Ghost: Part Four
I could feel my brain pumping in my skull, producing several thoughts and questions as I stood in the cool rain near a department store. I let the chilling drops tap against my skin and watched them cling on to the surface of my arms, watching in false interest as each one did the same thing. They would hang on for a few seconds and then let go, falling to their death on the ground. But, the sun would shine and they would come back to life in time, returning to their home in the clouds that are presently stained with a glum gray.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips and I tugged my black jacket tighter around my body, trying to drown out the sneaky cold that lurked in the smallest of places. I can't take this. This whole thing just doesn't make any logical sense. He's gone and shouldn't be able to come back. We destroyed the Fenton Portal after his passing, knowing that if it were to remain there, a ghost would find a way into our world and we would be defenseless (being our hero was now gone). But if the Portal is gone, how did he get back to our world?
I watched the cars go pass me, some of their drivers giving me strange glances as they sped by my soaking torso. I didn't blame them for being disturbed or curious, for I felt wet and probably looked soaked. I really didn't care, I was too lost in thought and confusion tocare. Besides, even though it was quite nippy, the rain was soothing my jumpy nerves. Each drip of wet seeming to wash away some of the remaining strange emotion left over from my... accident.
I can't get those bright eyes out of my mind... The way they looked at me, the way he observed me after I refused his helping hand. Those glowing orbs sparked a hint of hurt and now the guilt bought on by the eerie situation is suffocating me, smothering me with a blanket of sorrow.
I don't know why I was so terrified now that I have time to think about it. I guess it was just because it was all so overwhelming, too shocking to see the face of the one who left us so long ago. But I still can't get that one feature out of my head. Those eyes have been burned into my memory, along with ever curve and twist of his body.
Surprisingly, he looked much older than fourteen, the age I would have expected him to be. In fact, he looked 27 like me. I thought ghosts don't age, but maybe its their choice. I guess he wanted to, because he definitely didn't look fourteen.
His hair was slightly longer and his figure was more muscular than his scrawny teenager form. His facial features looked far more mature and he had grown in size. But one thing that hasn't changed (and probably never will) are those orbs of lime green; those serious, aware eyes that could be blazing angry in one second and caring and compassionate the next. I just can't shake off the look he gaze me when I backed away, can't get rid of it no matter how hard I tried.
And let me tell you, I've tired hard.
After we left the house, Jazz had tried talking to me to understand my behavior. I refused to respond with the truth. Instead, I assured I was fine and perfectly healthy. "I just had a little scare, thats all" I told her. She still refuses to believe me. She always was like that. She was like an animal sensing danger when it came to snooping out lies. She could read anyone like a book, and thats why she made such a nifty psychiatrist.
But I still can't help but wonder if I imagined the whole ordeal. What if it was just a picture created by my mind, a figure of my imagination brewed up by all the memories and fear that lived in the moment? Was it really possible for him to be here? I can't tell you, because I, myself, don't even know the answer.
And I know a lot of things.
The more I ponder about it, the less sense it makes. There is no way he could have gotten here, no real road that could have lead to our dimension. It was just my brain, a mental image born to bring all that guilt and unsettled anger back. It had to be... Theres no other way.
A cab then pulled up and rolled down it's drenched windows, showing me the face of a middle aged man with snow white platinum hair. "Need a ride?" the man asked, a warm grin plastered on his friendly features. I responded by trotting over hurriedly, suddenly wanting to get away from the bitter drops of precipitation. I opened the door and slipped my soaking wet body inside the small car, letting the warmth fill my veins with a snuggly feeling of comfort.
As I watched the landscape blaze past the windows as we drove through Amity, I finally made up my mind.
He's not back. He never will be coming back.
How wrong I was...
GP4-GP4-GP4-GP4-GP4-GP4
I studied the teen in front of my desk, watching him fiddle his thumbs and look at the tan carpet, finding interest in its blunt appearance. "Dillon, you have to move on. I know you loved your sister deeply, and you still do, but you have to understand the concept that shes not here anymore. She's moved on, and she will still be with you in your heart". The teen switched his gaze from the boring carpet and up to me, angry eyes replacing his saddened ones that he had previously worn on his freckled face.
