Haunted Things

by Boyd, Abigail

  CHAPTER 16

  Seth doesn't come back for a week. October is drawing to an end, and Halloween is days away. The decorations I see through town as I'm driving to and from school every day, especially the ghosts dangling from trees like wilted, white flowers, remind me of him.

  I take his boxes out and carry them downstairs, stowing them in the hall closet. I can't have them in my room anymore. I pull one of the poetry books out—the Lord Byron book that he got the phrase on the window seat from. I almost keep it but toss it back in and shove the door shut.

  As I'm sitting up in my room, I hear the guitar playing its mournful tune. I go to the window and stare out into the night, listening to each note. I don't know if he's playing for me or himself.

  I throw my earphones on and crank up my music, blocking him out. He's right—I don't know if I can believe his words. But if he's a killer, I can't let him in again.

  _________________

  We find out from idle gossip that Carla's out of school for good. I follow Oliver to his locker after class on Friday.

  "Just watch your back, that's all I'm saying. Obviously I have experience with this," he says, shoving his books onto the top shelf.

  "I will, don't worry." I lean back against the lockers. "If she shows up at my house again I'll have the cops there before she has a chance to play any tricks."

  "Good." He pauses and licks his chapped lips as we continue down the hall toward the exit. "You want to maybe go see a movie tomorrow? There's a new horror out I wanted to catch. Plenty of blood, just in time for Halloween."

  "I'm not a huge fan of horror." Especially considering the ghost of a murderer haunting me. "But yeah, it would be nice to get out of the house." I think about it for a second. "This isn't a date thing, right? Just friends?"

  He laughs. "Yeah, of course. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

  I know it's time for me to be social again. But I can't help but think of the contrast between how I feel with Oliver and the depth of emotion I felt with the boy who isn't Aaron. It leaves me hollow.

  _________________

  Dad gets a call from grandma's care facility on Saturday afternoon. I stand by and watch his face get more and more gray as they speak.

  "Apparently, some kind of stomach flu's been going around the home. She's got it and she fell down trying to get out of bed to get to the bathroom. Now her fever won't go down." His face pinches together and he begins to sob, taking off his glasses and holding the side of the counter for support. "I can't take much more of this."

  My nose stings and I push back tears myself. I don't know how to react, but I hug him awkwardly.

  "I don't know how to do this without Liz," he whispers.

  "The only way you can," I whisper back. "Just by doing it."

  He pulls back and wipes his tears away, putting his glasses back on. "They want me to come up there, and even if they didn't I would want to go," he explains.

  "That's fine, I can take care of myself. Go." Part of me regrets that my last conversation with my grandma was so many weeks ago. What if…but I'm not going to let myself think about what if right now.

  "You really have grown up well," he says, and smiles at me before heading upstairs. He hurriedly packs and leaves the house, telling me he has no idea when he'll return.

  I watch his car take off and turn down onto the main road. The sun is setting on the horizon and I stand on the porch as the sky bleeds red.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. It's Oliver. Oh shit, I forgot about our movie plans. I try to think of a valid excuse, but Oliver's faded green Malibu rolls into the driveway.

  "You ready to go?" he asks cheerfully as he gets out. I'm dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, but I grab my coat and follow him to his car. This should be interesting.

  CHAPTER 17

  The movie theater is packed and we wait in a line that extends to the doors. We chat about music and books and manga, interests we have in common.

  "I have no nerd cred," I admit. I glance around and cup my hand over my mouth, whispering, "I've never seen Star Wars."

  "How is that even possible?" he chuckles.

  I shrug. "I dunno, I just wasn't ever interested. Whenever I mention that I like manga and watching anime, I get quizzed up and down by fanboys. Same with games. I never felt the need to learn every detail about my entertainment to be entertained."

  "Some of us just get obsessive, I guess," he says vaguely. The line finally moves and we buy our tickets for what he explains to me is the slasher flick. We get popcorn and wait inside the dark theater, watching trivia questions roll on the screen.

