Followed by Death

I carried the label of “freak” with me to every school I went to. I was at my sixth school, sitting in a corner of the cafeteria while trying to avoid the latest group of bullies when, suddenly, I felt a cold breeze brush past me.

“Not again…” I wished I didn’t hear anything this time. Thankfully, I didn’t.

It started six years ago when I was ten. I began to feel presences that weren’t there, and felt as if something was always trying to reach out to me. This happened no matter how many times I switched schools, and each time, the presence I felt was a different one.

My mom, being superstitious, made things worse for me by forcing me to wear protective rings and chains that brought too much attention to me. Many classmates made fun of me, saying I was a witch. I sometimes wondered whether they were right. If only I could fully see what was reaching out to me…

One morning, I was with my eyes shut while listening to music when, suddenly, I felt that familiar presence brush past me with a whisper. I opened my eyes and found a boy seated next to me. I didn’t recognise him.

“Another new kid? I hope he doesn’t have to deal with bullies.”

The boy sat still in his seat and looked ahead, so I closed my eyes and went back to drowning the world out with my earphones.

For the next three days, I found this new kid sitting next to me without so much as a word, so on the fourth day, I decided to talk to him. He never got on the bus that day. However, later that afternoon, I saw him sitting alone in the cafeteria where I usually sat. It was strange: he had no food with him, and he was staring into empty space like he always did on the bus. I walked up to the same table and sat next to him.

“Want a sandwich?” I asked, grabbing one from my lunchbox.

For the first time, I saw him move. The boy slowly turned his head towards me. His movements were strange, almost like a machine.

“I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, but I had no choice but to wait for you to talk first.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“My name is Len. I was bullied just like you, but I was long gone weeks before you arrived at this school. They just never found my body.”

That familiar chill began to creep in, surrounding me in its cold embrace—it pierced through my skin and sank into my bones. “Y-you mean to s-say…”

Len nodded. “I’ll tell you where my body is. Please tell the police; my mom needs closure.”

I said I was feeling sick and left school immediately. That evening, I made an anonymous call to the police and told them where Len’s body was hidden.

Len’s bullies had buried his body deep within the woods near the school, where the famous kids would go to get drunk or high. The bullies were tried as adults and were given life sentences. Len visited me one last time after the trial was over to say goodbye. I was glad I was able to provide him and his mom the closure they needed, and also that I was finally able to understand the full extent of my abilities. I wondered when I’d see another ghost; I just hoped the next case wouldn’t be so tragic.