Roommates -- Part Five

Possible ways to get rid of stupid fucking ghosts that keep me up all damn night:

1. Ignore them. This strategy has worked well in the past. Unfortunately, doesn't seem to work once you acknowledge the ghost, which I was stupid enough to do. Great work, Cass.

2. Throw pillows. Very effective at 3am when I need my sleep. Ghost will disappear for a good few hours. I don't know how long this will work for. She may get used to it.

3. Exorcism. I'm not going to let Gil try that, though, and I'm not telling a Priest about this. I imagine they'd try to exorcise me, or something.

4. Journal entries? How is this supposed to be effective? No idea. Gilhen's idea, though. He insists I try it for a month.

5. Do what the ghost wants. Which makes me feel like I'm giving in to a spoiled child. If I could even figure out what she wants. She doesn't follow me outside the house, so it isn't going to church and I don't care what Gilhen says.

6. Garlic. Wooden Stakes. Silver Bullets. Crucifixes. Holy Water.

7. Move somewhere else.

The cursor blinked. Cassie stared at the screen. Option 7 was a very tempting alternative, which made her angry. Not only didn't she want to move somewhere else, there was no conceivable explanation for moving from a practically rent-free apartment to, oh, anywhere else. Her parents would think she was crazy.

Which, after all, wouldn't be far from the truth, now would it?

She sighed and placed her hands over the keyboard again.

So Gilhen wants me to start a journal where I record where and when I see the ghost and how it makes me feel. I'm too lazy to write it out longhand, so here it is.

I see the ghost too much.
It makes me feel insane.

She paused and grinned at the screen. She imagined herself showing the paragraph to Gilhen, as the only entry she ever made in the journal. It summed things up pretty nicely, she thought.

Okay. I'm obviously not in the mood for this.

She got up and stalked into the kitchen, making her strides as long as possible in order to stretch her legs. She looked around, thinking, frowning at the empty sink.

Her hands pulled her hair back into a ponytail, twisted it, pulled it up into a bun, then let it fall. She bit her lip and stared at the sink. Her hands worked again, pulling the hair back, twisting it up, letting it go.

No, I did the dishes already.

She opened the cupboards and stared.

I'm not even hungry. Why am I in here?

She poured a glass of water and wandered back into the living room.

After nearly a week of not-very-good sleep, everything was starting to wear on Cassie. She'd snapped at Gilhen several times over stupid things and couldn't bring herself to call and apologize.

Graham had knocked on her door yesterday and asked her how things were going. She'd made most inane kind of responses and stared stupidly at him as he tried to engage her in friendly chatter. He'd finally said he had to be going and left, looking rather confused. She'd gone upstairs and cried helplessly for a good long time.

And then her mother had called and asked mothering questions and it had ended in a fight. Cassie hated fighting with her mother. She was the one in the wrong far, far too often.

She sat down on the couch and leaned back. It was still early in the evening, and she had some reading she wanted to get done, and she really should to the journalling. Still, she felt like she could fall asleep right here without half-trying. She closed her eyes.

"I can't think that these visions are good."

"You know, I don't think that they're very good either. For me, I mean." Cassie mumbled as she worked herself into a more comfortable position on the sofa. "You've been keeping me up all night. You should sleep. That might help both of us."

"The doctor thinks they may be a result of me hitting my head. He thinks that I still am sick, and need rest."

"Yeah, that's what they told me, too. But here you are, and I feel fine." Cassie opened her eyes and looked blearily at the woman across from her.

Her clothing was old. Cassie would put it at probably the late 1800s sometime, but it was really hard to tell since she didn't know much about clothes. It certainly wasn't anything from the 1920s onward. Before that she couldn't really say.

How old is this house, anyway? It's not as old as her, is it? Why is she here?

She was a young woman, probably meaning she'd died young, though Cassie wasn't entirely sure if that were true or not. Nanna Curran had looked her age when she'd died. She hadn't really asked anyone else how old they were when they died. It seemed rude, somehow.

I don't care how old they are, really, as long as they go away.

"I sort of wish you'd stop bothering me, you know. If you could manage it. I can't help you."

"I long for release from this."

"That makes two of us," Cassie said. "I wish I knew how to help you. Then you'd go away. I don't suppose you could just do that without me doing anything?"

Of course, it'll never be that easy.
Damn but this couch is comfy. Ratty, ugly, sort of smelly, but comfy.
I should bring a blanket out here.
But then I'd have to get up.