  "What got you so interested in serial killers in the first place?" I ask, tossing a buttery kernel into my mouth.

  "My aunts used to let me watch Friday the 13th and the Freddy Krueger movies when I was only like 6 or 7. I didn't get really into it until I was about ten; I bought all the DVDs. I even have a collection of murderbilia."

  "What's that?"

  "Memorabilia, only for killers. Mostly just books and stuff though, but I do have a pair of shoes that used to belong to Seth Moss."

  "Really?" I raise my eyebrows, realizing that my skin has gone cold.

  "Yeah." I can see his eyes glitter in the dark. "He's a personal hero of mine."

  He's never mentioned that detail before. "A hero?"

  "Well, you know, he's interesting," Oliver backtracks.

  "So that's why you knew so much?"

  "You could call me an expert." He shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth, chews, and follows it with Sour Patch Kids. "You know, everybody thinks of killers as these animals and monsters, but they're usually smarter than all the other normal people around them. Ted Bundy was really intelligent and super careful, he used to study how police investigations were conducted so he could reduce the chances of getting caught."

  The lights go down and the movie starts. Six college students find themselves in the woods during a vacation, the standard set up. I abandon my popcorn midway through as the blood begins to spray and bodies pile up. Nobody survives.

  Afterward, we head out. It was the last show, and all the people who were in line are swiftly pulling out of the parking lot as we stroll down the street, finishing our drinks.

  "So, where's your mom, does she live back in Indiana?" He guzzles through the straw of his oversized Pepsi.

  Somehow the question blindsides me, and an instant heavy pressure hits on my chest. "We…we were in a car accident and she passed away last year." My skin feels prickly from discomfort.

  "Oh," he mutters, tossing his drink into a nearby trash can. "I guess you never mentioned it."

  We cross the parking lot. There's a dumpster at the end of the lot, near Oliver's car. The last few cars drive away and the lights of the theater shut down. A group of loud, laughing kids a few years younger than us run past us. Their laughter echos as they disappear into the night, giving me goosebumps. I think about all that blood in the movie.

  A bad feeling washes over me. Something isn't right here.

  A rustling sound starts up and Carla jumps out from behind the dumpster. Behind her are her boyfriend and another, tough girl I don't recognize with a scowl and a face full of piercings.

  I practically swallow my tongue and Oliver's eyes shoot open with fear. Dominic is clutching a thick board between his hands and he slaps it onto his palm.

  Oh shit.

  "You know, it's nice to see you two," Carla says, strolling in front of us and cracking her knuckles. "I thought you weren't an item."

  "We aren't," Oliver says coldly.

  "Coulda fooled me," Carla continues. She turns her attention to me. "By the way, because of you, I got expelled. And since my parents are both miserable perfectionist pieces of shit, I got my ass beat. They're not appealing the school's decision, so I'm screwed and I have to take my GED. You completely fucked up my future, so I'm going to fuck up yours."

  Her boyfriend steps forward, raising the board to bring it down on me an
d I shrink back. Oliver reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, pointing it at the others with a trembling grip. It takes my eyes a second to register that it's a gun.

  "Whoa man, what are you doing?" Dominic squawks, raising his hands up. He drops the board with a clatter on the pavement.

  Oliver's eyes are bloodshot and I can tell he's fighting the urge to cry. His arm shakes as he tries to hold the gun steady, pointed at them. "Get away from us!" he shouts hoarsely.

  "Oliver," I whisper from beside him, but he doesn't hear me. His pupils are bullets shooting at Dominic. I take a step away from him and the others cluster together, all holding up their hands.

  "Where did you get that, Oliver? We were just playing around," Dominic says. "I wouldn't really hurt her or you."

  "Bullshit. You leave us alone or I'm going to shoot every single one of you in the head." He twitches the gun at them. "Go!"

  Carla shoots one more angry glare at me and the three of them take off out of the lot.

  I'm shaking so much that I can't move. Oliver turns back toward me, breathing heavily, and runs his free hand through his greasy hair. "You okay?"

