DYW2KMS: Jessi Casket (Book 1)~ Needs Rewriting!

12.Just A Piece Of The P.I.E

How did I... huh... Doesn't matter. He shouldn't have surprised someone, even if they were sleeping. It's his fault. He shouldn't have been in my room. He shouldn't have stood in the way of the book. He shouldn't have... no, I shouldn't have. I hurt him and not just with his eye. I made the decision to keep what had happened a secret. And now I'm "punishing" him for it. I think ... or maybe I'm just punishing myself for it and he got caught in the crossfire. I don't know anymore. I thought I was over him. I thought I was done... I thought I could go on with my life, however, screwed it now is. I'm not the same person I was. In fact, I don't think I can even pretend I am. Sure I can do ... something... but I think that's stupid, What's the point of keeping myself a secret when I have so many as it is. Secrets are my guilty.... well there just my guilty. But still... it's quite enjoyable. Like I said before if you really think about it what KILLS more than a secret?

By the time I got back to The room, I had calmed down. It wasn't long but I burned off as much anger as I could at that moment. There really wasn't much to be said. I HURT JOHNNY, COMPLETELY BLINDED HIS ONE EYE, SCARRED HIM FOR LIFE. I don't even know how I did it. I went full throttle on my powers when I was cleaning up the room which happened after I had gone full throttle destroying it. I was utterly drained, I had left nothing in me. It just makes no sense how I was able to fling a book across the room with enough force and precision to take his freaking eye out when I was practically unconscious. What did I do? Why did I... THE HECK!!

I ran over to Ghost and watched as his eye slowly heal itself. The eyeball was reconstructing itself as the skin around it started to swell and bruise, obviously getting blood back to the site of the wound. Ghost started to toss and turn as the recovery caused him some discomfort. Out of instinct, I go to grab his hand and as soon as we touch he relaxes. By now the swelling around his eye has gone down and his eye and been completely reconstructed. It looked almost normal... well, except there was no color in his eyes, and it looked like it was painted. It was just pure white, black only showing up in the pupil which I doubt actually sees anything.

I take off any bandages that were still on him and threw them on the desk. I took the wipes I had grabbed and started to clean around his eye. His blood still clinging to his flesh even after I used soap. It took some time but it did start to come off without too much scrubbing. After I was done cleaning him up, I went to grab all the dirty bandages and stuff to throw away. When out the corner of my eyes, I saw his eye start to get color. Now the simple fact that it was still open despite not being held and the fact he was sleeping, was weird enough. However, the gradual change in color actually frightened me. I repeat... IT ACTUALLY FRIGHTENED ME! It was like a lava lamp at first, or... maybe... it was like it was draining the white out, but also filling it with a washed out reddish coral color at the same time. I don't know how to explain it. though that didn't keep up, once the white was completely out, the washed out red sorta fell into the background allowing the normal eye pigmentation and veins to show. It looked like an honest to god eye, with the color slowly gaining saturation, until it became a deeper darker... purer red.

"Jimmy ..." escaped my lips causing me to tense up, and a yelp caught in my chest as johnny, or Jimmy or whoever, darted upward opening both eyes in the process. Both eyes the unmistakable blood red color that I've learned to love.  I took a step back only to bump into my desk. Johnny, startled awake looks at me with confusion. He blinks the red out of his eyes and returns it back to the beautiful hazel that used to haunt me.

"Jessi?..." he slammed himself into me hugging me relentlessly and making us fall into the desk. "Sorry, its just you've been asleep for awhile. I kept telling Johnny that you needed a hospital, but he just kept telling me no, you'd be ok. I thought I... we ... you wouldn't wake up." Wait what's going on? Ghost has never reacted to... well... anything this way. How long has it been... I heard Toast start to fuss which brought me back to the present.

"Ghost is that you? Why are you up, its like 3 in the morning." I couldn't help but giggle Toast was always bad at telling time but this is funny. Not that I can blame him, he isn't even awake, not really anyway. 

"Well actually it's probably more like 8 or 9 in the morning but I haven't really checked the clock so yeah let say its 3." Both me and Johnny start laughing hysterically. Which only got worse when Toast tried to jump up out of the recliner, resulting in him falling back and banging his head on the lamp. The sheet went in the air only to get tangled up in his legs and the footrest. I went over to help him as ghost continued to laugh at Toast like no tomorrow. It was going to take longer than expected because he was tangled really good to the footrest of the chair, and I soon found that there was no way I was going to get the sheet untangled with just my hands. So I stepped back and, trying not to use that much power, forced the threads of the fabric to separate, and then after it did, it reassembled itself to be used again. it was quite a spectacle, threads and strings of fabric flying and floating, breaking and then fixing itself, it was a bit more than I had wanted. I honestly just wanted it to rip... I guess I REALLY need to work on control. 

Once again I was slammed into a hug, This time falling over on to my hand. Let's just say the words that came out of my mouth were not suitable to be written in this journal. Why am I always getting hurt?

"Oh, My God... Jessi, I'm so sorry... It's not broken is it." I tried moving my hand but the pain was too much for me. I shook my head knowing full well it very well might be, however, I'm not going to give my brother guilt for my hand breaking when it might not be... right?... RIGHT? I don't have a single idea whats going on with me. Ghost grabs my hand exceedingly harder than he should have, and I braced for immense pain, but there wasn't any. in fact, I felt no pain at all. I pulled my hand from his and inspected it as if it were a foreign object. Earning me quite a few weird looks from the boys. 

"How..." Realization struck Toast like a hammer to the face. He took me by the hands and pulled me out of the room and into the hallway. We made our way to the living room and out into the garden. The garden wasn't an exact replica of the one at grandmother's but I did take my favorite parts of it and replicated it as best as I could... I also added things what I thought might appeal to the others as well, though the garden has always primarily been my spot.

The beautiful colors and stunning scents always seemed able to calm and ground me. That's why whenever I got upset I always came out here. And just like always the wind came to great me, sending my hair into a frenzy, and surrounding me with the sents of the garden. I was instantly felt calmer. In fact, I relaxed immensely, and I didn't even know I was so nerve-racked.

Toast took me the bench overlooking the pond and sat down, I followed suit. I bent over to pick up a flower on the walkway, and it wrapped its stem around my wrist turning itself into a bracelet. 

"I see you're a..."

"Paranormal Entity?"

"Yeah, that."

"Does that bother you... brother." The look on his face, I might as well have just slapped him. It was like I had just accused him of judging me. But... That's what I was worried about. Him judging me. I can handle it from those pin-minded closed-off derp-heads, but not my own brother. There is already so much he can't know about me, I don't want this to be what pushes him away. 

"I am a Paranormal Investigator. I work with ghosts, demons, and other entities on a daily basis. Not all of them are bad, In fact, Ghost..." He stopped short. I knew what he meant though. I've always suspected Ghost to be some sort of entity not like me no but still paranormal. That's why he is so drawn to it, and it to him. Over the past year, I stopped calling myself "Psychic". Toast he's a psychic, I'm an op freak, but still... I love being me.