Masters's Son

Eight

I wake up on my back. The night sky twinkles with small, distant stars. I like stars.

A green face comes into view, grey hair in a net. I immediately lean up but hit my head against hers. Don't really know what I expected from that, but it's okay.

We both groan in pain. What's going on again? Where I—now I remember, Jazz and I's lunch was cut short. By none other than the glowing, floating, pale green lady beside me.

She recovers quicker than me, "Are you okay, dearie?" She asks, voice filled with concern. This confuses me.

I back away, scooting myself farther so the angry ghost lady doesn't rampage again.

"W-what?" My head hurts and I feel like I've been run over by a garbage truck.

I notice the night sky again. It was daylight when me and Jazz was separated. How long have I been out? I didn't bother to look at the time any today. Or is it yesterday?

I hold my head in one hand as I start to feel dizzy again. No, no. Not this time consciousness, you had your moment of rest, it's time to stay awake. I scoot to the door and lean against it.

Black dots don't start to block my sight as I look around. The floating lady slowly, carefully comes closer. Not like I can stop her.

I'm a lot more calm than one may think. I am not having a lung breaking panic attack right now, so I'm either in a deep state of shock and too out of it to process or I'm genuinely calm. Probably not the latter but what works, works.

She's careful and slow as she comes closer. "You have a head injury child. You shouldn't be left alone at a time like this." Her voice is filled with concern, her eyebrows furrowed.

I blink a few times before looking her in the eye. I must be hallucinating. No way is the angry ghost from earlier talking to me, not only peacefully, but concerned.

Before I know it, she's in front of me crouching down to me.

At this point, there are a couple things that are going through my mind. The first thing, I'm sorry to Jazz because I was never the best little brother. The second was that if I died by this ghost lady's hands right now, I wouldn't stop her. Because why not just screw it, right? If I'm dead, I'm dead.

I close my eyes, but don't clench them. It would hurt my head more than it already is. Self infliction is not my thing, only acceptance and accidents. Those are the exceptions.

Her hands are freezing as the tips of her fingers brush a couple of bleeding cuts on my forehead and cheek. Her hands trail to the back of my neck where the dish from earlier shattered.

"What happened here, deary?" The crusted over, but still open, broken skin dribbles a few crimson drops.

"Flying plate." I state plainly. Not much else to it anyway. There was chaos then a white flying porcelain frisbee came out of nowhere while I was in the crossfire.

She frowns at that. "That must've been my fault." She lets her hand fall from my injury. Her fingers were slightly covered in red, but slides off easily when her hand flickers in and out of sight.

"How did you do that?" I ask, talking about her hand. The few blood droplets on the concrete, the liquid spreads between the small rocks and dirt. The red noticeable against the light brown walkway.

"Oh," she laughs lightly, "I didn't even realize I did it." Her hand flickers again. It's like it didn't exist in the first place for those split seconds. "All ghosts can do turn intangible. Invisible too." She nods her head with her words.

She said all ghosts. During the hospital, I went through the bed, right? That was after the portal to the ghostzone. The portal gave me ghost side effects. Their project gave me abilities of the dead. And this horrifies me to no end. Am I even still alive?

The nice, anger-issue inflicted lady said that ghosts are able turn both intangible and invisible. What else can they do that might have affected me as well? Is there more I have to control? I can't keep falling through beds and dropping glass.

But that aside, "Why are you helping me?" I give her a confused look and tilt my head slightly. My head feels heavy. Her face turns from concerned to a distant, sad look. "I may have anger issues sweetie, but I'm not completely terrible not to help a bleeding child." She gives a small sigh.

"Can you stand?" She asks. I feel my head, it hurts and I may feel dizzy if I move any. I try to stand anyway. I put my hand on the unbudging door and lean my weight on it. The lunch lady helps me stand.

Once I'm up, my head is screaming to sit down, preferably lay down and not get back up.

I steady myself, I start to notice my body aching. I suppose that's what I get for sleeping on concrete. Outside. A few of my joints crack with any movement I make.

I test the waters and move my 'sprained' ankle. There are no sharp pains. My crutches are nowhere in sight. I look around, the moon not giving a lot of light but enough to notice they're nowhere near. I hold in a groan. Jazz'll kill me for walking on a healing ankle.

Wait—Jazz.

I completely forgot about Jazz! I'm the worst brother on earth! She must be worried sick. Here I am, talking to a ghost, while she is probably worried sick. Either she's home and waiting, or looking all around town. If it weren't for the twenty four hour missing person wait, posters would be everywhere.

Unless there already is.

It's so dark out. Not even a light for the door shines on us. I'm sure the security cameras would need a ligh—the security cameras! I look around above the exit. I spot one, but it's facing down and the power light off. It's not on, it can't see me. Who knows how long it's been off.

The stars twinkle, mocking me and my already broken promise. I'm never able to keep my promise, especially when it involves Jazz. Fenton luck I suppose.

With my realization, I bring my eyes to the ghost quickly. "Something wrong dear?" Her voice was that of a sweet old lady's. A large contrast for what it was like in the mall earlier today.

"My sister. We lost each other in the crowd earlier. I need to get home." I take a wobbly step forward. I'm successful but my second step wasn't. I fall forward and pale green arms catch me.

"You're in no condition to be walking like this. Oh dearie me..." she helps me stand again. "I'll take you home, child." She goes behind me and picks me up by my underarms. I know I'm light and weak but she doesn't have to show it. She lifts me off the ground with little to no effort.

"You are my guide." She says pointing me away from the door and to the abandoned parking lot.

"Ever heard of Fenton Works?" I ask. If she hasn't, I'll be surprised. "That's where I came from. Of course dearie." I can feel her smile without having to look. It was in her voice.

Wind blew through my hair and houses below zoomed by. Neon lights lit up the night in the closing distance.

It's thrilling but scary. I could fall any second, we're flying so fast, faster than a car on the highway. Before I knew it, the fly came to an end, we arrived at the door step of Fenton Works.

She sets me down on my feet, "Thank you miss..." She give a sweet, old lady laugh, "You can just call me Patricia, sweetie." And with that and a small wave goodbye, she sunk into the concrete of the sidewalk.

I turn myself to the front door. I slowly walk up the steps to Fenton Work's entrance.

Please, Jazz, please be okay.

Please be in there. Don't let them be there.

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A/N My connection cut off and deleted two chapters. TT My motivation has been put on hiatus because of it. Sorry it's taking so long.