Silent Pantomime

Chapter 17 | Pride and (kill)joy

Chapter 17🌌:

I didn't think it was possible to kill a ghost. Everything felt as if Stephen King was writing my life, where monsters were real and sometimes they won. But Oliver had been a ghost to me, and now he was a ghost to everyone. He was the only person who didn't believe in my magic, and now he was gone. Which meant everybody could fall for my tricks now, right? Well, everyone except for my bestie, I-write-you-letters-in-a-stalker-kind-of-way.

"Hey Hazel,
Did you know that every person in the world has some thirteen million year old stardust just living inside of them? I bet you don't like that fact, do you?
Everyone owning some of that magic that you believe you are special to possess. But don't you worry Hazel, because you can probably turn it around. Because facts are just true lies after all. You could probably make some magic tumble off your pretty lips as you speak the language of the universe and have the stars sigh in unison.
I'm sorry to hear about your little friend, he really was a lovely boy. The world outside has truly become what is meant by a ghost town, with everything frozen in time; people aimless and scared - everything drab and dreary. Because when something happens in a place so dull and puts it on the map after so long, what are you meant to do?
I bet you are asking yourself lots of questions right now, but if I were you, I would go and check out your wrist with a doctor. Because the questions you are asking yourself may be too hard for you to cope with.
It's like how a simple question can stump you. For example, when someone asks what their eye colour is you can either answer with "brown" or "at first glance your eyes are brown, but when they are hit by the light they go amber, and when you look closely they are green, but then if you look at the sunlight they look like honey." It is like the same with asking who the murderer is. I can either answer with "me" or I can answer with "Daisy Huntley was the signature left after the killing and even though I am one of the only people who knew that Daisy Huntley existed, Hazel invented her at the funeral of a girl she told to kill herself. Hazel can't tell anyone that I killed poor little Oliver, because I will tell everyone about Ally, and it will just make her look guilty as Oliver and Hazel also used to know each other very, very well. So Hazel best zip it.

Yours sincerely, the other Daisy Huntley."

I put back the frozen peas that I had been balancing on my wrist, disregarding the letter to the kitchen counter. I pulled open the freezer drawer, a draft of frosty air perking up my senses. My fingers grew more and more numb by clutching onto the bag for just slightly too long, making them go red at the tips and making me bite my bottom lip in response. I gingerly put the bag on the freezer drawer, as it was full to the brim with five year old pizzas and chicken nuggets that I had thought "had too many carbs" so I had refused to eat them. My wrist was purple in places and almost double the size, as it had fully established itself since the early hours of the morning. Every time I accidentally touched it, I would wince and want to scrunch up in a little ball and scream - but I had bigger problems to deal with.

I leaned cautiously over the letter and observed it lightly. As my eyes skimmed over the part about my author being a murderer, I felt all of the butterflies in my stomach just die. Someone had been watching me for god knows how long, knew too many secrets about me to count, had been threatening me for weeks - and that someone was a murderer. But not just any murderer, a murderer who used my alter ego as their "name" and killed my ex-boyfriend. But this murderer had also been giving me the attention I craved and relied on.

The murderer was my pride and killjoy.

I had solid evidence that this person had killed Oliver, but there would have been no benefits of handing in the letters to the police, would there? No one could have known who was writing the letters and my name would have gotten dragged through the mud - so the only outcome would have been me losing my reputation.

After my little conversation with my dad the night before, I had stormed into my living room and refused to leave it. I sat there just staring into space for hours until my letter arrived at nine; I'm pretty sure Dad had left for work, but I never bothered to listen about whatever he was doing. There was no point in him arguing with me anymore as I wasn't worth his time, I wasn't worth anything to him. I was sat slumped on my sofa, with the letter scrunched up in my pocket, while I put on the TV - having no intention of going to school.

Normally I didn't believe in ghosts, but when the world grew dark I can became much more open minded, so I was fully expecting someone to jump out on me and scare me to death as I sat there pondering on what to do with myself. I was basically ignoring the TV as there was nothing interesting on, as per usual, so I sat emotionlessly on my phone. After a few minutes of me trying to avoid any posts about Oliver, which was nearly impossible, I got a call from Cassidy. I answered it, yet I didn't feel like talking much, but at least I wasn't fully alone in the house of guilt.

"Hey Hazel, how you holding up?" Cassidy asked quietly and I smiled slightly, even though she couldn't see me.

"I'm okay, you?"

Lies.

"I'm alright I guess. Are you gonna skip school today?" She asked me.

"Yeah I don't really feel like going in after what happened, maybe tomorrow, plus I really fucked up my wrist," I laughed through gritted teeth, not bothering to add a hint of anything into my voice.

"Oh no, what did you do?" She asked and I laughed again, leaning my head back against the sofa to stare at the ceiling.

"I fell down the stairs," I lied, "Like a total idiot."

I breathed heavily as all I got was silence through the other end. "You still there?" I asked after a few seconds.

"Mhm yeah," Cassidy replied before speaking up again, "Can I tell you something?"

I nodded my head, "Shoot."

"It's just," she sighed, as if she didn't want to say whatever she was about to say, "I know for a fact that you know our friend group is fully based on all of us being fake." I had to stop myself from chuckling by muffling my mouth with my hand.

"Maybe I do," I said and Cassidy laughed.

"But I just wanted to let you know that you can find me if you ever need to, because I actually like you and you know - value you as an actual person,"  she breathed, "I'm always here to talk."

I scrunched my eyes shut as a few tears finally fell down my face in silence. I definitely wasn't okay, but I couldn't tell anyone why.

"Thank you," I murmured softly, "That's really sweet, but I'm honestly fine."

I heard Cassidy take in a short intake of breath, "I'm not as fake as you might think by the way, just trying to survive being a teenage girl," which made me actually laugh that time.

"Don't worry Cass, I don't blame you. Nothing wrong with wearing a little makeup and watching romcoms."

I smiled slightly, "Can we meet later because I have to get to form now?" She asked me.

"Sure, just us two?" I answered her.

"Oh definitely. I'll text you once I'm done with school, I've got to run. Bub-bye!" She rushed out before hanging up.

"Bub-bye," replied quietly, even though she was long gone and once again I was alone. But I barely cared, as my mind left only one though in my head:

Now what?