Nightmare Ghost (BOYXBOY)

Ghost entry #1 Darius afterlife

     I never put much thought into how I would die, but I guess not a lot of children did. I think I was different in a way since I thought about dying a lot more often then I should have. I was the outsider, or to put it mildly for those who don't understand, I didn't fit in. So when my end came I wasn't to surpried that no one cried at my funeral. In a sense they almost seemed happy about it. I can't say I lived a happy life because I didn't. Aside from looking different, I was also treated different. I never attended school because of the cuts or brusies and I never went past the dark black door thats almost always stayed locked. I sometimes asked myself what was the point of living if I was only gonna be living in hell. The truth was, I was never a bad kid...matter of fact, I was like any other normal kid until 'she' was born. I never did anything wrong but when I was four everything started changing. The beatings, abuse, locked doors, and days without food didn't start till I was 8 and my sister was 4. Somehow,we were four years and one day apart. I thought it was weird how my sister was born the day after me four years later but I never questioned it. Was I angry that I was replaced by a blonde haired demon? No, to be honest I wasn't I didn't think I had to be. I always assumed that my parents had their reasons for the things they did to be but I soon understood that it was being done just because they could. I wanted to believe that I was a bad kid but when I learned that it wasn't the case I did nothing but long for the embrace death would have brought. Which is why when I died I was happy but also confused at the events of that night. On the eve of my 18th birthday my parents let me out of that dark room, smiles on their faces like something amazing had happened or something amazing would. Did they love me again? They finally understand that the 10 years of abuse they had inflicted on me was wrong? I would never get to know the answer. They told me I was free to leave and that I didn't have to come back. I was excited of course, my first time out of the house in 10 years why wouldn't I be. The joy didn't last long. Exactly 30 minutes later when it was my birthday, I was killed in a hit and run. I don't remember much and at first I didn't even know I was dead. I went home to tell my parents goodbye and that I was ready to move on. Thats when I noticed the change. Instead of opening the door, I walked through it and my sister who always stopped to look at me ran past and didn't even look my way. I still didn't understand so I went to ask my parents about what was going on. What I heard in return only made me more confused and made my blood boil. They talked in ushed tones. "Is it done?" My mom asked into her phone.
   I could hear the person on the other end of the phone. "Yes, there is no way he survived that hit. He was dead before he landed back on the ground.'
   "Good, that piece of shit had it coming. Why couldn't he by more like his darling sister."

     I couldn't wrap my mind around anything. It wasn't till after my funeral two days after I died did I learn the turth behind my death and my 10 years of torment.  My parents had become so taken with my sisters beauty that they thought I needed to be like her. But the years leading up to my 8th birthday my parents finally understood I could never be like her. My father became a drunk and took his anger out on my mother, then they would take their anger and hatred for each other out on me. I didn't have blonde hair or bright blue eyes or glowing skin. The love they once had for my black hair and clear grey eyes vanished along with their love for their own son. After 10 years they both decided that the only way to deal with me was to kill me. So they hired a hit man to kill me on an unknown street and location where my body wouldn't be found till the morning but it would already be to late to save me. After my sudden death, the police investagating my murder traced a number to mothers phone and so they packed what they could in the little time they had and left. They never came home.
      
        I still don't understand the real reasons behind what they did and maybe they did what they did simply because they could. I can't tell the difference anymore. I'm forever trapped in the home where I spent the most important years of my life being beaten, stabbed, cut, battered, and tourtoured behind closed doors where no one will ever know the truth. The only sounds I hear anymore are the soft dying whispers created by the wind that blows through the rotting house. I long for the day where maybe...just maybe someone from the outside can show me something better, show me what it feels like to be loved like my parents should have done so long ago. But for now I will wait in silence all the while the world outside those locked doors keeps moving forward, I will be stuck in the past forever remembering the horrible things done to me all because I coulnd't look like my sister.