  I can't take my eyes off the gun. "Where did you get that thing?"

  He laughs, points it at my face, then pulls the trigger. I jump, but a cold stream of water squirts out and hits me on the cheek.

  "It's just a toy, Ash!" He stuffs it into his back pocket. "Looks real, doesn't it? I used a knife and broke the orange cap off."

  I can't stop trembling and I feel like I'm going to puke. It's suddenly very cold.

  "Hey, Ash, it's okay," he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. His touch makes my skin crawl, but I try not to show it. "I just had to show them they can't mess with us anymore."

  He pulls his arm off of me and goes to his car, opening the door. He gestures for me to get in the other side. "C'mon, it's getting late."

  I hesitate where I am, wrapping my coat sleeves over my freezing hands. Why am I so nervous? After all, this is just Oliver, and it was only a water gun. He's a little weird, but he's my friend, and I'm weird, too. He probably saved me from a hospital visit.

  Then why am I still so anxious?

  I clench my fists together. I push away my discomfort and get into the car with him, heading toward home.

  CHAPTER 18

  "I don't even remember what my mom looks like," Oliver tells me as we reach the main street. I glance at him and he's frowning in concentration as he spins the steering wheel. "She's a junkie and she just dropped me off with my two bitchy, spinster aunts and rode off into the sunset. She hasn't once come to visit me, not since I was seven or eight years old. My memory of her face is just this blob on blurry shoulders now. For all I know, she's dead, too."

  I frown, shifting a little closer to the door. There's something in his tone, he's still as keyed up as he was in the parking lot.

  "That sucks," I mumble artlessly.

  He gives a choked laugh and presses his foot to the gas. I watch as the speedometer starts to rise.

  "Yeah, I'm used to it. She didn't even know who my sperm donor was. My aunts are my only family. They remind me that I'm a burden every damn day. One of these days, though, they're going to get what's coming to them."

  Every speeding beat of my heart asks me why I didn't find another way home. He weaves in and out of the spotty traffic, not slowing down.

  "Can you stop going so fast? Please?" I ask. He glances over at me and his face softens.

  He lets up on the gas and the car finally slows a little. I let out a deep breath and relax my death grip on the seat. But he still won't stop twitching beside me.

  "Your room is Seth's old room, right?" he asks randomly.

  "Yeah, sure." I stare out of the window, relieved that we're not far from home. "There were some old boxes and things of his upstairs."

  I glance at him, and curiosity flashes across his face. "What kind of things?"

  "Just odds and ends." He narrowly stops at a red light and I grit my teeth. "Nothing important."

  By the time he rolls up in my driveway, I'm ready to bolt from the car. He shuts the ignition off, reaches across me, and I shrink back against the seat as he pops open the glove compartment. He retrieves a small, plastic tube with white powder inside.

  "You want some?" he asks, nudging it toward me.

  I shake my head. "I'm not interested in a role in an after school special. I don't do that shit."

  "Whatever." He spills a little into the crook of his hand and plugs one nostril as he snorts dramatically. He rubs his nose furiously and when he looks at me again his pupils are cartoonishly blown. As he shuts the glove compartment, I catch a glimpse of something metallic in the back, but I can't see what it is.

  I undo the seatbelt and crack open the door as he picks up his phone.

  "Ash, hold up." But I'm already jiggling my keys apart and speeding to the porch. I glance over at him as he falls into step with me. It's late now and cold air nips at my cheeks.

  "My phone is dead, can I come inside and charge it?" he asks. "It'll only take me a minute."

  "I don't know," I hedge as anxious seconds tick by. I feel a drop of rain on my nose, and then it begins to spray down in earnest. We run to the cover of the porch, but I don't unlock the door.

  "What are you waiting for?" he asks impatiently.

  "My dad didn't want any visitors," I say. In truth, he didn't care. But a little voice is telling me not to let Oliver inside. Toy or no toy.

  The rain rolls down the porch's roof and falls in a curtain off the edges.

