Fiction.

Chapter 51: Facts.

Chapter 51: Facts.

Isn’t it ironic for a ghost to be in an attic? I don’t think so since that’s where I’ve made my own little room. There was a spare room up there, a guest room that was actually used as an office for Val. But the extra bed made it my room. It wasn’t spooky up here, no chains or shackles or anything although if you looked hard enough through the house I’m sure you’ll find them. But that’s Matt and Val’s life not mine.

I lay sprawled out on the bed with my hands behind my head. To answer your question, yes ghosts do sleep. Well I do anyways but that’s just me. I lay in the same suit, the black jacket hung open as it was snug on me. I never felt heat, I’m cold and it’s not a noticeable cold but the kind that settles on your skin.

I could hear Peasnie’s loud music down stairs; she was home by herself which wasn’t out of the ordinary. Matt was away with the guys sorting out custody of Rosie’s kids with her and Val had to go away for work so that left Peasnie at home alone. She and Arin have been getting along just fine, it’s only been two weeks and they’re already having make-out sessions which I do not approve of, especially when his hands start to wander. But Peasnie knows when enough is enough and that makes me proud.

I pulled my eye brows together when the music silenced, it was barely eight o’clock she couldn’t be going to bed already. I stayed in the bed with my eyes closed until I could hear it, the loud pounding of drums in the basement. It sent me reeling to my feet and skidding down the stairs. The long narrow halls whisked past me as I ran down to the basement.

My non-beating heart jerked inside my chest when I saw her, sitting behind the drums; a completely different person. Her dark hair was shaved at the sides and bleached at the tips, it hung over to one side. She had a hoop piercing on the left side of her bottom lip. She wore her white Doc Martins, black skin tight jeans, a rainbow studded belt that was hanging from one loop loosely. She had a purple and black stripped tee shirt on with the black stars and moons on it. She wore ripped finger gloves. Her bright blue eyes were ringed with a light amount of black eye liner and eye shadow.

“Peasnie, what have you done?” I asked her carefully. She stared at the drums with almost electricity going through her eyes; she ran her fingers over the drums carefully before she sat down behind them. She sat behind the drums panting heavily, her face filled with rage and hurt. She hit those drums with everything she had, she was rusty but nothing a few lessons can’t fix. But other than that she wasn’t Peasnie Sullivan anymore, she’s Peasnie Hollows, a completely different person. It was like Peasnie had an evil twin and this was the twin that nobody really liked but was liked by the Goth kids because of how dark and hateful she was. Yeah, it’s like that.

Hearing her play the drums was like witnessing someone’s life, not the good but all the bad and darkness that came before the happiness and joy. It was like her inner demon was coming out and she was hitting speeds that not even I could manage. She played with my old sticks as well. But this was her kit; she let the guys put my old one up on display in Vegas so she got a new set. I knew exactly what song she was playing too. Gunslinger.

I stood there and watched as she played until sweat dripped from her nose and hair until she was red in the face. I could see all the anger and pain rush out of her and onto the drums quickly. I stood there watching her with the guys behind me watching in awe, they were in shock, just as much as I was. Peasnie eventually stopped, her body was covered in sweaty that were dripping like someone poured a bucket of water over her and now she’s dripping wet. She panted heavily before looking up. She didn’t say and word, not even smiled. Peasnie just got up from the drums and walked over to the guys, walking right through me. She gave them each a hug, not just a normal hug but a tight squeezy hug. I smiled proudly.