THERE WAS A GHOST IN MY ROOM.
I could feel it pulling on me, pulling on me to open up. To open that final barrier guarding them from my world. It scraped it's claws down my walls, crooning at me. I couldn't open it. I couldn't let it through, couldn't help it move forward. I wanted to; I really did. But I could sense that this one . . . wasn't right. It felt so wrong. Letting it through would be catastrophic. God knows I didn't need another catastrophe right now. It was bad enough being a teenager, but a teenager who sees ghosts? A teenager who can communicate and interact with them?
I was crazy.
Schizophrenic, that's what the doctors told me. Told my family.
I've been on medication since I was thirteen, and yet, the ghosts are still here. Still lurking in my mind, pushing and clawing against me—pounding their fists against my shields. It drove me crazy, but I kept them at bay. I didn't let them out—well, not anymore at least. As a child I hadn't realized that it wasn't normal to have them around. I thought everyone saw them, heard their cries and pleas. But no, it was only me.
I didn't think I was crazy, but every doctor told my parents otherwise. My mom watches over me like a hawk. She let me finish off middle school with my friends, but then shipped me off to private school with my brothers. They had been going before I had, but Mum made it official the minute she found out about my "illness" that we'd all attend there. Where Mum and Dad could be involved around the school and could monitor me.
It was all bullshit.
I hated the school, I wanted to go to high school with my friends. Two of my close friends made the switch with me—I think Mum convinced their parents to enroll them, because of the education and because I would be there with them. Or she might have paid them off. I wasn't sure, she never told me what happened when she talked to their parents.
I had a small group of friends, including the two who came with me from middle school. The other two were invited in because of my best friend Tally—Tallulah—she had wanted us to branch out, and that's exactly what she did. She dragged Hollis and I with her. Where we met Willa and Aideen. They were not people I would have picked to be a part of my life, but sometimes you don't get to pick your loved ones.
I certainly didn't.
My friends were crazy and loud, but really—I was the only crazy one.
"Jillian?" my mother called from the hall outside of my room. She knocked when I didn't respond. I couldn't focus, not with her pounding, and the ghost pounding against my mind. His screams ringing through my ears. God today was going to suck.
"Jill," my mother was suddenly behind me in the mirror. I shrieked, throwing a hand over my racing heart. She placed her hands up defensively. "Sorry! I was calling you."
I turned around, fully facing her. My mother looked tired, dark circles drowning her grey eyes. Her dark hair was limp on her shoulders. Not done up—like it usually was—and didn't have it's usual volume. My mother's hair was always curled, sometimes natural, other times due to her curler. But today— what was wrong?
"Sorry, I was—"
"Have you not been taking your meds?" asked Mum.
My brows pinched together. "Pardon?"
My mother pulled out my bottle of medication and opened it, she held the cap in one hand while she showed me the contents of my bottle.
"Your bottle has been this full for weeks, are you not taking them?"
I sighed, exasperatedly. I ran a hand over my face. "I am taking them, the bottle I've been using is in my bathroom."
My mother screwed the cap back on and braced her hands on her hips. My pulse began to thrum, a headache building through me.
"Mum," I said, tiredly. "It's seven thirty in the morning and my head is pounding. If you want to accuse me of something, can you do it later, or when I'm back from school? My bottle is on the counter if you'd like to further your investigation." I opened my arm, gesturing for her to go ahead.
My mother's face sobered, turning softer. "Have you taken anything for the headache? Do you want to stay home?"
I sighed inwardly. Just one morning, I would've liked to be able to get dressed without an interrogation. She doesn't want me taking over the amount I'm prescribed—because she can't fathom the idea of her daughter turning into a drug addict. But she doesn't want me not taking them, because her daughter shouldn't be seeing ghosts. Taking my pills makes me "normal" in her mind.
"No, I'll take an Advil, I've got a bio test today. I can't miss it."
