Jay's lungs burned from the dusty air, and his eyes teared up from the congestion. The atmosphere suddenly shifted. Jay didn't want to get stuck with that ghost girl forever; he just couldn't. He wouldn't want to be chained to a whining ghost, sharing its unwanted burdens with you and trying to manipulate you into doing things you never wanted to do again. He had always considered this "gift" a curse.
12 years ago:
Young Jay was in the bathroom, hiding from the closet ghost. She couldn't get him if he was far away from her, he thought.
But unfortunately, he was stuck with the bathroom ghost.
"My kid deserved this house, you know! Show some respect!" said the scraggly old man, a wispy essence of who he once was. Jay stayed quiet.
He found the best course of interest was to ignore them.
But to his disdain, the man didn't stop. "You got those phone things these days, don't you? I heard you can speak to people from long distances. You know, back in my day, we didn't have these things; all we had to speak with were letters, and we had to wait years to hear back from them. I remember back when I was in the Great War—" the old ghost continued to talk to him.
It made him queasy. Does he never stop?
He felt a surge of frustration, combined with exhaustion from being followed around all the time. Why do they always follow him around? Why do they feel the need to make him miserable with them?
I just want to be left alone, he thought, as tears burned his cheeks.
"My god, kids these days, so weak! I'm not crying because I'm stuck in this godforsaken bathroom, am I? Kid, let me tell you, to be a man you must be—" and more unsolicited advice.
Little Jay ran frantically from his room, covering his ears.
"GO AWAY!" he ran and embraced his mother with his little hands. His mom was in the kitchen, cutting vegetables.
She turned back and was shocked to see the little Jay panicked and tearful. "Jay, baby, what's wrong?" She lovingly embraced him back.
Jay knew he couldn't tell her about the ghosts. The last time he did, she cried and took him to a psychiatrist, who checked him head to toe and made him do strange hand exercises. Of course he can balance a book on his head; that wasn't the problem!
Ultimately, he was left with a diagnosis of nothing and a label.
'Strange kid.'
"Ghosts aren't real." " she said, which may have sounded reassuring if he did, in fact, see them.
No matter how much he tried to convince her, he couldn't prove it. Ultimately, he realized that he was alone in his predicament, and thus nobody would believe him, let alone help him, not even Mom.
He said nothing and just continued to embrace her. Her presence was the only thing he could get.
That was the day he realized that the only way to get rid of ghosts is to die.
Present:
When he left the ghost girl, he felt a whirl of relief but also anxiety pricking him if he did the right thing. What if she were right, would he have survived?
What was his purpose in coming here anyway? Jay just wanted to enjoy life, at least if not forever, then for a little while, so he could experience this taste of reality without truly dying.
Or he was dead; he didn't know. The more time passes here, the more and more confused he gets.
But now he was afraid of his paradise turning into this purgatory. That ghost seemed too eager and excited, and that meant worse for him.
She would talk him to death if he allowed it. No, he thought. That should never happen.
The things were standing there but didn't seem to follow him, but their faces were turned in the direction he was running this time.
He analyzed the road signs as far as he could see from the window and created a plan of action, despite it being a terrible one. Whatever, he was safe for now; he sighed with relief. He would've either been dead or on his own; either way, freedom, he thought.
Ok, the arrows pointed to each and every point, and he followed them diligently, but what was this? The things seemed to follow him every step of the way. Every time he got further, they seemed to get closer and closer to closing the gap in the direction he was running.
What the fuck? he thought. Are they...following him? He sweated. He sprinted, picking up the pace, but he couldn't see which direction and where he was running.
Oh my god, am I dying? he thought. The street was so dark, except for the very dimly yellowish-white hue that sparked from the streetlights. He was shivering by this point; the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. A little bit more, and I can see lights!
He sprinted towards the straight arrow, but suddenly, there was a roar! split the air in two. He had to stop; it came from the direction he was running. What the frick? What was that? He had no idea, as he didn't know what it was; he didn't know anything about this level or any levels after that.
But he thought it would be fine. Perhaps not.
It seemed that the things were getting closer at the speed of a heartbeat.
Every time the lights flickered, they seemed to move closer to him. He gulped. Ok, they are not afraid of him, but it seemed like they were avoiding the lights.
Shit, he thought, maybe he should've stayed and come up with a better plan then.
He was surrounded, and it didn't look too good for him. "Oh well, it was good while it lasted," he sighed.
Sorry, Mom, he thought as he closed his eyes. The footsteps got closer and closer, and the lights flickered again; they must be close now, as he could hear tiny but chilling scratches.
Are they going to eat him? Tear him limb from limb? Devour him whole? Would he turn into one of them? He didn't understand how he got lost. He followed all their directions, and there was no playground.
He thought about barging into one of the houses, but he was currently in the middle of nowhere, and the houses seemed to be farther from here, and it was a losing battle at this point. Plus, they didn't have any locks; even if he did, it wouldn't matter then.
He shivered; death felt so close, and it was primal terror that took a hold of him. He couldn't breathe, and his heart raced so quickly he could hear it in his ears.
Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him.
"Walk through the tree."