Ghost Of You (Formally Titled Sebastian The Traveler)

Chapter Seven (REWRITTEN)

"She jumped, a startled scream falling from her lips.

Milo dashed to the bathroom door, skidding to a stop and instantly froze as he peered inside. His hackles raised to the sky and a deep growl reverberated from his chest, the loud music threatening to drown him out completely.

Before Avery could demand her muscles to move, the song switched and a different tune now filled the space. Milo's growling immediately turned to meowing cries as he paced back and forth in front of the door, never allowing his eyes to stray from whatever was inside. His owner only gawked on, her brain refusing to send simple signals to any of her neurons—she had no idea what to do now. Just because she had decided not to see, didn't mean she couldn't hear.

The song changed once again before her feet finally found their gumption. Be that as it may, she was not Milo and therefore lacked his natural boldness. Creeping slowly toward the door, she remained plastered against the wall. She couldn't remember a time in her life where she needed courage. She didn't know how to be brave or what qualities made someone considered as such. What she did know was that there were only two directions she could go: backwards or forwards. While the direction behind her was enticing, it was also empty—physically, yes (she hoped, atleast) but more so metaphorically. Beyond her home was nothing but rude strangers and cold concrete. Before her lay her life; anything and everything that ever meant something to her at sometime was in this apartment.

She was aware, before moving to New York, that her place would be small, tiny even. It took her two days of boxing and unboxing the mementos and memories of a life in Indiana. Two days of deciding what priceless tokens meant more than others; what she could take, what she could fit, and what she couldn't or wouldn't have room for. Only her most important memorabilia made the trip with her and now, those things—her life—and her, were separated by that damn dark bathroom and whatever was residing inside it.

She was forced to make a decision.

And Avery didn't like being forced to do anything.

She had been fighting for freewill her whole life because regardless of what people think, money didn't buy everything. Her family's wealth granted her more than most but "choices" had never been on that list of things she could have to her heart's content. From the moment she was born she had been told what to do and how to think and even what to wear. She supposed that's why she chose New York, even though the hype never lived up to her expectations. So the saying, "If you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere," had a much deeper meaning for her. She would make it and she would do it without her mom and dad's influence.

Another change of song brought forth a wave of anger she had never felt and while she knew it was not wise to make decisions based solely on emotion, she didn't care. So, without even a centering breath, she stomped through the doorway and flicked on the light.

Avery wasn't sure what she had been expecting to find inside that room, better yet what she would do if she found it... but there was nothing there. With little else to focus her rage on, she glared at the demonic speaker, willing it to test her further.

As if reading her mind, a new song filled the air, someone singing if it was too late to say sorry. She scoffed at the audacity before ripping it off the counter rebelliously. Avery stalked to one of her windows and flung it open. "Screw you," she spat before sending it careening to the sidewalk below.

It smashed against the concrete, sending jagged pieces soaring into the street nearby.

***

The sky was bright blue.

Poofy, white clouds drifted over her head, morphing and transforming into various shapes she imagined as fighting dragons.

Rolling hills lay before her, painted a breathtaking dark green and stretching as far as the eyes could see. A large tree with pink petals blew gently in the breeze and Avery knew she needed to reach it, even if she didn't understand why.

Standing, she began what should have been a light trek. The tree did not appear to be that far but as she walked more than what should have been the appropriate distance, it appeared just as far away from her as before.

"Maybe, you should try running," he said, his hazel orbs dancing in mirthy nonchalance. He shrugged off her hateful stare before adding, "Seemed to work for you last time."

Ah, yes. She remembered now. "I was running away last time," she reminded him.

"Obviously," he rolled his eyes with an aggravated jeer. Avery, however, did not find his jab as amusing as he must have wished.

"Is this going to become a normal thing with you?" She asked.

With raised brows, he shoved a thumb between his teeth, attacking the skin, "I don't know what you mean, Avery."

"This!" Her hands flew before her, indicating at the space between them, "You! This is the second time I've seen you now! Why?" It may have sounded like she was mad, but she wasn't. Maybe confused and unsure, but she wasn't really mad. It was just weird to her that the same guy would be in her dreams two nights in a row. She never dreamed of anything more than once. Why was this different?

He looked offended, clutching his chest as if she had mortally wounded him, "Are you implying that I can't be the man of your dreams?"

"Stalker seems to be the more fitting title," she huffed, wishing for nothing more than a shoe she could throw at him. He was disturbing her concentration and she would never reach the tree. Alas, her subconscious apparently wanted her feet bare instead.

Then, he laughed at her. Unremorseful and loud, he threw his head back as if she had said the most entertaining thing he had ever heard, "You brought me here!"

"No. I didn't."

"Think whatever you want, but I am not here because I chose to be."

"Then why are you here?"

"I already told you."

"You told me nothing other than it wasn't that you wanted to be!"

He sighed then, running a hand down his alluring face. "Look, this isn't ideal for either of us. How about we just start over?"

Resigned to his wish, Avery sat down on the soft grass, crossing her legs in front of her, "Fine. What do I call you?"

"Nothing too harsh, I hope. Let's not proceed past anything more vulgar than dick," he glanced down at her.

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly, "So asshole is off the table?"

"Exactly," he grinned, his sights now set on the expansive landscape, "But if you want to be proper, my name is Sebastian."