Her eyes narrowed. "I still don't understand why you decided to take harder courses, your course load is incredibly heavy. It isn't good for your—"
"My ghosts?" I filled in. "I wanted to take it, Mummy. And I'm enjoying my class, can we please just drop it," and with that I walked into my bathroom, knowing she would follow. I felt like screaming Ah-Ha! when she did. She walked straight over to my counter and investigated my bottle. She sighed when she realized she was wrong.
"I'm sorry—"
"I need to pee," I told her, hoping she would take the hint and leave. Thankfully, she did. She gave me a small smile before leaving.
I was the reason my mother was this neurotic. The amount of stress I had put her under had really affected her mind. And I was to blame, for all of it.
I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth and hair, put on deodorant and walked back out of my bathroom, only to see Jeremy laying on my bed. His dark brown curls hid his eyes, his wire frame glasses were in the hand he had draped across his forehead. He was still in his pajama's. He didn't open his eyes as I crossed through my room and over to my dresser.
"I think I am dying, it feels serious, Jill." Said Jeremy.
I reined in my snort, "Oh? And why's that?"
My bed creaked as he sat up. "My hands are clammy, my head hurts, my stomach aches. It feels serious—Why won't you look at me? This is incredibly important. If you treat your future patients like this, you'll be a terrible doctor."
I smiled and turned around.
So overly dramatic. I wanted to roll my eyes.
"Okay, okay, I'm looking."
"Thank you, was that so hard? No, it was not, little sister. Anyways, back to what I was saying. Ah! I remember. So, I think I'm dying."
I narrowed my eyes and walked over to him. I turned over his palms to find them clammy as he said, and his eyes were straining. Clearly dealing with a migraine. I dropped his hand back down and tapped my chin.
"I think I have a prognosis,"
"Lay it on me, doc, I can take it."
"You're suffering from, Lorelai O'Rian syndrome. Unfortunately, there is no cure, and the disease is quite fatal."
"Fatal," He screeched, his voice rising an octave. His screech seemed to draw attention to my other brothers roaming the halls. The twins popped their heads in, Jaxon rolled his eyes at Jeremy's face.
"What is the princess whining over this time?" my eldest brother asked—Jaxon—his nose wrinkling in disgust at Jeremy. His grey eyes roved over both of us, noting the pajama's. "Why aren't you both dressed? We need to leave for practice soon and Jill I'm giving you a ride."
"Well," I said, dramatically. "I was getting ready when Mum came in and accused me of not taking my meds," all three of my brothers' eyes went hard at the mention of me not taking my meds, even though I was taking them. "And then drama queen over here," I waved my hand up and down at Jeremy, "was sprawled on my bed complaining he was dying from some new type of illness—"
"Disease," he corrected.
"Oh, of course, my mistake. Some new type of disease and said it felt 'serious'."
Jeremy narrowed his eyes at me. "I don't appreciate the mocking; it did indeed feel serious at the time. But now that I think about it—it sounds like a headache."
My eldest brothers ignored Jeremy, both their attentions wholly on me. "You haven't been taking your meds?" Jace asked me.
I sighed inwardly again—here we go. I walked over to my dresser and resumed picking out my clothes for the day. "No, I have. Mum didn't remember that I keep a bottle in my room and was upset that the one in the kitchen was full."
Jace sat on my bed beside Jeremy, who was blissfully unaware of what was going on. His head was bent over his phone, shooting off text after text to someone. Probably some unfortunate girl who somehow how acquired his number, or if he got hers. I didn't know.
Jax remained quiet, he leaned up against my door frame, watching—watching me. They always did that, always watched me like I was a fine piece of china about to shatter.
They looked at me like there was something wrong with me. I hated it.
"Mum's been really stressed recently—she's worried about you, Jill." Jace said, his face stern and hard. His no bullshit face. He only put that look on when he was stressed or pissed. I assumed it was the former, but if it was the latter, we'd have words. And it'd end with me kicking him and the rest of the tall buffoons out of my room.
"She shouldn't be, there's nothing to be worried about," I said flatly, my tone offering up no further discussion on the topic. But of course, he pushed.
"You've been working yourself really hard this year, she doesn't want you to have another—"
"Episode?" I answered, with enough disdain in my voice to make the room quiet. Jeremy looked up from his phone. Wariness running through his eyes. "I know you all think I'm sort of freak, but I'm not going to lose my shit and unleash hell upon all of you."
Jeremy snorted. Jax and Jace sent him a withering look that had him covering his laugh with a pointed cough.
"No one said you were a freak—"
I looked at him through my mirror, "But it was implied."
"You are not a freak." Said Jax, his tone final.
It didn't matter how many times they said it, they always acted like I was. Some type of crazy person. I wanted to pull my hair out, but of course I couldn't do that. The minute I did they would think I was having another episode. Because a teenage girl can't get upset without it being a result of her illness.
"I need to get dressed," I said to the room.
"Get changed in the bathroom," Jeremy said, head bowing over his phone again. I scrunched my face up at him. "It's my room—get out."
Jace and Jaxon looked between me and Jeremy. "I'm quite comfortable right here," my brother said flopping down onto my bed. Stretching his arms out wide. Jace grinned at him. I looked at Jaxon for help, he gave me a half shrug.
It's Jeremy, what can we do? He seemed to say. I wanted to throttle all of them. Instead, I scooped up my jeans and sweater and made my way into the bathroom. Muttering curse words under my breath the whole time.
Jeremy was definitely the most immature out of all of us. Then Jace, I follow after and then Jaxon. But Jaxon is like a statue half the time. More like our enforcer, coming in to break up fights and arguments. There to restore order and peace. He always seemed to be a completely different person at school compared to at home. He was outgoing and very talkative, but the minute he got home he liked to lock himself in his room and blast music.
I think that's the one thing we had in common. I liked to be friendly and talkative at school but at home I liked to be alone—but Mum doesn't let me have much me time. She thinks it's not good for my health to be left alone in my own mind for too long.
I didn't exactly agree but I couldn't object.
My mind was a terrible place to be. I could always feel their cries then. Their wails.
It was excruciating.
I slipped into my ripped jeans and sweatshirt Tally bought me for Christmas last year. A red pull over sweatshirt that says I hate mornings on the chest. I put on some mascara and concealer for my acne and eye bags.
I glanced at myself in the mirror, frowning. Always frowning.
It always bothered me how I never looked like anyone in my family. My brother's were all thin and muscled, dark curly hair and grey eyes, sharp jaws and cheekbones. They looked like Mum. I looked more like Dad, blonde hair, blue-grey eyes, upturned nose, freckled skin, long legs. But the bigger body I didn't inherit from anyone.
I wasn't thin, but I wasn't fat. But I felt fat. I had the bigger thighs, bigger arms, fuller breasts, long hands. I had to cover my stomach with high-waisted jeans, or leggings. And if that didn't work or I felt more self-conscious than usual I would wear baggy shirts or oversized sweaters.
I guess my weight got really bad when I was starting to show symptoms for schizophrenia. I was always fighting with my friends, I was sad all the time, which lead to overeating. Eating my problems away. I've been trying to lose the weight, and I have—I was a lot better than what I used to be, but I didn't look the way I wanted to look.
I sighed before pushing my hair off my shoulders and walking out of the bathroom, scooping up my pajama's off the floor in the process.
My brother's were still in my room. Jeremy was entranced by something on his phone, Jaxon and Jace were having some sort of conversation that died the minute I walked into the room.
"Hey," Jeremy said shooting up from the bed. "Sam's coming over, can you drive him as well?"
"Sam?" I asked, stalking across my room towards my hamper. "Doesn't he live closer to the school than we do?"
"Woman, do not get me started."
I threw him a glare over my shoulder. "Call me woman again and I'll bash your head into the wall."
Jaxon and Jace chuckled, Jeremy made a face. "Why are you always aggressive, Jillian?"
"Why are you always opening your mouth, Jeremiah?"
He grinned crookedly, white teeth flashing. "But when I open my mouth I—"
"Okay, okay," said Jax, coming over to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. "you've made your point, Jer. Sam can come, but you three are sitting in the back." He directed at Jace and Jeremy. I smiled up at my brother, who didn't look at me, but I could see the faint amusement in his eyes.
