The Spook_
My brother didn‘t have to kill me. The house was in his name, so was most of the wealth. Done moments before my father passed away.
I‘m standing, or rather floating near their bedroom window. Will and Gloria are sleeping. They look tired and disturbed though. But if he didn‘t do it then whom am I supposed to “take revenge“ on? Myself?
My life in this mansion was an utterly bogus lie. I had everything I asked for. Pretty clothes, total freedom to do and act as I please, whatever food I asked for, anything I wanted. Things. I had every THING.
I was depressed though. Most of the time. Trapped in a nutshell so beautiful yet grey, one of my favourite lines. I knew I was loved, I just never saw it except how they measured it out to me in things. I knew my brother cared for me, he just never wanted to give me any identity or individuality or a space in that house to call my own. I knew my parents loved us equally, I just always got pushed to the sidelines because my brother had more valid needs. Like a system of a whole floor to him and a bed and two big suitcases full of clothes to me. Oh, and a bag of knicknacks and other odd things.
After all, as the girl, I should move away to the place of whomever I marry. But I never wanted to marry. I never ever actually said yes when Ash asked me... though that was probably because it would have become a marriage of convenience. A legal document signed just to make the accidental pregnancy legitimate.
Which I still don‘t understand how it could ever have happened. I mean, I was on the pill and everything. One of those accidental situations I guess. Ash was never someone to play around with his words. He is feeling guilty because of the child. I bet that‘s why he was that sad. Oh, he loved me but enough to always make clear that he is not interested in marriage. Of course. I agreed.
Too dumb from too much love to the man I gave my virginity too. How silly and naïve. But, it was great sex. Oh yes. He knew how to please and be pleased. No issues there. Would he have tried to kill me to avoid marriage...?
Nope. He can‘t act all this time. I‘m in his room now. Used to be our room. He is lying on the bed, staring at the constellation of glow-in-the-dark stars I put up on the ceiling. Tears are slipping down the sides of his face.
Where is all the emotion I had before? I wanted to somehow find a way to soothe him even while being my ghostly self. Now there is just a weird feeling of... detachment? It‘s more like I have memories of loving him now than actually loving him. How strange.
Why exactly am I back now? I simply don‘t understand. I have no desire to take revenge. Then?
