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Teenage Ghost
Rhonda woke up and looked around her mother’s old room. “Jeff!”, she called out into the darkness. Silence greeted her in response. It was so early in the morning not even the insects were awake yet. She sat up in the bed and listened harder for at least snoring noises. Fake son or not, that kid should be in bed right now.
She got out of bed and walked to the hallway, turning on all the lights as she went. She checked every room, including the attic and basement.
She was alone in the house.
It was 3:15 am on a Tuesday morning. Rhonda took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen. She brewed a pot of coffee and sat down to drink the first cup.
Her mind began to wake up and theorize. Where was the boy at 3am on weeknight? What would a boy be doing out at 3am legitimately? Nothing, that’s what. He was up to no good. If he wasn’t out there selling drugs or breaking into people’s homes, then he was probably at the very least getting wasted somewhere.
Rhonda half laughed to herself, “Not even your fake kid is any good.”
After the second cup she began to think as any mother would. She got up from the kitchen and went into Jeff’s room.
She rummaged through every drawer and found nothing but clean, folded, well kept clothes. Even his underwear was neat and folded, his socks paired and folded neatly in rows. His folding was so meticulous, you could see the bottom of the drawers.
The desk was just as tidy and clean. The desk drawers held nothing but pencils, pens, markers, tape, and a stapler.
There was nothing in between his mattress and box-spring. There wasn’t even dust bunnies under his bed.
His closet was full of clothes and nothing else.
She glanced at the walls of the room, adorned with recent pop stars and cars. The small knick knacks that laid scattered about were just old toys from the nineteen eighties. Action figures mostly, from old cartoons.
Rhonda took in another deep breath. These were the signs of a clean cut kid, but these were also the signs of a serial killer.
She walked out of the room and back to the kitchen. She half expected to see Jeff standing there waiting for her with a butcher knife. The kitchen clock ticked as she turned to look at the time, it was 4am.
Rhonda poured herself another cup of coffee and reached for the pills on the counter. She took a few and sat down to think. In her mind she began to weigh the situation. As the pills began to take effect, her thoughts wandered.
‘Who cares if the kid is a serial killer, and who cares if I’m next.’ she thought as she put the pills back on the counter. ‘It would be a quick end to this misery I call a Life.’ she thought as she walked back to bed. As she fell asleep she felt numb, she didn’t care at all anymore.
She didn’t care about anything at all anymore.