"You don't understand how hard it is! How can you sit there and just babble on? Making your self sound like your so damn wise!" He suddenly yelled, throwing his body off the chair and to the floor, staring me down with piercing green eyes. But this didn't faze me as I calmly sat at my desk, looking at him with a settled glance.
"Sit down, Dillon" I said with a hint of demand in my voice, and he obeyed. Once his rump hit the furniture and his muscles un-tensed, he buried his face into his hands and started to silently cry. I was used to these mood swings by now, since he had had three of them in this last session.
Dillon Foreman is a troubled fellow, who lost his twin sister in a plane crash two weeks ago. From what I have been told, he and his sibling were extremely close like most twins, and did everything together. Jackie, (his twin) was a tomboy and was currently dating Dillon's best friend, Mikey Findley. Dillon's parents are extremely worried, and I don't blame them. Judging by the way Dillon can't control himself, hes extremely emotional and could be possibly dangerous at the moment.
"I just... can't believe... she's, shes..." I heard him start to mumble over muffled sobs, his hands smashing whatever air that was there before between his palms and mouth. I could almost taste the salty taste of the tears as he cried. I sighed and stood up.
I walked over to the chair and placed a hand on his shaking back, almost feeling the hurt and anger leak out of his muscular upper torso as he sobbed uncontrollably, unexposed to whatever confidence he had left. I sighed again before whispered softly "Its alright Dillon, just give it time... Shhh, just give it time". His tears slowed and he sniffed loudly, sucking in all the disgusting residue back inside his damp nostrils.
He turned his neck to look at me and looked at me with puffed up emerald eyes. "How can I? How can I give it time if she's not here to spend it with me? You can't possibly know the pain I'm going through right now" Wow, pretty deep. A felt my heart soften, a depressing thought filling up the capacity of one of my thought pockets. He and his sibling were so close, thats rare when it comes to family these days. I just patted his back and looked out the window that overlooked the landscape (which was currently being drenched from the storm going on) outside the glass.
"I know more than you think, Dillon. A lot more... You should learn more about someone before you go about saying they don't know the impact of the death of a loved one" I slowly said, walking back to my desk, waiting for a reply.
"You mean, you lost some one, too?" I heard him say after a moment of silence. I merely nodded, and turned to face him.
"Dillon, believe me. You have to move on. It will tear you apart if don't. Do you think Jackie would want you to be like this?" he stiffened up and leaned forward. "No" he choked out and once again began looking at the carpet that colored the floor of my average sized office.
"You have to be strong. Be strong for every body, including yourself" he looked up and nodded. I placed my hands on my desk with a small thud and eyed him with a serious expression.
"That will be all for today, Dillon. I will see you again on Monday" The juvenile got up and walked to the door. He placed his hand on the knob and then looked back at me.
"Hey, Miss Manson" I looked up and gave him a questioning look, clearly asking what he needed or wanted.
"Who did you loose?" I bit my lip and ran a hand through my ebony hair.
"A great friend. He was a really good person" he nodded and opened the door, knowing that he awoke a monster of thought and should leave me be. He walked through the doorway and the door closed, fully transporting him into the hallway. I sat down with a tired huff and placed my head in my hands. I began to shake my head, trying to push out the building stress out of it's hiding place in my hair. Sometimes, this job can really take a lot out of you.
I took my throbbing head out of my warm palms and looked at a picture of Danny. I picked it up and brushed a thumb against its smooth exterior, sucking in all the cold of the glass as if it were soup.
The sound of ground shaking thunder stopped me from falling into thought's fatal pit and lightening flashed, its bright body of blazing heat and light soaring against the dark storm clouds, clearly standing out and filling the dark area around it with blinding light. The lights blinked then went out completely, leaving me in the dark.
I grumbled and slowly said to myself "Darn electricity."
W/C: Theres chapter four (or part four, whatever I called it). There will be some Danny in the next chapter so... Never fear, SUPER Danny is here:cough: I will give someone a cookie if they can figure out how Danny got here. Its fairly obvious if you give it some thought, just think: Portal... It should come to you in some time :)
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE KIND REVIEWS! DON'T FORGET TO DO IT AGAIN FOLKS :stupid caps lock: