Read Haunting Zoe for Free Online

band-aid over the cut.
When that’s done I just sit there for a minute with my eyes fixated
on the spring behind the door. I’m trying to decide what to do,
what to say. I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten.
    “Still here,” he says when I open them. I
sigh.
    “Why?”
    “Why what?”
    “Why are you here?” I ask, finally looking
up. “And what exactly are you?”
    “Well, I’m here because for some weird reason
you can see me when no one else can.”
    I sit back, still clutching the plastic first
aid box to my chest.
    “Why can I see you?”
    He cocks his head, “How am I supposed to
know?” He rubs his hand down his face in frustration, then glares
at me. “Do you see dead people often?”
    I make a face. “No. you’re the first.”
    He throws his hands up. “Great. Just freaking
great. The one person who can see me, and she has no clue what’s
going on.” His eyes fall back to mine, “I was really hoping you’d
have some answers.”
    “Well, I don’t. So maybe you should just…you
know. Go.”
    “Go where exactly?”
    I stand up. “I don’t know! Go into the light
or something. Shit, what do I look like? A ghost expert?”
    “You look like the only person who can see
and hear me.”
    I let out a deep breath and squeeze the
bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. “This isn’t
happening. This is just some bad dream.”
    “Yeah, that’s what I told myself too. For
days I stood in my living room screaming at my parents while they
sobbed over my picture. I thought I was losing my mind. Then I
followed them to the funeral. And I saw you.”
    I flick my hands and he moves so I can toss
the kit back under the sink. I turn and walk to my room with him
following me.
    “This is exactly why I don’t go to funerals,”
I huff and flop onto my chair.
    “ This is why you don’t go to
funerals?” he asks, one eyebrow arched.
    I shrug. “Fine, not this exactly. But
nothing good ever comes from funerals. People are always like, you should go, get some closure . But that’s all a load of
crap. All it is, is another way to traumatize yourself. Just more
bad memories to heap onto the pile.”
    He sits on the edge of my bed, Brimstone
stands, arches her back in a stretch, then looks right at him,
hisses and runs out of the room.
    “Looks like you aren’t the only one who can
see me.”
    “That bi-polar cat is not proof that you
aren’t just a figment of my over caffeinated, over Poe’d
imagination.”
    “This is getting old. How can I prove I’m
really here?”
    My head is beginning to ache. “I don’t know.
Being haunted is new to me, can you give me a minute to come to
grips, please ?”
    He sits back on his hands. “Fine. One minute.
Clock starts now.”
    I throw a pillow at him and it passes right
through. “Well, I suppose I should have expected that,” I mumble.
He rolls his eyes.
    I squint. “What are you in such a hurry for,
anyway? You kind of have, I don’t know, forever, right?”
    Then something dawns on me. “Oh my God. You
aren’t going to haunt me forever, right? I mean, this isn’t going
to be my life now. Being followed around by an arrogant pain in the
ass ghost?”
    “Keep up the flattery and I just might.”
    I lean my head back and close my eyes. “I
hate my life.”
    “You know, that’s a pretty bitchy thing to
say in front of a guy who no longer has one.”
    My head snaps up and I stare at him. I hadn’t
really thought of it that way. From his perspective, he must be
miserable, in a special kind of hell.
    “Sorry.”
    He shrugs it off, but I can still see traces
of pain etched in the curve of his jaw.
    His white and blue plaid shirt is open and
exposing the grey t-shirt beneath. He’s wearing a pair of khaki
shorts and sneakers.
    “Are you cold?” I ask without really
thinking. Autumn air has come early and with the rain, it’s
probably below sixty degrees outside.
    He looks down at his outfit. “Nope. I don’t
really feel temperature at