{On Hold}
Sang Sorenson is a ghost. She doesn't exist, at least not legally. Although, Sang's family wishes that she was a ghost, that she was never born in the first place. Little did they know that Sang wished that as well. Then, one night, somet...
I don't know how long it has been, I just know that I needed water. My lips had started to crack and turn slightly white. It was hard to move my tongue, it was so dry. I think I remember reading somewhere that the human body could survive without water for only about a week. I knew it wasn't that long, but I really did need to get out of this attic space soon. I had been sitting in the same position the whole time, making my muscles tense and stiff. I had dozed off a few times, my nightmares waking me up abruptly. If I knew I'd be in here for this long, I would've made sure to stock up on some water bottles and crackers.
I wheezed softly, hating the feel of the stuffy, stale hot air going down my throat. It seriously wasn't helping my bruised lungs and dry mouth. I really needed to wrap my waist and change the bandage on my gunshot wound.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I remembered the conversation I had overheard. You see, the attic space was directly over the laundry room that connected to the kitchen. I guessed Father and Marie had been sitting at the dining table when they were being questioned by Detective Jones and Mr. Toma. Hopefully, neither of those men would be able to find out I was a part of the incident that happened. I was so nervous when I heard Mr. Toma ask about whether the furniture was moved. Somehow I know he was talking about my bookshelf in my room that Marie had pushed in front of the attic door. I don't know what Father would do if someone became aware of me.
I jumped when I heard the front door open. Father and Marie must be home now, I had heard the police leave a couple hours ago. I was about to shift, hoping that I would finally get out of here, when a voice stopped me.
"We'll have to hurry. Sorenson and his daughter will be here soon." That was definitely not my father or sister. It actually sounded a lot like Mr. Toma.
I could hear a few people moving around the house. My breathing quickened painfully, my chest moving up and down irregularly. I had no idea what to do. What if they find me? Do I try to fight? Do I run? Oh, god, what if they tried to kill me?
I heard the sliding of my bookshelf moving and flinched. I silently shifted closer to the wall, hoping that they won't come inside and see me. Light flooded into the crawl space as the door was opened.
"It looks like an attic space," a voice--not Mr. Toma's-- said.
"He could be hiding something inside," that was Mr. Toma.
Shuffling sounded as someone started coming closer towards me. Oh, god, they're going to find me! My mind raced with ways to get away, but before I realized it, I was staring into chocolate brown eyes.
The boy's jaw went slack as he took me in. He had pale skin, almost as pale as mine, and long, blond hair that fell to his chin. He had a lean, strong figure and wore light blue jeans with a white button-up shirt.
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