Disclaimer: I own no characters. All I own are my own ideas.
Nightmares/dreams/flashbacks are italicized and in bold.
Thoughts are italicized...unless the italicized is in a conversation.
Haunted by the Past
Pain. The smoke both blotting out most of his vision and making his lungs burn as he turned away from his younger brothers' still form. He couldn't help Jacob…not now. How had this happened? He and his brothers weren't exactly well liked in town, but would any of them really go this far?
It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. But he kept moving, trying to find the way out. Any way out. Something above him snapped and he was forced to the ground beneath it. One of his ankles broke from the pressure that it had vainly tried to fight against, and hot ash burned his skin as he struggled to get out from under the beam. His vision was starting to blur, but it was just the smoke. It had to be.
He looked up when a rush of air blew past him. The door, only a few feet away, had opened. Melissa! She'd help him! She'd-Suddenly she smiled. Martin watched in disbelief as she slowly waved at him and closed the door. No...No. No! What was wrong with her!? Why would she-it all fell into place.
She had asked them to meet her here. Alexander had warned them against it, but they hadn't listened. Melissa had said that he shouldn't be bossing them around anyway; they weren't little kids. So they'd met her here and...and then the fire started. No...she had started it! She had set them up! She had wanted them dead!
An unrivaled panic filled him as he felt his mind fading. Adrenaline kicked in and he managed to get enough leverage to get the beam off of his back...only to scream as pain when it collided with his broken ankle. His adrenaline rush ended and the beam fell hard. His body went numb. He was trapped. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die.
And he woke up, panting. It took a few minutes before he remembered that he didn't need to breathe anymore. He was already dead. It was a nightmare. A nightmare…and a memory. He shuddered as he once again recalled that terrible, chilling smile. "You alright?"
Starting at his brother's whispered words, Martin jerked his head up to find his older brother watching him with concern. "Fine. I'm…fine." He said quietly, ducking his head in shame. Scared by a stupid little nightmare, what kind of ghost was he? "No you ain't. You think I'm stupid or something?" Alexand…uh "Stretch" was looking at him incredulously.
"No, no, no! 'Course not! I just…" Mar...Stinkie sighed. "I'm a ghost." He whispered, not daring to meet Stretch's eyes. "We ain't supposed to be scared of nothin'." He finished even quieter, hanging his head as he waited for his brother's stared at him for a few minutes, expression unreadable. The lanky ghost floated over until he was next to his brother's bed. "Look at me." He said. The younger ghost didn't move. After a few moments of staring at him, Stretch sat down on the bed. "Hey, bro, come on…Martin, look at me."
Stinkie looked up at the mention of his old name. They didn't use them often and since Stretch was, he'd better listen. "What?" Stinkie asked. Stretch was silent for a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. "What you went through…what you both went through…that's definitely not nothing!" Stretch tried to keep his voice even but couldn't help as it into a hiss at the end as he thought of what that monster did to them. Pulling his mind back to the present he finished his thoughts "Ain't no shame in being scared by that. Got it?"
Stinkie looked at his older brother silently, then up at the ceiling, and back to his brother before nodding. "And anyway, so long as you don't start venting about it to the Doc in those 'therapy sessions' of ours, I think you'll be fine." Patting his brother on the back and giving him a weary grin, Stretch floated back to his bed and laid down.
Silence filled the room as Stinkie followed his example soon after. For a while, he stared at the ceiling as he thought over everything. Stretch is right. I mean, Fatso has nightmares about that night too...but he died without seeing her. He just has memories of the fire. Funny, I'd almost say he was lucky. What that monster did would be enough to give even the toughest ghost nightmares. Shaking off the remainder of the dark thoughts in his mind, Stinkie las his head down and let himself relax. A few minutes later, he was fast asleep.
Huh, I finished my first story. And it's actually somewhat believable. At least, according to me. Sorry to anyone who thinks their O.O.C. but I went with what felt right. 'Kay, so the next chapter is about Stretch. Remember how furious he looked when Kat said "Get a grave?" Yeah, there's definitely a reason... Anyway hope you don't think it bombed. Soul-of-Hecate out. Peace.