Jace's jaw dropped. "Why does she get to sit in the front—"
"Because she doesn't bother me, and Jill's much quieter compared to you two."
"That is not true."
"Yesterday both of you were screaming at each other from the front seat, and I had to pull over and throw both of you out of the car."
"Yes, I remember it well," Jeremy said, his eyes turning reminiscent. "It was a dreadful day, Jace and I were young travelers—left on the side of the road for all to see. We had to hike our way through mountains—"
"Oh, please. For the love of God, would you just shut up?" Jace hissed.
Jeremy pointed a finger at him. "It was very traumatizing, Jason. Am I not allowed to talk about my trauma anymore? My fears? I thought this was an accepting household." He threw his arms in the air. "But it appears not! Oh mon Dieu!"
Jax prodded at me to leave the room, because the argument was starting to escalate and when someone got Jeremy started—there was no getting him back until he was screaming for his rights back. I felt inclined to laugh but Jaxon's face was irritated. Laughing at how stupid Jeremy was being would have me riding in the trunk on the way to school. So, I kept my mouth shut.
I knew better than to argue with Jeremy's dramatics as well, something Jace still has not learned to do. It's always better to indulge Jeremy on whatever he's going on about. Rather than being pulled down the rabbit hole—like Jace was.
Jaxon led us out of my room and into the hall. My bare feet were cushioned by the carpeting of the hallway. He closed my door and rolled his eyes.
"I don't think it's safe to leave them in there unsupervised. I fret that my room will suffer greatly."
Jaxon gave me an exasperated look. "Go eat breakfast loser," he said, stalking back to his room at the hall. "We'll leave at eight."
I hummed in answer and made my way downstairs.
I did not want to see Sam, I always felt so distant and weird around him. We used to be good friends but when he started hanging out at my house after school he'd go and hang with Jeremy and sometimes, they'd all go out together. He then turned into my brothers' friend. Not mine. It sucked.
I padded into the kitchen to see Dad sitting behind the counter, sipping his coffee. He had a book open in his hand. I dropped into the stool beside him and peered at what he was reading. It was a history book about Pearl Harbour.
"Good morning," he said, lowering his book and offering me a faint smile.
I nodded at the book. "What happened to the Salem Witch trials book you were reading?"
He groaned. "Ach, don't remind me."
A bemused smile curled at my lips. "That bad, huh?"
He nodded. "I tried, but it was just too . . . descriptive. I love history, but this specific book was too heavy—and I've read all the gory messed up books from World War one and two."
I pondered that for a minute. "What if you just take a break from history for a bit, I've got some fantasy books that you haven't read yet that are pretty good."
He squeezed my shoulder. "I might just have to take you up on that."
I stared at my father for moment. Memorizing his face. Always the same, even throughout the years, always the same. Same beard, same dark blonde hair, same green eyes. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, he broke them again and had taped them back together instead of going out and buying a new pair. Mum always nagged him about it—taking care of himself. He rarely did. Mum fussed over him quite a bit, but Dad was always in his own world. Or in a book. I felt much closer to him than my mother. Him I could sit beside and read, I could become absorbed into a new world and if I looked over at him, I could see he was too.
My father squeezed my shoulder once more before dropping his hand and returning to his book. "Have you eaten yet?"
I shook my head. "Not hungry."
"Liar," he handed me his half-eaten banana from his plate. "Your mother will kill me if I let you walk out of this house without at least something in your stomach."
I wrinkled my nose. "And your half-eaten banana is going to solve that?"
His thick brows furrowed. He gave me a look. The don't fight me on this look. I rolled my eyes and took a bite of his banana. My stomach recoiled—it didn't matter how many times I told everyone that I felt nauseous in the mornings and never felt like eating, they always forced me. I started leaving for school earlier, before any of them were downstairs waiting—so they wouldn't see that I'd left without breakfast.
