He couldn't sleep. Not a wink. It was normal, he liked it even, at least he didn't have nightmares.
But this was a different kind of sleeplessness. One that stemmed from confusion rather than caffeine overload.
Miles turned to his side before staring at the shutters. Sunlight peeked through, warming the room. It reminded him of the hours that had gone by.
The time wasted. Staring. Listening. Doing absolutely nothing.
For some reason it felt like he was rotting from inside out.
Miles sat up in the bed. As soon as he sat up, his neck glowered as though rust had settled in between his bones. He gritted his teeth. He stretched for a while before he stood up.
Miles walked to the bookshelf before pulling out one of his drawing books. The cover was tattered, its edge frayed, the front peeling. Miles leafed through.
The darkness hung over him. Leering. Teasing as he flipped the pages.
His right eye ached from crying for too long.
Miles rested against the wall, swallowing. He pulled up the hoodie he was wearing and noticed that the bandages for the injuries by his side were already peeling off.
Miles sat up despite the pain radiating from his shoulder. He knew his father was already out cold. He could hear his snores outside.
Probably just outside his bedroom. Caging him. Locking him in so there was no way of escape.
Miles fisted the fabric in his hands. His throat cinched like a belt that pulled too tight. He looked at the door, angered resolution stirring within him.
"I wil-l get out of here. Mark my wor-ds."
His broken words didn't dent the silence. Or the cold swirling in his room. Or the darkness that nestled inside.
Clinging. Whispering lies- that even if he left, he would not be free.
Like he once was.
Never again.
Miles exhaled. Miles closed the book before throwing it across the room. The following thump did nothing to still the trembling.The cold, lingering anxiety that coiled within his belly.
He pounded the wall.One. Two. Three. But each punch only made the heaviness intensify. The memories settled upon him like centuries of dust, weighing down his already sagging shoulders.
His teeth gnashed together.
Miles loved drawing. He once loved it.
Drawing realities where he was normal. Where he was born without his paralysis. Where his mother loved him as much as his father had.
Where he was adored as Bella. And so much more.
Then he destroyed everything. At that time, every drawing spoke of a way out. No longer dreaming of the beauty of life but rather surviving. Making it out.
Escaping.
He rested his head against the bookshelf. Now, drawing was only a reminder of him. His mouth became sour.
Miles pushed himself away and tried to find something to do to escape the sneering thoughts.
Miles tried everything. Books. Even rereading the jottings from the previous cases he'd worked on. It almost felt like another lifetime.
One question popped up in the middle of the ruckus in his mind. Was any of this real?
The ghosts? Revenants?
And where Miles had been wary from the beginning, he suddenly became curious. Was it possible for Seth to show him a ghost? The fact that he could do that... Reliving sequence it should be possible.....
As he ruminated, his thoughts slowly became more divided.
You can't really be considering this.
You've already messed up too much already. Don't make this any worse. You shouldn't trust him!
Is there anything else you can do? You have nothing to lose.
Miles grabbed his phone from the table. He opened it before scrolling down to Seth's contact. His finger hovered over the call button.
What do you think you're doing?
You should be running for the hills- not running towards him!
This is your chance to see if he's actually telling the truth. If he could actually show you a ghost- however crazy that sounds- you'll know all he's saying is true.
Miles clicked on call.
It rang for a few seconds. After the second try, Seth picked. Miles brought the phone to his ear.
"He-"
"Breadsticks! Cassie catch that mouldy parrot before it eats more of my flowers!"
Miles winced. He held the phone away for a few seconds before bringing it back to his ears. Miles swallowed.
"Hello? Miles, is that you?"
Miles cleared his throat. His mouth suddenly went dry. "Yes. It's.... m-e."
"How can I-"
"I want to see a gh-ost."
Possible? Of course it's not. Who are you?
A stretch of silence passed between before Seth spoke again. "Meet me by 3pm sharp.Graystone."
Seth ended the call just after.
***
The gate -a split worn out fence strangled by brambles and creeping vines- stared down at them with barbed spikes. The Graystone sign lay flat on the cracked, sand padded path.
"What made you call me?"
Miles didn't turn to him. He only stared at the sign lying on the floor.
Miles struggled to stand. His body throbbed with pain. His vision swam. Miles tasted blood. He licked his split lip. The sharp jab made him hiss and gnash his teeth.
The Graystone sign hung over him.
He was out. He finally left. He was alive. He was safe. He did it.
His father couldn't hurt him, not anymore.
His body refused to believe the mantras.
Miles blinked.
"You could say I'm cu-rious."
