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iii ◦〉"haunting" pt.1 〉𝔯𝔲𝔢

"I fucking hate you," she seethed, "You're pathetic. A selfish fucking liar and thief, Y/N. I had to walk you here just so you didn't die in a ditch somewhere when you took my shit and walked like a clumsy dope around the street. Don't ever talk to me again. Not in school. Not on the phone. Just pretend I never fucking met you."

After that, she slammed your door closed, leaving you alone in your own wallow of self pity. Half way into her screaming, the alcohol kicked in, and every bit of sadness you felt hit you like a moving train.

Although the impulse was screaming at you, a bigger, newer on was telling you to melt like puddle onto the floor-turning away from the table where the drugs had fallen and hiding under the covers.

You cried there for hours, and after you'd gotten hungover-you drank some more, and repeated your sobbing session over her for the next few weeks, trying to numb your emotions. Rue was gone, and she was never coming back.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

"Wake up, sunshine."

It was midnight, and you were just about to go to sleep when you heard a soft voice sspeak out loud. The creepy thing was-you practically lived alone.

You jolted up, eyes snapping open upon seeing her standing on your bed, although you couldn't feel her as she leaned over you.

No, it couldn't be. Rue was dead. It was on the talk of the school yesterday. She was dead, and according to the gossip, it was an overdose no one knew the drug if yet.

This had to be some hallucination. She couldn't be on your bed, wearing her same hand-me-down red jacket from her father, along with your favorite plaid dark green pants with chains you lent her that she never gave back after you broke up.

That alone made you realise many things you'd lost when she left, and how they weren't coming back after you were gone.

For one thing, you weren't getting your pants back. Just as surely, you were going to need a lot of therapy once your mind stopped playing tricks on you.

"You're not real," you said out loud, shaking your head and trying to convince yourself the words you spoke were true. "You're dead. I'm just dreaming."

"Aww, you dream about me?"

Ru-whatever this fantasy of her your eyes were tricking you with had a mind of its own, clasping it's hand over it's mouth and giddly stood up, stomping its feet on your bed in excitement. It seemed to enjoy mocking you. All the while, the bed reminded still, only seeming to move when you in shock, screamed and huddled to the corner of your bed.

"It's not real. Fuck."

"I'm a she," the phantom of Rue corrected, hovering closer to you. "And I am."

Well, at the very least, it got her pronouns right.

You had to be on some type of drugs. It was secretly a safe haven that after Rue broke up with you, your source of money for them was gone. You hadn't liked being sober very much, because the urges to use again that you didn't have a dime to buy drugs for were absolute hell. Still, it was best Rue left, and let you remain comfortable in the numbness inside of you. Cold, upset, lonely, and numb.