I heard one of my brothers jump down the steps with a loud thud, that had Dad's teeth grinding. And I instantly knew who it was. And then the idiot walked in, grinning from ear to ear. Dad pointed at him, with that death finger that meant trouble, and Jeremy halted his gait. Grin slipping from his lips.
"What?" asked Jeremy.
Dad narrowed his eyes, causing Jeremy to swallow. "What have I told you about jumping down the stairs?" my father demanded, his voice low and venomous. "We have been to the hospital far too many times this year, and I swear to God, Jeremiah, if I have to take you one more time because you broke something, you will be in the hospital far longer after I'm done with you."
Jeremy's eyes became saucers. I tried my hardest not to double over with laughter. Dad's sneer kept me in place.
The doorbell rang, and I could have sworn Jeremy let out a sigh of relief. He raced over to the door, leaving Dad and I alone in the kitchen. Not for long though, because he came back a minute later with his arm around Sam's shoulders. Sam looked incredibly tired and exasperated already, which brought a small smile to my face.
"Morning, Sam." My father said in greeting.
Sam smiled at him. "Morning sir."
He looked at me then, those light brown eyes locking on mine. I wanted to sigh in content. Just looking at him made my heart settle. Those dimples appearing in his lopsided smile, his brown hair fluffed, his rosy cheeks. Everything about him made me want to turn into liquid and melt into a puddle on the floor. I told myself it was because of how nice he was, how caring he could be. But that lie stopped having a meaning the minute he ditched me for my brothers.
"Hey Jill." He said warmly.
"Hey," I replied and turned away, back to my father, who was giving me a curious look. I narrowed my eyes, hoping he could see the silent message in them. And he did, because his expression changed. "Is there any way that you can drive me today?"
Of course, my other two brothers decided to pop in once I asked. Jaxon gave me a confused look, but I focused on Dad.
My father rubbed at his beard. "I'm sorry, I can't. Gotta be into work earlier today. Why? Aren't your brothers driving you?"
I sighed. "Yeah, my head's killing though, I wanted to lie down for a bit, but it's fine. Hopefully the Advil kicks in." The lie was smooth on my tongue.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.
I ignored his question because Dad was already talking. "I can ask your mother—"
"No!" I screeched, the room chuckled, except for me and Dad. "She'll pester me with questions the entire way and convince me I'm dying!"
"Then you're stuck with us," Jax said, I groaned and turned on my stool to glare at them all. They glared back. Damn them.
"It appears so," I muttered under my breath before leaving the kitchen and going back up the stairs so grab my socks and bag. I slipped on a pair of black ankle socks and slung my grey backpack over my shoulder. I made my way back downstairs and into the kitchen where everyone was waiting. Dad came over and dropped a kiss on my cheek before telling me he had to go to work and that he'd see me later. I kissed his cheek and walked to the foyer to shove on my vans and coat. The October weather was chilly. Welcome to Canada.
The boys came in and instantly crowded the room. I scowled at all of them and slipped outside, shutting the door behind me. I walked over to the car, I leaned my back against the passenger side door and plugged in my headphones.
Blasting my City and Colour playlist.
I was entering my own thoughts, letting my mind roam.
But my mind kept roaming back to Sam. I just wanted to escape him, I never wanted to see him. And yet, I was forced too. Forced to spend time with him. Forced to be civil and pleasant. Forced to be cheery when all I wanted to do was scream and scream at him. Scream and cry at him for how he treated me. How he forgot about me and ditched me for the rest of my family. He spent more time with my parents than he ever did with me!
I was allowed to be upset. He dumped me off like a piece of trash he was throwing away—he forgot I existed and found someone better. He found the rest of my normal family and cast the crazy girl aside. All I ever wanted was for him to see me, to understand me. Because maybe if he could—
So could others. A voice said in my mind. It had me ripping out my headphones, with a soft yelp. What the hell was that? Was it me—
"Nice taste in music," someone said to my right. This time I screeched. I jumped away from the car. A boy around my age was leaned up against my brother's car. He was tall and looked like some sort of warrior. He was in a hoodie, but I could see all the bulk underneath it. The boy smirked down at me. He had copper hair, and dark green eyes that looked like pits of nightmares. He had a light grey beanie on that matched his hoodie.
