Tut, I can't get no solitude.
"Well, You go back to sleep, get some rest". My dad said. He stroked my head softly, before him and Emilio made their way to the door and closed it behind them gently. The guy still sat on my window seat, faced in my direction. What was he looking at? If I act like I can't see him, he'll go away. Because man, I was in no fit state to fight. I hadn't been to Jiu - Jitsu in two Months. I usually eat ghosts for breakfast. I eyed my reflection in the mirror, as I had nothing else to busy myself with. My light brown skin looked radiant in the sunlight. I had silky, loose black curls which came nearly to the middle of my back. I was getting bored of acting, the guy didn't go away. Actually, he got up from the window seat and took a few steps towards the side of me.
"Get your translucent ass the hell out of my bedroom". The guy looked stunned for a while, and then his mouth rested into a soft smile, as if he was amused by my rather unpleasant command.

"You're… a mediator?" he asked, his voice full with disbelief.

"A what?" I answered; my Medication had whacked me out.
"A mediator…" he said, "having communications with the dead". I had communications with the dead alright. judging by the please-can-you-pass-the- peas way that he said it, he had gotten over the shock. He moved closer to me.
"Do you speak to everyone like that?" He asked with a curious yet light tone.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" I wanted to hear this.
"I'm Jesse de Silva". He said, "I've been here for over one hundred and fifty years".

With that there was an awkward silence, during which I was giving my glacial stare, which makes even the most self-satisfied of people feel uneasy.
"What was it that you called me?" I demanded.
"A mediator" he stated, he looked calm, yet confused. "Have you never been told that you were a mediator?" he asked with concern. My gaze drifted away to a point above the horizon.
"No". No-one ever told me because I could never tell them. It was so hard. I had to tell somebody. Tell them that I was a weird child. When I was eight, I could remember creeping into Emilio's room at night to sleep next to him, because I was scared that they would come to get me. He didn't mind, but he and my dad never could understand why I couldn't be on my own at night. Those were the last times I ever tried, although there were many times before that, but they didn't count because I was only a child and it was understood as me having a 'too wild an imagination for my own good'. That was a long time ago, I stopped being scared. Have you heard of the fight-or-flight syndrome? I didn't take flight anymore, I started too fight – jiu-jitsu.

Now I found myself in the peculiar position of talking to a ghost, though I don't know why I was giving him the chance. The ghost went and sat back on the window seat and told me a bit about the girl who used to own this bedroom. Now I was disturbed that she happened to be the same age as me, but I can't explain how I felt. That there was someone else like me. Someone else who could see the dead. I don't trust ghosts, so I didn't believe him, although the thought was nice. His eyes glistened when I asked her name, Susannah.
"And she put up with sharing a room with you?" I asked.
"Susannah and I are…friends" he stated. I raised an eyebrow and asked,
"Friends?" Maybe she was a loner or a Goth who didn't like mingling with the living, I don't know, but it seemed ludicrous.

"She doesn't have any other friends apart from dead guys like you".

At this, I saw his jaw and neck tense as he gritted his teeth. The atmosphere was tense. Silence. He got up from the window seat and moved towards me, not taking his eyes off mine,

"Which school are you going to attend?" he asked.
"The Junipero Serra Mission Academy" I replied. He relaxed.
"Well I know a special person who could help you with your gift" He said.