Seth nodded before leading him past the gate and down the stony road. He noticed that the grasses were now overgrown. The older headstones lay in shambles, scattered across the grass in fractured fragments.
Miles stepped over a rock that was cleaved in half. Candle wax licked the jagged surface like tears caught mid descent.
Miles clung to the rock like his life depended on it.
This was the third time he was vomiting. All his bowels ached. He felt completely drained. Like life was dripping by with every single breath.
What if he died here? What if his father found him? What was he going to do now?
Despite his fears, he knew one thing. This was the safest place for him now.
Beside a rock in an old graveyard.
They reached the large tree that was at the centre of the graveyard. The stench of decay sailed through the air. Miles searched through the grave for any sign of life.
Any other living person.
No one was there. Only both of them. There was an emptiness that this place held. One that went deeper than inhabiting the dead. One that could sink through his soul with one whiff of decayed remnants.
A light broke his near pain induced sleep. Miles blinked.
"Are you okay?" A woman asked. He couldn't see her clearly through the blur. He croaked.
She gasped, noticing the gash that still leaked at his side.
"Charles! Get the car! We need to get him to the hospital!"
His world fell to darkness as he felt a hand on his leg.
"Miles?"
Miles jerked up, eyes wide. "What?"
Seth eyed him. "Are you okay, boy?"
Miles nodded slowly. Goosebumps erupted up his skin as though he was drenched on ice water. He shuddered. Miles rubbed his arms slowly.
"Don't zone out too much though. Normies might call you crazy." Seth chuckled.
"Norm-ies?"
"You know normal people. Sane people."
"And... I'm n-ot one of them?"
"Of course not. Any sane person wouldn't be here for the reason you came. They'd have run for the hills."
See I told you so. Even he gets that.
Miles sighed and watched Seth lean against his cane, pushing his hand into the pockets of his khaki shorts. Miles' eyes found the scar stretching down his leg again.
That must have hurt.
Seth pulled out a chain which he handed to Miles. Miles took it and inspected it.
The chain was made of a grey metal he didn't recognize, with some tiny symbols molded into each interlocking oval. And there was a small grey diamond at the centre with silver lines stretching down the sides.
"That's what we call the seeing eye. It allows humans to see the dead."
Seeing eye? He glanced at Seth again. Seth motioned from the chain to Miles' neck. "Wear it."
Miles wore it as instructed. The metal pressed hard into his skin, leaving a bitter sting behind. He coughed. The lump in his throat almost caught as it pressed so hard that he could barely breathe.
Then, as if listening to his struggle, the chain expanded. Now it sat comfortably on his neck as though he wasn't about to choke to death one second ago.
Suddenly, he felt dizzy. His stomach flipped. His legs wobbled. The ground seemed to shift underneath him as he stepped from side to side.
Silver light blossomed in his line of sight. Heat washed over him, prickling his skin with nimble fingers. Miles collapsed to the grass. His ears rung. A ferocious ache drilled into his skull.
Then it all disappeared as soon as it had come. The light. The ringing. The nausea.
Miles raised his head from the grass. His nose scrunched. He wiped the dirt off his face before rising to his feet.
Something was different. It was colder. Brighter. The sun pelting against his skin was significantly hotter. The stench of decay thickened. He could hear the caw of crows and the rustle of leaves as the wind howled by.
It was like all his senses had reached a new peak.
Then something hit him. Like ice, it speared through him, piercing his innards with hostility. His teeth chattered.
Miles turned to find out the cause of the weird sensation and then stopped short.
His heart skipped a beat. There was a man standing behind him, watching him.
No not just any man. A man in a jacket, with long blonde hair and ripped jeans. That was-
Floating?
The man peered at him with thick dark lashes. His body emitted a dim blue glow.
Miles blinked. This couldn't be real. Just couldn't. He closed his eyes again. The darkness engulfed him. But even in its familiarity, he could still feel the evident difference.
The cawing. The icy shards.
Count to three.
One. Two. Three.
Miles still came face to face with the blue eyed demon that now looked half vexed.
It was one thing to imagine. It was another to actually see it. Miles ran a hand through his hair.
"What you doin' staring 't me like some punk? I'll run your face in if you don't quit the glazed look!"
"Hey." Seth stood in front of Miles. "Don't be like that, Mickey. Just calm down."
"I know...." The man or ghost- Miles wasn't sure what to call him- sighed.
"It's just.... can't believe I'm dead, you know? Momma's been coming here. Dropping flowers. Crying. " His voice broke at the end.
"Hey." Seth placed a hand on the ghost's arm. "I'm sorry."
"I just- just wished I'd spent more time with her. I was so lost in my breakup that I forgot about the old hag." He sniffled.
Seth clapped a hand on his shoulder before saying something Miles couldn't quite hear. The ghost- Mickey- swallowed again before gliding away.
Miles watched him go in bewilderment.
"Don't drool too much. Magnificent, isn't it?" Seth smirked.
"No I'm ju-st suprised-"
"Well there's much more of them. " Seth pointed at the gate and then Miles noticed the number of hovering bodies scattered across the graveyard. Most of them were conversing in groups. Some wandered aimlessly, their expressions bordering between sorrow and boredom.
Miles would have almost mistaken them for humans if not for the faint blue radiance that surrounded them.
And the fact that they can float.
"They're nothing like the blobs that the media portrays to be. Or the mindless zombies that phase through walls. They're still humans. Flesh -maybe not blood- but still flesh. With a mind. Emotions. Regrets."
A few of the ghosts floated past them. They looked curiously at Miles before waving at Seth.
Now this is crazy. There was no way he could fabricate this. There's absolutely no way.
"Do they kn-ow I can see th-em?"
"Yeah. The look on your face is too hard to miss."
Miles whistled before pushing his hands into his pocket.
"But ho-w is this even poss-ible?"
"It's the necklace." Seth pointed at the chain around Miles' neck. "It's made of umbracite. An ancient metal discovered on the night of the Ash moon. To the average eye, it may look like plain rock or scraps. But they embody the pale resonance- what gives us our powers. As such they're used for so many things. Weapons. Lockglyphs. "
Miles swallowed all of what Seth was saying in. Umbracite. He stared up at the sky. The sun looked more beautiful than it ever had.
The rays of light spilled down on the leaves, forming freckles along the barks. His chest felt light. Lighter than it had been for a while.
"Wh-at's it like to have this pow-er? To see ghosts? Conv-erse with ghosts?"
Seth settled down on the grass, placing his cane right beside him. Again Miles' eyes were drawn to the scar but he refused to ask.
Miles sat right next to him. Seth brushed a hand through his hair. Even now, the greying patches in his dark hair became more clear to him. The visible weights that hung underneath his eye.
Under the jokes and weird comments, he looked..... tired.
"It's good that I'm able to help people. Maybe not like you officers do but in my own niche, my own little way. But sometimes..... I wished things could go back to the way they were. Back before....."
"All the pow-er?"
Seth eyed bore through Miles'. For once, Miles understood. And he was sure Seth did too. Maybe not entirely but he could still see a human in there. Wishing. Regretting. Living despite the power that was forced upon him. The rules that he may have been obliged to abide by.
"And I know you've been wondering about how I got this scar. As I said, you're quite obvious. To think you're a detective. If I were a criminal, I'd be able to read you like a book."
"Really?" Miles shook his head with a small smile.
"Anyway. It..... happened in an accident." Seth fell silent. He stared off into the distance for a few seconds.
Miles reached out and gave him a comforting squeeze. "Sorry about th-at."
"It's alright."
"But there's something else. Kno-wing all of this ab-out the.... dead. Why don't you tell the media? Let th-em know how they're portr-aying them all in the wrong way. Or are you sw-orn to sec-recy."
Seth shook his head, amused. "No. But it is for the best. Humans have a knack for destroying the balance of things. Taking things too far. Besides, we, ghostreaders would become an endangered species within weeks."
"Lab rats?"
"Exactly! Lab rats. Besides, I already have a reputation as the strange man in the library. A girl cried when she saw me last week. Said my knees looked too wobbly. And body's too thin. Don't blame her though. I'd be crying too if I were her."
"Same thing happ-ened to me. My sister's friend ask-ed me why my face was broken. Told m-e to get out of the room that only normal pe-ople should be allowed to come to sch-ool."
Miles didn't even know why he said this. But he felt at peace as soon as it left his lips.
"Don't know what parents teach kids these days. Besides, normal is boring. I'd rather hang out with a ghost than people."
"Why a-m I not surp-rised?"
Seth punched him in the shoulder. Miles shrugged it off with a chuckle. "Look at us. Outcasts. Laughing without a care in the world. If the world can't take the heat then they better get out of our way!"
Miles chuckled again. He felt the worries melt away as he watched the ghosts that floated about. He almost felt like he was caught in time.
He exhaled. The air, though heavy with disgusting odors, held a hint of freedom he had never truly come to terms with. One that a perfumed room of the elite in their rich and glory could never give him.
