Sleeping With Ghosts

Mikey

I could hear my brother in the next room, I couldn't tell if he was in pain or ecstasy but when I heard him crying I knew for sure. I got out of my bed and walked to his room, opening the door slightly. He was hunched over his bed, still crying. I entered the room and shut the door, sitting beside him on the bed. "You okay man?" I asked him. He didn't respond, he just pulled me close and sobbed into my shoulder. I let him cry, stroking his newly black hair. He never did explain it, but after we moved into this house he started working out, dropped so much weight I barely recognized him. Then one day he surprised all of us by coming home with his long hair dyed black.

Actually, come to think of it Gerard didn't talk as much as he used to. He hardly talked at all. When he did he acted horribly jumpy and couldn't answer basic questions. Not just that but he started dressing all in black and wearing make up and nail polish. Mom tried to have me figure out what was wrong with him but he wouldn't confide in me. He barely spoke to me. But sometimes, I'd lay awake and hear him crying at night. I'd come in a few times and tried to hold him but usually he shoved me away. Now he was clutching at me like I was a rock in the middle of the ocean, and he'd drown if he let go. I summoned my courage as I adjusted my glasses and asked, "Gee, what's wrong?"

He stilled, like he was considering the question. Finally, he responded. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you little bro." He pulled away and stared at me, his eyes horribly bloodshot from the crying. "Dude, for fuck's sake tell me! I'm worried, Mom and Dad are terrified! They want to have you committed!" I exclaimed and he looked down, not meeting my eyes. "Come on bro, please tell me." I said quietly, pulling him to me. I held him as he sighed, a few silent tears falling from his face. "Alright, I'll tell you but you can't tell Mom and Dad. If you do I swear to God I'll fucking kill you!" He yelled, pulling away again. "Alright... I won't. What's wrong?"

Gerard sighed and stared at the wall. "This house is haunted. The ghost here, his name is Brian Molko." "Fuck..." I muttered. We'd moved around a lot over the years, and after the second house we lived in we all realized Gerard was sensitive to ghosts. He could see, hear and even feel them and the family had had to switch apartments twice because of a couple ghosts that had been hurting my brother. We all thought he was making it up, until one materialized in the living room one night and slapped Dad. "What's this one done? He hasn't been scratching or hitting you has he?" I asked, trying to keep the annoyed tone out of my voice.

"Worse... Mikey please don't hate me when I tell you! He's an Englishman and at first he was very charming but..." Gerard started crying again and I watched him intently. "But what?" I asked, holding my breath. To be honest I really didn't care that these ghosts talked to and hurt my brother. Callous as it sounds I just didn't want to have to move again. "Brian's different. He hasn't hit me he..." Then Gerard cracked. He threw himself onto the bed and started sobbing. He was crying hard into his pillow and now I felt really guilty. This ghost was hurting him more than the others, and all I could think about was what a pain it would be for us to move because of it.

"Gee, what happened? Please tell me!" I said, frantic now that he wasn't coming up for air. Finally, he stopped and turned his head to the side so he could breathe. "Mikey, please don't hate me..." He muttered. "Gee, nothing you could ever do would make me hate you, please just tell me what the fuck is going on! What the fuck has this ghost done to you?!" Gerard was quiet, avoiding my eyes. Finally he spoke up. "He's been fucking me."