"City and Colour?" he asked. My mouth went dry, I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded. "Which song?" he gestured to my phone that I was clutching so tightly in my hands. I was sure it was going to snap in half.
"Hurry and the Harm," I replied, my voice came out distant and confused.
He raised a fiery brow. "The album or the song?"
"Song," I replied, looking around us, scanning for my brothers. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"No," he said, "do you know me?"
I shook my head.
"Glad to have settled that." He declared. He rubbed his hands together, breathing warm air into them. "It's a good album, I prefer the Sometimes album though, but that song is good. You know he's Canadian?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I did."
He smiled. My knees nearly buckled at the look alone. He was gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. He looked like a piece of art, sculpted into perfection. No one needed to look that good, it wasn't fair. I envied people like him, who could look perfect effortlessly.
"What's your favourite song?" he asked.
I was so confused. Who the hell was he and why was he leaning against my brothers car and asking me questions about City and Colour? I mean, it was kinda cool that someone else my age knew who he was and his music, well, he had written an album with P!nk but I didn't think most people knew about it. That album was really good too. I remember my mom and I blasting it when it came out. We had gone to Walmart and bought the You+Me CD and listened to it the whole car ride home. She was the one who introduced me to him, it was always common ground between us. Music.
Same with Dad, and then later—books.
"Mine is The Grand Optimist and Comin' Home, I can't decide though." He said.
"The Grand Optimist is one of my favourites," I said. "But it has to be Save Your Scissors. That song got me into listening to him, it's been my favourite song since I was nine." My lips twitched at the memory.
"The finger picking is pretty cool for that song," he said thoughtfully, "I always tried learning the song—but he tunes his guitar differently, so I can't ever get it to sound like his."
I gaped at him; I was convinced we were the same person. I had spent months trying to learn that song before giving up because the strumming pattern confused me. But the finger picking was so pretty I just wanted to learn it. It also didn't help when my guitar teacher told me he doesn't tune his guitar like everyone else—I was royally pissed off.
"Me too!" I gushed, "It's my favourite song and I spent weeks trying to work out the strumming pattern with my guitar teacher. And then the finger picking on top of that— we settled for Comin' Home instead, the chords were much easier."
He scoffed. "I'd hardly call it easier," he said, "maybe the chords are, but there is finger picking in there too!"
I laughed, it felt freeing. "True. But it felt much easier compared to Save Your Scissors."
He settled against the car. "Fair enough—"
My front door opened, I glanced over to see my brothers and Sam bounding down the steps and laughing.
I looked back to the boy beside me only to see nothing.
No one was there, it was just me.
Dread pooled through me.
I took my pills; I shouldn't be seeing—
Jax unlocked the car, I climbed into the passenger seat, trying my hardest to hide the tears from escaping down my face. I shouldn't be seeing people.
Of course, my mind decided to send me someone who was interested in something I liked, then to be mean and spite me, they took him away. Making me feel like the insane person I was.
It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair.
I strapped on my seat belt and plugged in my headphones. I switched playlists, making sure to avoid City and Colour. Anything but him, right now.
I heard Sam call my name and I ignored him, turning up my music and tuning him out. Tuning this whole world fucking out. I heard Jax tell Sam I wasn't feeling well and that I couldn't hear him. When we got to school, I gave him a thankful look. He patted my shoulder then took off to the gym for soccer practice.
I met up with Aideen, she was here early because of pickle ball tryouts.
Please don't get me started on the ridiculous sport.
She had finished early, and we went to the library. She had some homework and projects to catch up on and I was more than happy to sit with her in the quiet and study for my bio test this afternoon.
But I couldn't focus, my attention kept drifting back to the boy with copper hair.
Was he real? Or another ghost? It'd be a shame if he were a ghost, those good looks rotting in a grave. He had appeared and disappeared quickly, it had to have been in my head. Which meant I was getting worse. Ghosts were now able to get through.
Not good not good.
Especially when they were cute ghosts.
Not good not good.