November 4th, 2014
I stood in the hallway of my new home while Mom brought boxes in with the movers. My box was in my arms and my name was written in neat letters across the top. The divorce of my parents sent me and Mom to Rosemill from Seattle and Dad to California with my little sister.
The new house was big, way too big it seemed for Mom's salary. But she claimed it came cheaper for a reason the old owners wouldn't say.
The house had two floors, three bedrooms, and a attic and basement.
"Come on Becca, get out the way. We need to get to the other rooms." Mom groaned.
I forced my feet to move up the stairs down to the second door in the hall to my room. With my free hand I turned the golden door knob. With a creak that sounded like it hadn't been opened in months or maybe even years the door opened slowly.
The walls of my new room were a perfect shade of white that matched the white bed set on my overly large bed.
"Leave it to Mom to pick the dustiest house in the universe...." I sighed setting the box on the bed and getting out my clothes to hang up.
My new closest was big, like the rest of the house. Even my room looked like the Queen Elizabeth's throne room. Whatever caused the owners to give it up for so cheap must've been really bad, especially since they sold it furnished.
When I finished hanging up my clothes I still had a lot of space left that I decided I would leave for future stuff in case I needed it. I began putting my pajamas and stuff in the drawers in the dresser that was provided with the house.
Finally, everything was put up. Memories from long ago hung around the walls (including the picture from junior prom), my stuffed animals were gathered in a corner and my band posters hung by my pictures. My shoes were in their hamper, my toiletries in my bathroom, my jewelry in my jewelry box, and everything was were it needed to be.
It seemed perfect, too prefect really. Mom was able to get over Dad and Lauren's leaving and managed to by a semi-mansion on a hill with no neighbors in a small town in the state she grew up in. I had a gut feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong, that I was going to once again be surrounded by ghosts again like I was when I was five.
When I was five I discovered that I wasn't like everybody else. I could see, touch and communicate with ghosts - something that only Nana Wendy could do. Mom knew about mediums, people who could see ghosts, and soon knew about me being one. Somehow I learned to control it but sometimes I couldn't. Every once in a while a ghost would pop up in a place with bad history and ask me to help them. We never knew why it was me that was a medium. This house had a bad vibe.
I walked downstairs to Mom where she was finishing the last touches on the family room. I noticed there were no pictures of Dad, just Phoebe and the two of us - a sign that Mom didn't want him mentioned.
Today she had her hair in a messy style and wore simple jeans and sneakers with a purple sweater. Perfect for Washington's cold and rainy weather. The floor creaked under my weight and I mentally cursed because you would probably be able to hear it all the way in China.
Mom turned around, "Hey Beck." She said.
"Hey." I replied.
"Could you walk to town and go get some groceries?" She handed me her wallet.
"Um yeah sure, i'll get some Sonic for dinner too."
"Great!" Mom smiled.
"You chose the most dustiest house in the planet." I sighed and walked out of the house as Mom laughed.
By the time I got to the official town of Rosemill, my muscles were aching in all sorts of places. I didn't know anyone which was strange because in Seattle I felt that I knew everyone. People stared at me as if I had a big red dot on my forehead, and I was positive I didn't.
I walked into the grocery store and heard a final whisper of the citizens of Rosemill.
"It's the girl who moved into the Malik house...."
The bad vibe came again, I felt like the whole town had a bad vibe. Every corner I turned I felt something bad was going to happen.
I shopped around grabbing stuff that I knew we would need. Tomorrow would be the day that I registered into Rosemill High School, and Thursday would be the day that I started.
My basket was full of bread, chips, and other things I knew Mom wouldn't kill me for getting. All throughout the trip I found myself thinking what the guy meant. He said it as if it were some sort of sin.
I checked out, grateful for the large bags the store provided so I wouldn't have much to carry. While I walked past shops with windows my reflection was following me. Light curly brown hair, dark brown eyes and white skin - like any other person you would find in Washington.
I was glad to be in a new town, sad but glad. Here people didn't know about Dad leaving us for his mistress and taking Lauren with him. Here nobody knew about the accident that claimed my brother's life when we were four. Here I was normal to everyone.
I quickly remembered I wasn't normal to them because I lived in the 'Malik house'. I recalled something about Mom saying that the owners were named Trisha and Yaser Malik and about forty years old and a daughter about Lauren's age named Safaa.
When I returned to the house I put the stuff up in the cabinets and went around looking for Mom.
"Mom?" I yelled. No answer.
I looked all over the first floor.
"Mom?" I yelled again. Still no answer.
I checked the second floor.
"Mom?" No answer.
I checked the attic.
Cold air surrounded me, cold air that felt like the arctic tundra. When I breathed I could see my breath and it stung my lungs. A shiver ran through me and I wanted to leave so I could continue looking for mom but something held me in the attic.
I walked around, hugging myself trying to keep warm. Halfway across the attic my foot hit something and it flew across the room.
A solid looking figure was suddenly there where the thing had landed, and it picked the object up. My breathing stopped and the figure looked up.
He had features that would made him look like a girl if dressed in the right way, but he was obviously a boy. He wore a dark blue sweater and black skinny jeans with converse. He was stunning and beautiful with light caramel eyes, creamy skin, and dark hair with facial hair.
He was dead.