Welcome Your Guest

Blood and shards of glass litter the floor around me. My fists still hung in the air where my mirror once stood, something I used to take pride in. Now, I have to throw away every piece of it as well.

 When did everything start? How did it get this far?

“You know that won’t get rid of me. I’m your guest.” Even now, I can see the smirk on that damn reflection.

“Like hell you are. You’ve been ruining my life!” I stomp my foot down, piercing skin onto the miniature blades. The bastard only clicks his tongue.

“Don’t you know that breaking a mirror is bad luck? How many years of bad luck was it again, seven?” Grabbing the piece embedded into my foot, I glare at the dark shadow in a warning. Only then does the misfortune materialize out of his cloak.

“The bad luck here is you,” I interjected. “If only the mirror would get rid of you,” I grumble while throwing away the pieces into a plastic bin.

Each reflection showed the ghost, a smug distorting his face. “Maybe if you were smarter or more diligent, you could.” Pretending to be bored of it all, he flickers in and out. “Don’t you remember the day that we met?”

 I stop throwing the pieces away, staring back at the disjointed mess in the bin. It was a month ago that I knew for sure. But that was back when I got crushed by a window-cleaning platform and heard his voice for the first time. Back when I used to believe ghosts weren’t real.

How could I have been so foolish back then, believing it was gravity or just being unlucky? All of my favorite books and trinkets breaking, getting into so many more accidents, even the strange figures I saw before going to sleep I thought was just karma finally biting me back. Hell, not even the near-death accident didn’t raise suspicion until that damn ghost laughed in my face.

I’m an idiot.

“It doesn’t even matter,” I sigh. It probably has been longer than a month that I even found out. Time is lost, just like my sanity.

“Oh, how that breaks my heart. It was a joyous day for me, you know.” He flickers into existence, barely human and vaguely familiar. While his features fall off his face, nothing stops how I can feel him from taunting me with every word. He smiles, far too sickly sweet.

“Your dear friend, what was her name again? Annabeth?” He asked curiously, fading. Sweating and goosebumps frazzle my skin, forcing my eyes to dart towards my shadow. 

He is there. Maybe there’s a resemblance to a bull within me; that’s the only explanation why all I can see is red right now. 

“What did you do to her?” My hands are already around the shadow’s throat, wrapping around nothing so tightly. There is blood.

Yet all he does is smile again. It cuts through the shadow impossibly, ruining any sense of reason. “I’ve done nothing but be her guest.” The toothy smile brings to mind a Cheshire cat. “But she saw you fitting enough of a host and handed me over to you. A shame, for she was the best host I’ve had thus far.” 

He—what?

“Wait, are you telling me Annabeth cursed me?” Stuttering, my hands retract as my mind whirls. No, that’s impossible. It has to be. “Why are you lying to me? She’s my best friend!”

“Do you genuinely see me as a curse? So many people loved my company. I’m quite popular, I’ll have you know.” He shrugs, ignoring everything else I said.

Pinning down the shadow, my rage flares. “Do you think I’m a complete moron?! Why would Annabeth ever curse me?” Something clicks. I lean forward in disdain. “Do you think I would be stupid enough to curse my best friend?”

“If you were to ask for my unfiltered opinions, I’d think you were the moron.” Laughing as I hold him down tighter, he somehow leans in. I have to back away. “She was smart. It was so easy to ‘curse’ you, wasn’t it?”

This must be some ploy to curse my best friend. But why? Why would this ghost have anything against Annabeth? She’s so kind, overworking herself to the bone, but was still so willing to help fix my hair for another friend’s wedding. Despite looking so sick, she was there for me.

“So what’s your plan? You saw Annabeth months ago and decided that she’s your new victim? I won’t let you hurt her at all!” I shouted at the figure on the ground.

He laughs.

Right in my face. It’s like what I say is all a joke to him. In the end, isn’t that what it is to him? Just a haunting figure from the depths of hell to torture me specifically?

“You’re sorely mistaken if you think you caught my eye. Although, I must agree that you’ve caught my interest when you tried rationalizing everything I did that the world must have done.” He slithers away from my grasp, untangible from the beginning. “You are very good at lying to yourself,” He whispers with a knowing smile.

As if believing in ghosts without evidence is any better.

“How did you find me then? If you really wanted Annabeth, then why did you come for me?” I ask. Pain sparks through my hands and I look down, finally noticing they’re bleeding. I didn’t even catch the shadow like I thought I did. Of course, I couldn’t. Nothing that terror makes sense, not even his logic.

“As I’ve stated before, Annabeth didn’t want a guest like me before. A pity, really. She was so petrified of every little thing I did, and she couldn’t do a single thing about it.” He drops his head down, as if reminicising about the good ol’ days. “Almost like you, but funnier,” he teases.

Is he serious? How would I know if he’s lying or not? No, would a ghost even need to lie if they’re free from everything?

What if he’s not lying?

Taking a gulp of air, I try swallow down the lump in my throat. “Fine, let’s say that I do believe you. How did Annabeth curse me?” If he’s not lying, then he would still say the same as before. He just needs to repeat his story.

“It was a joyous day; a wedding day if I remember correctly,” he proclaims. That very same wedding? He’s been haunting me for half a year and I only knew a couple months ago? There really was no hope for me. “Back then, she bewitched you with compliments and kind gestures.” Turning over to the shattered pieces long forgotten, his form growing larger in the small reflection. 

“Then she asked your reflection a simple question.” The thought of a smile lingers.

“What—what question?” My voice wavers as my mind scrambles. I can’t remember for the life of me what the conversation was about. It must have mostly been about the wedding and the fact I asked for help last second. What words could have cursed me?

My blood thrums far too long. I almost choke on the tension. “What was it?!”

By now, he spreads through the parts I didn’t throw away. Black envelops it all like a sinister fog. The smile grows sickly sweet.

“Surely you know best, right?” He wonders.

He knows.