again. And again. Orla buries her face in Sam's shoulder.

"Micah, you'd better explain everything. Right now!" Lola shouts.

"Nothing's going on!" he snaps, screwing the paper up into a ball. I throw the pen at him. "Stop!" he hisses. He raises his voice. "Everyone leave the room!" He glares at me and lowers his voice. "Everyone but you." 

"Micah, what the heck is going on?" Orla demands. 

"Nothing," he seethes. "Nothing! Please, just leave!"