A freedom that came with someone that understood. Maybe not everything. But they still shared. Cared. Related.
"Miles?"
His shoulders tensed. The tendons in his neck went taut. The bitter taste intensified as the aroma of burnt oranges filed from a memory.
"You better look at me when I'm talking to you, you rat!"
Miles froze. His breathing picked up. The fog swallowed him. Straining him. Twisting around his vocal cords. For a moment, he lost his voice.
"Miles. Please. "
This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.
Breathe. 1. 2. 3.
His stomach knotted. Flashes of blood danced in his vision. Whips. Screams. Whimpers.
Despite himself, he turned. To see that it wasn't real. To assure himself that his worst nightmare hadn't come to life.
But there he was, in a singlet and a pair of shorts. He looked exactly the way he looked in the Reliving.
Same dark eyes. Same tousled hair. Same lean muscular frame.
His father spat in his face. Miles shivered. Spittle dropped to the floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Veins bulged underneath his father's skin. His father gritted his teeth and his jaw popped.
For a moment, he almost looked like a rabid dog.
"I-" his father's voice broke. The silence stretched for what felt like eternity. Miles scrunched his hands into a fist to fake strength. That his father didn't have any effect on him. That he was stronger.
Run!
What are you doing here?
Don't show him that you're weak!
But you are. Pathetic then. Still pathetic now.
His heart thundered louder as every single nightmare came rushing back so fast that he was almost blindsided.The flashing eyes. His cruel smile.
Miles struggled to even his breathing.
"I'm sorry, Miles. For everything."
For a moment, he almost shrunk away. Almost flinched. But, heat rose from his pit. A fierce heat. One that took him by surprise.
His taut vocal cords loosened. Right then and there, he found his voice again.
"Sorry?"
"Yes, Miles. I don't deserve your forgiveness. I should have been there for you, son. I should have loved you. Cared for you. But I let my emotions control me. What i did to you. What i did to that boy. I regret it. Every. Single. Day."
His ears became hot. He could almost feel the steam that popped out of his ears. The thunder of his veins beneath his skin.
"The divorce has been hard on Miles but I've been working through it with him." Miles heard his father say from where he converted outside the car with a woman.
"It's so beautiful to see the love of a good father in action. I'm sure Miles must thank you every single day."
Miles hissed.
"Sor-ry? Do you th-ink your apol-ogy would ta-ke back any of the th-ings you did to me?"
"I being stupid. I was just so caught up in my emotions-"
"I was hu-man too!" Miles snapped.
His father's eyes widened. He looked surprised.
"But-"
Miles felt like vomiting. Felt like strangling his father with his own bare hands. So he did the only thing he could think of.
Miles ran. Faster than he'd ever run. Away from the physical incarnation of his past. Away from the voice of reason. Away from the depressing thoughts that threatened to end his life.
Miles didn't stop until he reached the car. Miles slid into the car before slamming the door shut.
He ripped the chain off his neck then chucked it into the cup holder.
He turned the key in the ignition.
Then drove off.
***
"Miles. Are you okay?" Bella followed him as soon as he entered. He pushed her aside, ignoring her.
"Miles! I'm serious. You weren't picking your calls and I was worried sick-"
"Get out of my fa-ce!"
His vision swam. His legs felt like lead. He steadied himself against the counter. His head pounded harder than it ever had. Bile caked his tongue.
Get yourself together.
You're acting just like father.
The thought almost sent him hurling to the floor. Hissing, he forced his trembling fingers into a fist.
Never. I will be calm.
Coffee. That was what he needed. Coffee.
Miles dragged his unresponsive body to the coffee pot below the cupboards. The large jug of coffee that he usually kept aside stood right beside it. Filled to the brim.
Without thinking, he lifted it to his lips before he chugged it down. He didn't stop. Even though Bella told him to. Even though his heart burned. Or the jittiriness increased.
He didn't stop until he swallowed down every last drop. Miles threw the jug away. The splintering of glass against wood echoed but it barely phased him.
He teetered.
"Miles!"
He suddenly regretted his actions.
His throat burnt hotter than before. His stomach twisted with an acidic unease. It scraped his stomach wall -one flake after the other. He heard Bella say something again but he couldn't analyze amidst the cloud that spun around him.
His thoughts flew faster. Quicker than he could catch. His vision began to fray, the edges dismantling.
Miles stumbled against something hard. He hissed but even that got lost in the daze.
Miles crashed onto the floor. His body trembled. Seizing nonstop as though each muscle has forgotten how to stop.
"Mil-"
And then the only darkness swallowed him whole.
Mind. Body. Soul.