AN: Look, two chapters at once. Woot!
Fifteen years later, the Wrights moved into the house on the hill. Well, technically, three Wrights and one Rutledge. Kylie stood in the front yard, looking up at the house, the buds of her headphones in her ears, but her iPod was off. She had wanted to listen to the movers . . . gossip, but none of the men were chatting. They'd unload her family's possessions, take them into the house, and come back out to the truck for more.
Her hands were in their usual place: the front pockets of her boot cut blue jeans. Her black baby-tee read "Bite me" in white letters, and the white on her red converse were decorated with skulls she had drawn herself. The choker she wore was a chain with a black ribbon thread through the links, and it had a silver dragon with a crystal for a pendent. Her parents didn't mind if it was her style. As long as she didn't hurt herself, they were happy. As happy as parents with a child who had mental diseases could be.
Kylie wanted to laugh at them. She didn't have "problems", as everybody liked to call it. They just didn't want to believe. She'd play along . . . until they made her take medication. Then she'd start fighting back. But she'd been "clean" for a few months now.
She was going to start her senior year in a few weeks. Oh, right. She was supposed to be angry with her parents. She thought she was going to finally finish at the same school she started. But no. Her parents just had to get a job in freakin' New York, and for some crazy ass reason move the fam to Winter River, Connecticut. What the fuck was up with that?
Her mother appeared at her side. Kylie cast her a glance out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulder length dark brown hair was dusted with silver, most of it in the front and at her temples, and she stood about two inches below her daughter. But when they were sitting next to each other, Kylie was much shorter. Most of Kylie's five-foot-seven height was in her legs. She had gotten that from her blood father. Annette's light blue eyes met her daughter's blue-grey, and she smiled. It was a tired smile, one Kylie was used to.
"What?" Kylie finally asked.
"What do you think?"
"It's a house."
Her smile faded. Why must her daughter be like that? She could remember when the girl constantly smiled, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as it were. Now she never smiled, and Annette couldn't remember the last time the girl laughed. No, she could remember. It was before the divorce. Kylie had taken it hard, turning cold almost overnight. A seven year old child shouldn't be glaring and brooding. They were supposed to be smiling and laughing. Now she was seventeen, and not much had changed.
"Fine, Kylie. Just go inside and see what you can do with your room."
"Which one is mine?"
"Second floor, last one on the left."
Kylie nodded, turning on her iPod, and made her way into the house. Seeing the interior design, she scowled. It was all . . . grey! Looked like freakin' granite. But, if she was to be honest with herself, she liked it better than the all white house she just left. Seriously, how boring could they be?
Ignoring everything but her music (currently playing Famous Last Words by My Chemical Romance), Kylie walked up the stairs, and down the hall to the last door on the left. Her eye brows shot up when she opened the door. The top half of the walls were a dark purple, and the bottom half were black wood paneling. Her bare full bed was pushed into the corner, and her dresser on the wall across from it, next to a large window covered with dark drapes. That was all her furniture, except the drapes, but that was all she needed. Kylie walked into the room, closing the door behind her and looked for the closet. She found it on the wall that ran along the long side of her bed. The girl walked over to it, opening the door. Her brows shot up even higher. It was a walk-in closet! She'd have tons of space now! Nodding her approval, she turned and saw the piece of furniture that wasn't hers tucked between her dresser and the wall. Intrigued, she made her way to the object, walking on the balls of her feet. She tilted her head, and pulled the black sheet off, finding her reflection. Her dark-honey brown hair fell in a waving mess around her face, and her blue-grey eyes, outlined by pure black, long lashes stared back at her. Kylie left her reflection to look at the white vanity. It had three drawers beneath the oval mirror. She'd find some use for it.
Kylie had just finished putting her dark red sheets and comforter on her bed, and was currently stuffing her pillows into their cases.
"Do you think she'll be able to see us?"
Kylie froze at the female voice. She was supposed to hear them in her head, not in her ears. She hit the pause button on her iPod through her jeans, and listened for the voice again. But now that she was paying attention, she definitely knew someone was in her room.
"I don't think so, Barbara."
Male voice that time.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Kylie asked without turning around.
"Wait, you can hear us?" Barbara asked.
"Of course, I can," she replied with a sneer, and resumed her pillow stuffing.
"Oh. Well, I'm Barbara Maitland, and this is my husband, Adam."
Kylie tossed her pillows on her bed and looked over her shoulder, her eyes cold, as she took in the ghosts. They looked like they had died during the eighties. Barbara wore a white casual dress with pink floral print, white slipper-shoe type things, and she had curly, shoulder-length brown hair. Her husband had short light brown hair, simple glasses, a red plaid shirt, tan dress pants, and brown shoes.
"What do you want," she asked again.
Barbara shot a nervous glance at her husband before returning her attention to Kylie. "We just wanted to meet you."
"I'm Kylie. My mom's Annette, my step-dad is Mike, and my little brother is Zach. Before you ask, I'm the only one who can see or hear you."
"Okay. Well, we live in the attic, so if you ever want to talk, just come up there." They left, just walking through the door before Kylie had the chance to say anything else.
"Great," she muttered moving to her boxes of clothes. "I've get to live with ghosts."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They were eating pizza for dinner. Kylie barely listened to the conversation between her parents as she ate her second slice of sausage and pineapple pizza.
"Did you figure out why we got the house for so cheap?" Mike asked in his Tennessean accent.
"They said the place was haunted so no one wanted to move in," Annette replied, her Michigan accent not nearly as alien in this new place as Mike's was.
"If they wanna be stupid superstitious bastards . . ."
"But it is," Kylie said, and immediately wished she could kick herself for being so stupid.
Her family stared at her, silent, before her mother stood up and went into the kitchen. When she came back, she set a pill on Kylie's plate.
"I don't want to," Kylie said, staring at the freakin' horse pill like it was going to bite her.
"Take the goddamn pill, Kylie," Mike growled.
"But—"
"Do it."
Kylie picked up the pill, put it in the back of her mouth, and took a swig of her soda to swallow it.
She wanted to cry.
AN: This is Kitty . . . in case you didn't know. I think Beej will be in the next chapter. Which might be up tomorrow. If I have time to work on it.