You're nothing. You have no soul... worthless... a meer shadow... you don't deserve to exist... just like me...
"Shut up!" Heather yelled. Everyone in her fifth period History class turned around. Their eyes fixated on her, narrowing and trying to understand her outburst. She tried to regain her composure. "Sorry... I, ah... my phone wouldn't stop beeping..."
Her teacher, Ms. Clyde, sighed impatiently. "Ms. Morton, if you are texting in my class again, please give me your phone. I'll give it back at the end of the day." She set down her American History book that she read from every day and marched to Heather's desk.
She surrendered her phone, and sank into her chair. Not again, she thought. How long would It keep bugging her? And why was It here in the first place?
After History was over, she scraped by in Geo and escaped the class the second the bell rang. She retrieved her cell and walked to the football field.
She waved to her boyfriend, Troy, on the field. He jogged over to her on the sidelines.
"Hey," he panted, "I heard from Decan that you yelled in class again. Are you okay?" He stared at her, his brown eyes boring into her. She adored Troy's compassion and caring. Most guys fake sympathy for her, becoming annoyed or adjitated if she even opened her mouth, other than to make out with them.
She bit her lip. "Uh... yeah. I mean, it wasn't like last month at the ice rink." She was talking about the incident at the Darren Buxton Ice Arena. Darren Buxton was a famed hockey star from their town, Richmond, a small town, one hundred miles away from Salem. At the arena, she and Troy were scating and the Voice starting nagging her as always, and she fell into a screaming fit on the ice. She only stopped after Troy had called 9-1-1.
"Good." He smiled. "So... once practice is over, how about we catch a late movie? I was really wanting to see Cowboys and Aliens. Hmm?" He gave her a salesman grin, that begged you to accept the deal.
She stared down at her boots. "If it's okay, I just want to go home and sleep."
"Oh, that might be a better idea." He removed his helmet for a moment and raked his fingers through his shaggy blond hair. Heather had fallen for him in tenth grade. She was head-over-heels for his angular features, toned muscles and charm. They'd only been dating for a few months.
Coach Henderson's whistle blew. He jogged onto the field to the group of football players. Coach was a middle-aged, former College football star who taught PE and Health, and of course, coached the football team, as well as the hockey and basketball teams. "Dawson!" He called to Troy.
"Duty calls." He winked and gave her a small goodbye hug and jogged back to his team. Heather sighed and wished that she could take Troy up on his offer. She imagined sinking into the soft leather seat of Troy's car, leaning next to him, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers...
He's stupid... you're ugly... lifeless...
She jogged to her car and slumped into the driver's seat of her Jeep Cherokee. "Stop it, stop it, stop..." She cried. She turned on the radio to drown out the Voice. A soft, sad song came on; an echoy, acoustic song. She listened to it carefully, calming her nerves.
She needed to get home. Heather turned on the ignition and shook off her daze. She drove for only a moment when something stopped her. The lyrics...
...is it the whispering ghost that you fear the most?
Heather's heart crept into her throat. Whispering ghost? She turned off the stereo and drove in silence. Could the Voice be a ghost? Heather didn't remember anyone dying around the time the Voice started tormenting her. Maybe a distant relative that nobody knew about.
This was my inspiration. It's one of my favourite songs from my favourite band. ^_^
Lyrics: O' Sister by City and Colour.
"...what have the demons done?
What have the demons done with the luminous light that once shined from your eyes?
What makes you feel so alone?
Is it the whispering ghost that you fear the most?
But the blackness in your heart won't last forever.
I know it's tearing you apart, but it's a storm you can weather.
O' sister! ..."