I stop at the river on the way back, and Sam is there before his name even leaves my lips. I hesitate at first, not wanting to knock the smile off his face. But then I catch a glimpse of his house between the trees, and my resolve hardens. I square my shoulders and take a breath, preparing to deliver the speech I’d rehearsed in my head on the way over.
“Sam, I’m sorry, but I have to do something. I didn’t just fall down a river bank, I was murdered and my parents will never know. Nakia will tell them she doesn’t know where I am. She’ll lie to them, and they’ll go crazy thinking I’m missing. I need to find someway to get closure.”
Sam looks crestfallen, but after a second he nods. “I understand.”
I feel terrible, but I’m resolved too. “I’ll be back here soon. I promise. I just have to…I don’t know. I have to do something. Then we’ll go, we’ll cross over together. Okay?”
“Okay.” He looks resigned. “What are you planning on doing?”
I falter, not wanting to say that I have no idea. “I…don’t know. I want to contact my parents somehow, but no one can hear me. I want them to know what happened to me. I want them to know Caleb is guilty.”
He shrugs helplessly. “I never tried to contact anyone. I guess, some ghosts do. I think it has to do with how badly they want…” he trails off at the look on my face, “I’m not saying you don’t want to communicate with your parents. It just might take awhile. You’re still really new to this.”
“No kidding,” I mutter.
“Maybe you can teach yourself how.” He frowns. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help in that aspect. I sort of just get the general gist of it. If you haunt one place and concentrate all your energy on it, then you may be able to contact them somehow…” he looks unhappy. “...but that takes time.”
“I’ll find a faster way,” I say firmly. “Don’t worry. I promise I’ll come with you, but I have to at least try before that. I can’t just leave it like this.” I straighten up, suddenly struck by an idea, “maybe…maybe I can find some evidence of my death at Caleb’s house. My dad is bound to go over their eventually, if there’s evidence…”
Sam looks doubtful. “What will you do if you find some?”
I wave him away. “I don’t know yet, but it’s a start. I’m going to go over there…” I stop abruptly, whirling back to him, suddenly afraid he’ll give up on me and leave while I’m gone. That he’ll leave me all alone.
“Will you wait? I want to go with you…I really do.”
Sam smiles. To my surprise he reaches out and brushes my hair back. His finger tips send tingles across my skin. “I’ve been waiting for you for seven years, Bree. I’m not about to stop now.”
I can’t stop thinking about Sam, even as I re-enter the house where I was killed. He’s waited for me all these years. What does that mean? Is he really so attached to me? The thought makes my mouth dry and the skin on my cheeks prickle with heat. Does Sam love me? Why else would he wait for seven years? Then again, maybe he was just afraid to cross over by himself. Part of me says I should go back to him. I should just turn around and go to him, cross over with him.
But I can’t. I can’t just cross over without doing something. They can’t be allowed to get away with what they did to me.
Holding my breath, I melt through the front door. The living room is pretty much in shambles. Plastic beer cups litter every available surface, and there are yellowy puddles of beer on the floor and unidentifiable brown-orange stains.
Caleb is sitting in the middle of the saggy brown couch. He stares listlessly at the TV in front of him, eyes glassy. He’s clutching a beer in one hand, and a large brown stain marks the front of his t-shirt. It reminds me of the blood that stained him last night. My stomach roils in disgust. How could I have ever thought he was good looking? How could I have ever let him kiss me?
Memories flood past, making my face heat up. We did more than kiss. I shut my eyes and order myself to stop thinking about it. Stop picturing it. I can’t believe I let him… and then he did this. Did he ever really like me at all? What was he thinking during those moments? Had he thought how disgusting I was? That I was fat and awkward? That my breasts weren’t as perky as they should be? He must have just pretended to be attracted to me. When we were in bed did he pretend I was Nakia? I let him have my virginity. My stomach lurches and for a moment I hunch forward, stomach heaving, hot tears burning my eyes. I wretch noisily, and my throat hurts but nothing comes up. Breathing heavily I straighten up. I can do this. I keep repeating it.
I stand in front of him, and he watches TV through me. It’s surreal that he doesn’t even see me right in front of him, or sense my presence. I wish my eyes were laser beams so I could burn him to a crisp. How can he possibly be watching TV while my body is flowing down river, being swept out to sea? How can he live with himself?
The low murmur of the TV is the only noise in the house. All the partygoers have cleared out, even Larry and his henchmen. I leave the living room and go into the kitchen. The hanging lamp is on above the kitchen table, bathing a still figure in sickly yellow light. There, surrounded by empty beer cans and bottles, with her head down on the table, is Nakia. The oven clock’s neon glare tells me that it’s five o’clock in the morning. Five o’clock, and my ex-best friend is sitting there, her elbows on the table, her face buried in her arms. Her blonde hair is lying in a pool of beer. She doesn’t move. I stare at her, wishing she’d never moved into this house with that jack ass, wishing she’d never called me and invited me over to her house- warming party two months ago, wishing I hadn’t seen Caleb and fallen into lust right on the spot. Why had I been so stupid?
I think of all the things Nakia and I have done together. The party we threw when my parents went away last year, and how she’d tried to set me up with nearly every boy at the party. How she would always smack me if I said anything bad about myself, or declared I was never going to get a real boyfriend. I smile a little, thinking of all the ridiculous things she dragged me into. She was fun and, I had though…loyal. My smile twists, and a sob rises in my throat. I shove it down and glare at her, anger collecting, building up a steam until I have to curl my hands into fists to get them to stop shaking. How could she do this to me? How?
Nakia looks dead. I move closer, looking for life. A stir of blonde hair from her breath, a twitch of an arm. Nothing. Maybe she drank herself into oblivion. I jump when she suddenly raises her head. Her eyes are puffy and red. Not drunk then, just miserable. Does she regret all of this now? I hover between anger and sadness, not sure if I want to kill her, or if I just feel sorry for her. Her lips are moving, I can’t hear what she’s saying. Moving closer I make out the words,
“This is a nightmare.”
Sure is, sweetheart. Sure is.
Nakia drags herself out of the kitchen chair and walks into the living room, leaning against the door frame like her body is too heavy to support itself.
“I’m going to bed,” she says, her voice croaky.
Caleb doesn’t even look up. “Whatever.”
She shuffles down the hall, muttering to herself. I watch her go into her bedroom and shut the door. Back to Caleb. He’s reaching down for another beer. His empty bottle has been discarded onto the couch where it’s leaking dark little spots of moisture onto the dirty fabric. I stand in the doorway, watching.
Short chapter as I'm in the middle of a writer's conference, but more tomorrow! =) Please vote and comment if you're wanting to see more!
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Shoot Me Down
Horror"I am going to haunt you forever." That's the promise that Breanne makes her killer. He cannot dump her body in the river and simply have his crime washed away. The detectives assigned to her case can't seem to pin anything on him, and her parents a...
