Ghostly, Yours

October 29th

I finished the day in a daze, unable to stop thinking about the strange boy I'd encountered - that is if I hadn't hallucinated the whole thing. I'd given the coffee to Jim, one of the more troubled boys in the facility. He was very nice, but that was his coping mechanism. Sometimes, he seemed like a normal kid. If anything, just a kid you'd met on the street. However, Jim has been abused by both his parents before they were shot right in front of him.

By each other.

I tried not to think of either subject as I exited the building with a smile on my face. There was no one else there as per usual. I was usually the one who locked up because I stayed late to make sure everything was done properly. Well, I also tuck in Steven every night. So yes, I work weekends too. Steven has suffered a lot of trauma too, but I really don't feel like going into detail about his past. All I can say is that he needs me to tuck him in before he can sleep.

As I locked to door, I pulled up my hood and prayed that I'd make it home before I was turned into a human popsicle. I saw one of the night workers turn into the alley to use the back door to get in, as they usually did. I'm pretty sure they just slept through their shifts if I was being honest, but at least someone is there.

As I crossed the same intersection that I'd first seen the boy at, I thought I saw him lurking behind the curtain of snow. I paused and focused on the light shadow, but it disappeared soon after. I frowned and kept walking, figuring that I'd imagined it.

Hardly any cars were out in this weather at 8:00 PM. It was peaceful. Well, as peaceful as it could be in the middle of a snowstorm. I finally arrived at my apartment which wasn't too far from my work, but it felt like ages in this weather.

I jammed my key into the front door of the building and shuffled in hurriedly. As I got up to my room, I pushed open my door. I couldn't really lock it properly because it was kind of broken, but I couldn't afford to fix it so I just hoped that no one would rob someone with no expensive belongings.

I shut my door behind me and used the chain lock that was only useful when I was inside. The old yellow wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the carpet smelled vaguely of cat pee, but it was home. I took off my shoes and headed to the kitchen. I smiled reminiscently and opened my fridge. The door creaked and jerked as I opened it, but I ignored it and pulled out a jar of pickles. Grabbing a fork, I took a seat on my one comfy chair and started eating them out of the jar.

"That's fucking disgusting," someone said from beside me, nearly making me drop my pickles. Thankfully, I caught them mid-air and held them close to my chest for some sort of comfort. I looked around frantically, seeing no one.

"Over here," the voice spoke again. My head whipped in the direction of the voice and my eyes landed on the now-familiar boy from earlier. His hair didn't seem windswept at all from the wind which was curious, but I didn't question it. However, it did look a little soft.

"What are you doing in my apartment?" I asked him, looking around nervously.

"I don't know, chilling?" He replied, walking around. "When did you move in?" He eyed the limited furniture and six moving boxes in the living room.

"Two years ago," I muttered sheepishly. "How did you get in?" He pointed to the door, meaning my sad excuse of a lock.

"Oh," was all I said.

"Well, it helps that I can walk through walls," he added, shoving his hands in his dark pockets. I chuckled slightly at his joke before noticing his serious expression. "What?" He questioned, looking at me confusedly.

"What do you mean, 'what?'," I replied, taking another bite of my pickle. He visibly cringed as I did so.

"Do you think I'm joking? I thought you'd be a psychic or something," he stated, crossing his arms over his broad chest. I didn't know what to say so I stayed silent. I felt unsure about having a man I'd just met inside my apartment, but what could I do? There was also some part of me that wanted to know more about him. Then he rolled his eyes and lifted his arm. After that, he extended his arm and stuck it through the wall. I gaped and stared at him, hardly breathing.

"Moron," he muttered before taking his arm out of the wall quickly. He shook his arm before rolling it in its joint.

"But— wall?" I couldn't form a coherent sentence. Instead, held my pickles in my arm and stood up, walking over to him. He didn't move, he didn't even take a step backward, he just stood there and watched me with a calculating look.

As I came nearly face to face with him, minus the height difference, my hand darted out and shot through his body. It was like nothing, literally. He was just a pile of air. I waved my hand through him back and forth but nothing happened. There was a slight resistance as if what was happening wasn't possible - which it wasn't. I looked up with an amazed smile on my face, only to find him glaring down at me. I immediately took my hand out of his— space and dropped it by my side.

"Sorry," I murmured, still awestruck at what was happening. I was 70% sure that I was hallucinating, but I was enjoying it. "What are you?"

"Seriously? Is it not self-explanatory?" He snapped, rolling his eyes, clearly frustrated. When I showed no interest in responding, he sighed exasperatedly. "Wow, being visible is overrated. I'm a ghost, bitch."