Torment

I could identify the demon consciously, even as it dwelled inside my dream. Though it wasn’t an actual, soul-sucking demon, it was real in my mind.

It was the thing that reminded me over and over again of my sister’s absence. The same one pinning my body in place as I desperately fought to move in the vast stretch of darkness, calling out Robyn’s name.

It cackled as it tortured me, clawing my skin with nails of burning ice, reciting how it would never let me see her again.

I still felt the fire of its touch as I tore awake from the nightmare with a scream dying inside my throat. I panted for breath, the covers sticking to my hot skin as I struggled to kick myself free.

“Come on!” I grimaced, watching the covers finally slip off the bed and drop with a soft rustle to the floor.

Rita chose that exact moment to appear beside my bed. I groaned, falling back into bed. “Go away, please.”

“You didn’t get the brooch,” she complained. “I need it buried by my side otherwise I can’t move on.”

“You should have thought about that before you died,” I chided. “Maybe told someone you wanted to be buried with it. I wasn’t even there. It wasn’t my responsibility, and sure as hell isn’t my problem. I tried to help you out of pure courtesy.” I didn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. I only bothered getting it so she’d move on and I could live in peace. That plan failed. “I’m a teenage girl. I should be having fun instead of dealing with dead, old people’s problems.”

“Well, excuuuse me, poor teenage little girl,” Rita’s lips turned down. “Let’s hope your petty life doens’t get cut short and you’re stuck like the rest of us. Besides that, you’ve been given a gift to see beyond the veil. You’re meant to help us. Believe me, you’re going to be trapped in the afterlife if you don’t do what you’re supposed to.”

“So, what you’re saying is your life revolved around a stupid brooch and henceforth you are trapped because of it?”

“That, girl, is not some stupid brooch,” she fumed. “It’s a family heirloom my dearest, greatest, grandmother left me.”

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and pushed myself up into a sitting position. “I can confidently say that I won’t linger this earth in turmoil over how many ghosts I didn’t help because of their attachment to earthly things.”

With that, I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and got up.

“That’s it? You’re not going to help me get it back?”

“I can’t even if I decided I wanted to—which I can promise you won’t happen, since the police has it in their custody.”

Rita crossed her arms. “Then find a way to get it.”

“Rita, your ex husband is dead,” I quipped. “Yeah. Got acquainted with him briefly at the police station, too. Maybe you could badger him why he didn’t bury you with the brooch?”

Rita’s eyes stretched wide. “The bastard is dead?”

“Ding ding,” I exclaimed. “Correct. And he seemed way to happy to be dead.” It was a lie, but I needed an incentive to encourage her to go after him instead. “You don’t want that, do you?”

“Gmpfh,” she snorted. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why are we even still talking?” I offered her a sweet smile.

Rita held a finger up. “I’m going to make his afterlife existence a living hell.”

“Go get him, you badass lady ghost!” I encouraged.

She nodded firmly like a woman on a mission and vanished, leaving a gust of cold air in her wake. For once the cool breeze was welcoming, and I sighed of relief, stretching my arms over my head.

“That worked out better than I thought.” I hummed to myself, refusing to allow my mind to drift to how loud the sudden silence in the room was. It pressed down on me like a heavyweight on my back, while I dragged myself across the room to get dressed.

Robyn was the talkative twin. She could ramble non-stop of nonsequential things, from shopping to books, or something idiotic our stepfather was up to.

Darn it, I missed her so much.

I heaved in a shaky breath, telling myself whatever I’d do today, one of them won’t include crying. You’d think after weeks of ripping my soul apart and gushing tears I’d be done by now. But no. A fat, hot tear slipped from my eye and rolled down my cheek. I angrily slapped it away and snatched up my makeup bag.

I’ve never bothered with doing my face up, but it seemed to encourage me from crying. Who wanted to stare at a raccoon on crack all day, anyway?

Today was a day best suited for that dramatic black eye look and a quick dab of cherry gloss on my lips. Since my mouth didn’t expel as much moisture as my eyes, it didn’t require any heavy-duty effort.

I let my stick-straight auburn hair fall freely around my face before I dragged the cap of my hoodie over my head. “Mom’s going to have a fit,” I forced a smile. “Perfect.”