Ever since I was really little, I saw ghosts in our house. I knew they were ghosts because I would talk to them for a little while, and whenever I went out of the room and came back, they were gone.
I told Mom about them. She always said they weren’t real, and that it was just my imagination. I believed her. After that, whenever I saw a ghost I would tell myself it was in my head, close my eyes, and go under my covers or leave the room.
I haven’t talked to a ghost since I was four. I’ve been seeing them less, too. Maybe it’s because I’m getting more grown up. But there is one ghost I saw recently that kind of stuck out. It’s a tall man with a beard. He has a lot of blood on him, too, and his shirt is ripped up. That’s part of the reason why he stuck out. The other reason is that he doesn’t go away.
I call him Frankie. He talks to me sometimes, but I don’t respond. I haven’t told Mom about him yet. It’s been a while since I talked about ghosts with her, so I want to wait a little longer. He’s the only ghost I’ve seen that doesn’t disappear when I leave the room. I don’t mind it too much. Sometimes I pretend he’s my dad, because I don’t have one. Mom said I used to have a dad, but he was a bad guy and that’s why it’s only us now.
Frankie usually talks about how he wants to apologize. I don’t know what he’s apologizing for, but he’s always saying it. “I’m sorry, I need to apologize, please.” He usually repeats it a lot. Sometimes I want to talk to him and ask what he’s saying sorry for, but I remember what Mom told me. It’s just my imagination.
I actually know I’m not imagining Frankie, because he says some words I don’t know. I don’t try to argue with Mom about it, though. It’s just my secret. Ghosts are real, and she doesn’t believe in them.
Sometimes Frankie keeps me up with all his talking and whispering. I have to cover my ears to fall asleep. One night he keeps on saying sorry, sorry, sorry, and I finally decide I’ll say something to him. Just one or two things that might help him, and not anything else.
“You know, saying sorry so much won’t change anything. I think whatever you did was probably a long time ago, and it’s okay now.”
Frankie seems to be surprised that I spoke to him. He quickly turns his head towards me, and his eyebrows are raised. He stands up and moves next to my bed.
“You finally talked to me,” he says.
I nod. “Mom says you’re not real, but I know you are. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
He looks really sad after I say that, and lets out a big sigh.
“Yeah, I know. Thanks for seeing me.” He smiles a little. I smile back.
“You’re welcome. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”
I wave and walk towards my bedroom door. When I open it, Mom is standing on the other side, with her hands on her hips. She grabs me by the arm and shuts the door behind me, leading me into the living room where we both sit on the couch.
“Who were you talking to?!” She sounds mad. I know if I lie, she’ll be even more mad, so I tell her the truth.
“A ghost. Sorry. I know you told me not to.”
“What did it look like this time?” Her arms are crossed now.
“It was a tall guy with red hair, like me, and he had blood on his shirt, and-”
She puts a finger over my lips. Her face goes from angry to upset. She stays there for a moment, and I pull away, scooting back on the couch.
“Did he have brown eyes? Almost black?” Her voice is shaking. I nod. She looks scared now. “Don’t talk to him ever again,” she says sternly.
“Why?” I ask, but she’s already standing up and running into her room. I follow her, but she slams the door behind her. I put my ear up against it. She’s whispering something.
”Please leave us alone. I did it for a reason. I swear. He deserved it. Please make him go away. I’m sorry I couldn’t forgive him after he…”
She says a few words I don’t know. I think they’re the same ones Frankie was saying in his apologies. I pull away from the door and go back into my room. Frankie is still there, but his shirt is off, and I can see where the blood came from. There’s a few red wounds on his chest. He’s completely silent, but he’s staring at the ground. I kneel down to look at his face. He’s smiling.
He begins to stand up, and says nothing to me. He doesn’t even look at me. He walks towards my door, but instead of opening it, he goes right through it. I open it, trying to see where he went, and I see a glimpse of him entering Mom’s room. I try to open the door, but it’s locked. I knock a few times, but nobody responds.
“Mom, open the door.”
”Please leave me alone, please, no…”
”Mom!”
”No. Not again. Not this time.”
I hear a loud bang that makes me stumble backwards. My ears ring. I stay still for a moment, listening for any noise. Everything is uncomfortably quiet. I continue to knock on the door and try to open it. I even throw my body against it, but it only hurts my shoulders.
“Frankie?”
Nothing. I hear no sound at all. My ears are still ringing. I try the door one more time. It’s still locked, of course. I kneel down next to it, then lay on the ground, peering through the crack. I see Mom’s hand. She’s laying on the ground, too.
The ringing in my ears turns into sirens and I hear the front door slam open behind me. The carpet turns red.
“I’m sorry,” says Frankie.