"I went to confession today. I've seen nothing since, though sometimes these visions will come days apart."

"Are you saying you don't see me now?" Cassie frowned. "But you're standing right here talking to me."

And I'm talking to her. Oh God. What have I done?

She sat up, suddenly awake. But the ghost had disappeared.

***

She was talking to me. We practically had a conversation and I was too damn tired to realize what was happening.

It lasted about five minutes, I guess. No, it was shorter than that. I can't tell.
What did I learn from her? She said some of the same stuff. Mostly the same stuff. I don't think she said anything new. She hit her head, she thinks she's crazy, she wants to be released. She didn't say anything about how. How do I do it? She didn't answer when I asked.

I guess she wants me to figure it out. Maybe she doesn't know.

I've just realized that I don't know anything about her. I don't know her name. I don't know what time she's from. I don't know how she lived or died.

Oh, there was one new thing she said. She said she went to confession and wasn't seeing ghosts. Which is weird, because I thought she was talking to me. I don't know what it means. Maybe it was one of those things that make no sense that she says.

If I can get her to stick around for long enough next time, I can find out more about her and then find out how to get rid of her.

I can't believe I just typed that.

I'm going to bed. Goodnight.

***

It wasn't until she woke up the next morning that Cassie realized that no one had bothered her at all the night before. The clock on her bedside table told her she'd slept for longer than she would have expected, especially after going to bed early. She felt well-rested, though, which was a welcome change.

Is this all I had to do? Have one conversation with her and she disappears?
Maybe I was just too tired to hear her last night.

She made coffee and lingered over a book before getting showered. It was bright and sunny and there was a nice breeze coming in through the windows. There was no reason to rush in getting things done today.

It didn't occur to her what she was feeling until she was standing over her computer and a mountain of academic books and notes she didn't want to touch, but thought she really should.

It's like it's the weekend.
No, it's like I'm on vacation.

The house felt...empty. She felt...relaxed. She wondered how much of the past few days' stress had been caused by not sleeping, or if she was more relaxed because she was really alone in the apartment.

She decided it didn't matter and went put on her sneakers. Today was a good day for a walk.

She wandered for a while, then noticed that she was headed in the general direction of the university campus. Today was as good a day as any to explore it, anyway. Graham's promised tour hadn't happened yet, and might not, after the way she'd treated him. She hunched her shoulders guiltily.

Maybe I can go to him and apologize. Say I've been really tired and stressed and I didn't mean to be such a space cadet.
It wouldn't be a lie.
He probably won't buy it. Or he won't be home when I go, and then I'll have to leave a message with his roommates
And I can't imagine what they're going to tell him, or what they'd say to him about the girl from upstairs being there....
Okay, I promised myself I wouldn't think about this.
Look! A really pretty tree!

The campus was beautiful. There little parks all over the place and staircases in unexpected places. The older stone buildings lent a very classic look to the place. It made her feel almost like she was at a campus in England. Some of the newer buildings were ugly, though. They really spoiled the effect. Cassie resisted an urge to stick her tongue out at them.

To her eyes the campus looked well-populated, despite the fact that classes hadn't started yet, but her senses told her that at least some of the students she saw wouldn't be visible to anyone else.

There's something I'll have to get used to.
I hope I don't give myself away by talking to a fellow student who isn't really there.
Or asking one for an answer in one of my classes. God. That would be worse.

She poked around a few side streets, where old houses like the one she lived in had been converted into office and classroom space. It was kind of charming, having smaller departments in their own separate buildings.

She walked downtown after that, stopping in any store that looked interesting. She stopped briefly outside the used CD store where Gilhen worked and considered going in. But she didn't know if he'd be working, and she was enjoying being by herself, so she kept walking.

It was late afternoon by the time she arrived home. She was pleasantly tired from walking up and downhill all day. She'd also had time to do a lot of thinking as she wandered. That was something she hadn't been doing in a while. At least, she hadn't been thinking clearly.

She made supper and turned on the television. There wasn't much on, just the news, but it gave her something to look at and concentrate on while she ate.

It wasn't long before she felt the buzz of another presence, behind her and to her left.

"We had shepherd's pie for supper tonight. I let Rhonda mash the potatoes. She was very excited to do it."

"Yeah. Well, I've been waiting for you. Sit down, if you can. We're going to talk."

***

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