Misguided Ghosts

Chapter Eight

Eight - Tay

(This is still Emilie's perspective!)

Ed spoke some while later. "It's five. I'd best get you home,"

I pouted and sighed at him, but allowed him to pull me off the sofa, consoling me with a gentle kiss and out of the door, away from the peace and comfort that his flat gave me.

He pulled the car into the drive and caught my hand before I got out. "I'll stay as long as I can. Text me when they've gone to bed, and I can come back if you want."

"You'd do that?" I asked softly, not daring to raise my voice.

He shrugged. "I've done it before. What makes it so different now?"

I couldn't answer him, so we got out of the car and walked to the door.

The moment we got inside, my mother hurled herself at me, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. I awkwardly raised my arms, patting her back. I wasn't quite sure how to react to this. Every instinct screamed at me that this was wrong, that things like this didn't normally happen. I pulled away from my mother and turned to face my father. He was a beefy man, with fingers like sausages, no neck and piggy eyes that seemed to have burrowed themselves deep within his skull. My mother, however, was almost too skinny, but I could clearly see that I had inherited my mother's brown eyes and my father's dark brown hair. Apart from those two things, I couldn't see any more similarities between the three of us. My father pulled me into a small, not very warm or loving, hug. He stepped away quickly and cleared his throat. I also stepped back, feeling Ed's arm snake its way around my waist, pulling me close to him. My eyes flickered from one parent to the other, waiting for one of them to say something. Then I saw the suitcases at the foot of the stairs. Why were they there? Were they kicking me out?

"Well..." Mum said in a small voice. "Why don't you two go into the living room?"

"Actually, I'm kind of tired," I lied. "Can I maybe go upstairs and lie down for a bit before dinner?"

"That's a good idea," She said sweetly. "Will you be staying for tea, Ed?"

He smiled charmingly at her. "That would be lovely, thank you, Mrs Woodson,"

She blushed. "Now, now, I've told you before, dearie. Please call me Mary,"

We retreated into my room and only then could I see just how much of a mess it was. Clothes were littered in piles all over the floor, along with various books - both literature and textbooks. A kitbag full of swimming essentials was thrown in a corner. On the desk, the edge of a red laptop just poked out from underneath a pile of Kerrang! magazines. The bed had been left unmade this morning, and there was more stuff strewn all over the floor that I had moved just so I could get into bed: more issues of Kerrang! with various pictures cut out of them, all of which lay in several different piles (presumably categorised by bands); a pair of scissors; a large wad of blu-tack and a whiteboard that showed the total of all the posters and photos of various bands that decorated the walls (it was currently at 81). A beanbag sat in the corner of the room underneath the window, with various t-shirts chucked over it and a stack of books next to it. It looked like a great place to just sit and read.

I collapsed onto the unmade bed, burying my face in the pillow. Ed sat down next to me, placing a warm hand on my back and began to rub soothing circles.

"Are they always like that?" I asked, raising my head and turning it to face him.

"I wish I could tell you that they were loving and caring and I'm sure they are, but I've never really seen it. I've lost track of the amount of times we've spent the evenings in this empty house because they've gone out and left you on your own with no instructions, no dinner left in the fridge. They just leave you to fend for yourself. I've also lost track of the amount of times when I've stayed over and they haven't noticed. There have been times where they've gone away for the weekend and left you without any money, so you stayed at mine. They didn't let me see you for a week because of it."