Misguided Ghosts

Chapter Fifty-Two

Fifty-Two – Liam

When the doorbell rang at half seven on a Sunday morning, it’s safe to say that I was expecting it to be a confused milkman. I definitely wasn’t expecting what happened to happen.

I switched on the light before pulling the door open, rubbing my right eye with the heel of my hand as I did so. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong day,”

“Oh, no,” A cold and yet cheerful voice said. The whole world slowed down as my eyes adjusted to the darkness outside and I saw who was on my doorstep. Fear surged through me. “This is definitely the right place and the right time,”

My muscles locked as I told myself to move. He smirked as he saw my desperate attempts to turn and run; to slam the door in his face and lock it; to hide under my duvet and pretend it was another one of my dreams.

“This isn’t a dream,” He was smiling now, his eyes glittering maliciously. “This isn’t even one of your nightmares, Liam,”

My breath began to tremble as adrenaline flowed through my veins. I had to do something. I couldn’t just freeze. I could punch him in the face. The door was right by my right hand – if I could just make my hand move, I could shut it. I could take two steps back, turn and then flee back upstairs. I could call for help and maybe my Dad could come and rescue me. The burglar alarm was right by the door – maybe I could set it off? I could even press the panic button that would call the police.

“I’m sure every way you could alert someone to my presence has finally crossed your mind,” He sounded bored. “Are you done panicking yet?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” I spoke through clenched teeth.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” His eyebrows crept up and shivers shot their way down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Well, I need your help on something,”

“What makes you think I’d help you?” I spat.

He smiled. “Clearly, you’re not as much of a pushover as Taylor was,”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Had he done something to Tay? “I have nothing you can use against me,”

“Oh, really? So you don’t love your Daddy? You feel no affection for his new wife? And what about Maya, who tried so hard to replace your poor, sweet mother?” He paused for dramatic effect. How did he know all of this? “And there’s nothing for that little red-haired thing. What’s her name? Hayley?”

My hands clenched into fists. “You touch them, and I swear to God-“

“You’ll what?” He laughed. “Dream about my death and pray that it comes true? I’m in charge here, not you,”

“What makes you say that?”

He reached inside the jacket he was wearing, smiling wickedly. I was trembling now, and wanted nothing more than to run away. I was screaming at my legs to move, but it just wasn’t working. I knew that everyone had fight or flight programmed into the deepest, instinctual part of their brain, and my brain had somehow chosen freeze. He drew out a knife, the point of it glittering in the dim light cast by the streetlights around us and from the light of the hall. “Because I have this,”

My vision shot straight to the knife, focussing on every little detail of it. The smooth, stainless steel of the blade; the handle that seemed to sit too perfectly in Caleb’s hand; how sharp it was; how comfortable he looked with such a blade in his hand. I tore my eyes away from the knife and looked at him. His eyebrows were slightly drawn together, as if he was debating what he was about to do with it.