"I'm going crazy," Matthew mumbled before slapping his face. This would be the twelfth time since he washed his face in their school's luxurious bathroom.
Part of it was because he wanted to wake himself up, the other was because he wanted the visions to disappear- or at least that's what he thought those things were.
He stared at himself in the mirror of the restroom. What stared back at him was a pale-faced 18-year-old self who hadn't slept the other night.
Matthew just spent the entire night awake because of that ghost. He thought it would disappear once he leave his room. He was wrong.
"I already died once. Who would've thought ghosts could still scare me?" he sighed. Since last night, he'd seen five ghosts roaming inside the mansion and three more at school. And then there was the hunger. He'd been eating nonstop since he woke up, but it hadn't gone away.
For the umpteenth time, his stomach growled. "Why the heck does this place have so many damn ghosts?" he mumbled.
Matthew washed his face again. The water was cold, and for a second, it helped. He reached for the towel but paused when something felt off.
His eyes slowly lifted to the mirror.
Lenox was standing behind him.
Matthew's body locked up. His fingers stayed curled around the sink. He didn't move. He just stared at the reflection.
Lenox stood there casually, one hand in his pocket.
Matthew turned around fast. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Lenox blinked. "I've been calling you. You didn't answer."
Matthew grabbed the towel and wiped his face. "What do you want?"
"You seem tired," Lenox said.
"It's because I am."
"I know you didn't get that much sleep," Lenox stepped closer. "You shouldn't think too much about Catherine. She's just upset. Her mom's in the hospital, and they don't have the money for surgery."
Matthew rolled his eyes inwardly. Of course, he would bring that up again. This man wanted Matthew to pay for the surgery and get all the credit!
Lenox must have thought that he wasn't able to sleep because of Catherine and not because of that bloodied woman in his bathroom. "Who would think about women when they can see a ghost near them?" he mumbled inwardly.
"I'm not interested in Catherine," Matthew said as he tossed the towel back onto the counter.
Lenox looked surprised. "Come on, Matthew. You should understand her. You lost your mom too, didn't you?"
Matthew turned his head slowly and stared at him. His expression immediately changed.
Lenox shifted, suddenly comfortable.
"What's wrong?" Lenox asked.
"Don't talk about my mother."
Lenox raised both hands slightly. "Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."
Matthew didn't respond right away. His jaw tightened. He turned back toward the sink and washed his face again. It wasn't because he was irritated. No. It was because there was a ghost standing behind Lenox and he didn't like staring at it.
Lenox took a step back. "Really. I was just trying to help."
Matthew washed his face again, slower this time. He kept one eye on the mirror, watching the ghost behind Lenox.
It didn't move. It just stood there, arms down, eyes fixed on him. The figure wasn't horrifying, at least not like the others he'd seen. It looked like a young girl about the age of seven or eight, in an unfamiliar school uniform, her expression blank.
Still, it was enough to make his skin crawl.
He finished rinsing, then dried his face and turned. Without a word, he shoved Lenox to the side—not hard, just enough to put some distance between them. He didn't trust whatever was happening around this guy. The ghost hadn't left Lenox's side and he didn't like that.
Matthew snorted under his breath as he started walking away. "What kind of joke is this? I died once and now I'm scared of ghosts? I probably count as one myself."
Then suddenly, Lenox reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Hey, are you—"
Almost immediately, Matthew pulled away. To his surprise, Lenox stumbled backward. His foot caught the edge of the rug, and he landed hard on the floor with a loud thud.
Matthew blinked. He didn't mean to push him that hard.
Lenox sat up, rubbing his elbow. "What the hell? Why'd you push me?"
Matthew looked around. They were alone in the hallway. There was no one else to put on a show for. Besides, Lenox didn't act like someone who liked playing the victim. Especially not like this. Instead, this man liked to manipulate things from behinds the scenes.
"I didn't push you. My hand slipped," Matthew said. He didn't bother offering help. "Watch your step next time."
Then he turned and walked off.
However, he didn't get far.
Three figures stepped into the hallway from around the corner. They moved like they were waiting for him. Matthew recognized them instantly.
The one in the front was Adam—short for someone who always tried to act like a big shot. Black hair, styled like he spent hours on it. He was only about five foot eight, but the way he stood made it clear he thought he was in charge.
The two behind him were bigger.
One of them was blond with broad shoulders and a permanent smirk on his face. Matthew didn't remember his name. The third guy had a poorly hidden tattoo crawling up the side of his neck. The top part was visible, but it looked like it started from his chest. Someone had tried to cover it with makeup, but it was already cracking and fading. It didn't help. Again, he couldn't remember the man's name.
"Hey, Matthew," Adam said, stepping forward. "Do us a favor and grab something from the vending machine, will you? I'm craving chips."
The blond guy laughed. "Get me one of those canned coffees, too. You know the kind."
Matthew stared at them. He remembered this.
In the past, he used to give them money. Sometimes he'd run errands. All so they wouldn't mess with Lenox. The golden boy Lenox.
Not this time.
He didn't even respond. He shifted his weight and started walking past them. He wasn't in the mood for any of this.
However, the guy with the tattoo reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
Matthew didn't flinch.
It wasn't a strong grip. Nothing like what he was used to in the past. Then he frowned. This guy seemed strong, but why was his grip like this? Was he more bark than bite?
"Hey," the guy said. "Who told you you could leave?"