Charlie's Haunting

“Charlie!” yelled the voice. Then BANG, the door flew open, slamming against the wall. “You are going to be late for school again!” screamed his mother.

“I don’t feel well,” replied a groggy and very hung-over Charlie.

“Enough of that! You have no more sick days! No more excuses!”

She hustled over to the one small window beside Charlie’s bed and grasped the edge of the flimsy roller shade. SNAP! It flew up! The rays of light jabbed at his half-open eyes, feeling like thousands of tiny needles.

He emitted a low groan and grabbed for the pillow beneath him to cover his head, but she wrestled it from his grip.

“Mom!” he yelled

“You have exactly ten minutes to get ready!” She threw the pillow at Charlie’s head and stormed out of the room.

Charlie dragged himself out of the warmth of his bed, pulled on a black tee-shirt and a pair of black denim jeans. He staggered down the hall to the bathroom where he relieved his exploding bladder and brushed his teeth, the smell of alcohol still fresh on his breath. Bent over the sink, the feeling of nausea creeping up on him, he questioned why he did this to himself. Why he drowned himself in the bottle to escape the evil that chased him. Pushing negative thoughts out of his mind, he stood straight and studied himself in the mirror. He wet his hands, pushed his fingers through his greasy hair, and then turned back down the hall.

As he passed by his room he hesitated a moment to look out the tiny window in his ramshackle room. He watched as the trees in the yard swayed in the cool autumn breeze. Their rhythmic motion seemed deliberate and evil to him. He feared what was out there waiting for him. He pushed the thought aside.

“Chilly out,” he mumbled to himself as he entered his room and grabbed his black jacket off the rickety old chair that served as his clothing rack. He held the coat with a firm grip in one hand and searched the pockets with the other. He must not forget his MP3 player. Alcohol was not his only escape; music soothed him too.The small square object was there along with his ear buds.“Good,” he thought, “Now just to get past mom.”

He passed through the kitchen to grab his un-opened backpack. He never did his homework because he had more important things to conquer…..like the evil that awaited him. Slinging the pack over his shoulder he raced to the front door, but his mother jumped in front of him, blocking his way.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked with a hint of scorn in her voice.

“I’m not hungry.” He twisted to the side to try to glide past her, but she moved to block him once again.

“I don’t understand. What happened to you?” She asked as her tone changed from one of anger to one of desperation. A lump rose in her throat and her voice cracked as she continued. “You used to be so sweet. You were such a good boy and a good student too. We used to be the perfect family. We kept no secrets. What is wrong Charlie? Please tell me!”

“Mom, I’m going to be late!” Her display of emotion sickened him.

“Charlie have you been drinking?” Her demeanor became firm. He thought she smelled alcohol on his breath, but was not certain. He had to think fast to escape her penetrating stare.

“Mouthwash mom!” he exclaimed.

“Charlie, whatever is bothering you…you must face it or it will never go away.” Tears welled-up in her eyes. “My therapist says it’s the only way you are going to get better.” Her pleading eyes met his indifferent glare.

“What the hell does your therapist know!” demanded Charlie. His vision blurred as he filled with rage. He had problems, big problems yet his mother was the one in therapy, trying to convince herself she is the perfect mother.“You just continue to talk to your therapist about me. She’ll tell you what a wonderful mother you are and how I am just a random bad egg. She’ll tell you want you want to hear as long as you continue to write her checks!” His chest heaved and he felt like his heart might explode. He thrust past her and ran out the front door.