  "Oh, c'mon, Ash," Oliver says, rubbing his arms like he's cold despite his coat. "My aunts always lock the door and they won't let me have a key. What am I going to do, stand out in the rain all night?" He moves back and forth from foot to foot, working his jaw.

  For a moment, I think I see a human shape standing out in the rain. Seth? But my eyes focus and I see it's only the trunk of a nearby tree. I wish he was here right now, as irrational as it may be.

  I turn and with trembling hands, twist the key in the lock. My heart has picked up speed from my nervousness, and thumps in my chest. I push the door open, my hands sweating, but I step inside and block the doorway. "You know what, I can just bring the charger out here. There's an outlet—"

  "What is going on with you?" Oliver explodes. I shrink back in hesitation. He squeezes his eyes shut and waves his arms dramatically. "Why are you treating me like a freak? I know tonight ended shitty, but I told you, I had to stop them! I'm the only person here who was nice to you! I thought you were different."

  I'm speechless and all I can do is stare at him, open-mouthed.

  He runs his hand across his forehead, his voice dropping the hysterical note. "If you don't want to be my friend anymore, that's fine. But at least let me call my damn aunts so I don't have to drown outside tonight."

  I hesitate, then step inside. My heart is a little bird in my chest, fluttering its wings. He moves past me and into the living room, plugging his charger into the outlet and his phone. He cradles the phone as he waits for it to turn on.

  I relax, wiping my hands over my face and shutting my eyes. I'm getting way too paranoid. Maybe it was the movie, all that blood and gore.

  Suddenly his footsteps cross the room. I drop my hands, but it's too late. He raises his arm, aiming his elbow for my face.

  "Stupid bitch," he mutters, then clocks me in the forehead hard with his elbow. Pain spreads through my skull as everything goes dark.

  CHAPTER 19

  When I come to, I'm lying on the floor. I look up and see bright pink walls and the side of my old brass bed frame. I push myself up to sitting and pain stabs through my head, causing my stomach to lurch. Blood is trickling out of my right nostril and I wipe it with the back of my hand.

  "Sleeping Beauty arises," Oliver says from nearby. His voice startles the drowsiness away. I glance up and see him blocking the doorway, rubbing the side of a gun with his coat.

  "I
thought…I thought it was a toy…"

  "The one you saw was a toy. This one is the real deal. Too bad I didn't have it on me in the parking lot. I almost let it slip out when I did that bump, but luckily you're not too perceptive."

  The shiny thing in the glove compartment. I scowl up at him, getting to my feet. "Why are you doing this?"

  His expression smooths out. "It's not anything personal, Ash. I really liked you, you were nice to me. Until tonight, that is." He takes a step into the room and I cringe, trying to stop my body from shaking.

  "Put your hands up," he orders, and I do as he says.

  I try to think of something, anything I can use to stop him as he paces back and forth in front of me.

  "You know, before you acted so mean to me earlier, I was having second thoughts," he admits. "But then you had to act like such a self-righteous bitch. Too good to let me in your house."

  "You planned all this?"

  "Yeah. Not from the first moment I met you or anything. But ever since that time in the hallway, when you pulled the others off of me. When Carla hit you. You're weak, but you trusted me. It's perfect."

  "Why, Oliver?"

  I see a flicker of emotion in his eyes—and hopefully, a seed of doubt. I reach out behind me for the bed, but he gestures for me to stop.

  "I want to know what it was like for him," he explains softly. "I want to know what it's like to hold life—your life—in my hands, and choose to destroy it." He smashes his fist into the wall. My heart responds to the threat and pounds hard in my chest as my mouth runs dry. "I've always wanted to know. All these years, reading about the others doing it. Watching, and waiting. Now it's my turn."

  He takes another step into the room and I match it with a step back. He points the gun at me as he continues to chat. "You're so perfect—whiny, stereotypical, suicidal teen girl." He gestures to the scars on my arm. "All alone in a house where dark things happened. Destroyed by her mom's death, she feels like she can't go on, and ends it all. I didn't even know that part until tonight, but it's just—it's like everything fell into place better than I could have imagined."