Page 51 of Ghost Girl

I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I large part of me felt like I should have been more guilty over consuming Bianca’s soul, but there was something about the way her energy buzzed inside of me that told me everything I needed to know. She was happy to be there, eager to help me avenge us in any way she could.

She wasn’t a voice inside my head or a second consciousness attempting to take control of my body. Whatever had happened when we’d merged, it was more like she had become a part of me, both of us accepting each other until she resided peacefully, like she was asleep, somewhere in the back of my mind. Her energy thrummed through me, but it was mine to use now, not hers. The contentment I felt from her… I couldn’t say for sure, but my best guess was it was the last thing she felt as I absorbed her, because the warmth of the feeling was countered by the chillof her fear, the pain of her brutal death, and sadness of the life and loved ones she had been forced to leave behind. Yet, there was a sense of rightness, of peace.

She had given herself to me willingly despite not knowing what would happen, and I was the prominent emotion I felt because of it was gratitude, not guilt.

She had saved me, and I had given her soul a way to rest. She didn’t have to fight anymore, because the weight of that responsibility fell on my shoulders instead. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Her sacrifice had allowed me to push past the flimsy barrier that had kept me prisoner since my own death, which was how I had found myself walking down a gravel path towards the campsite nearby. The campsite where I could hear Blake’s voice.

He was staying right next door, pretending as if he wasn’t torturing and murdering innocent women one property over and then burying their dismembered bodies in the backyard.

When the campsite finally came into view, my nose wrinkled in disgust at the scene that I found. The entire Dodd family had set themselves up in the largest space they could find, taking up multiple designated areas for parkingandtents. Their setup was extravagant and was essentially a polyester mansion. They even had collapsible steps leading up to the damn zip, space heaters wedged into the ground, and a garden set up outside, sun loungers, umbrellas, and even pots of flowers set up like they were moving in long term.

I didn’t even have to see Mallory and Florence (what the fuck?) lazing in bikinis, sipping some sort of frozen drink that undoubtedly contained too much alcohol on the lounge chairs to know this abominable afront to nature belonged to them. I’d bet there were actual furniture and appliances inside as well. These people took glamping to a whole new level, and I was thoroughly repulsed. When I was alive, I had gone camping a few times withBlake, and sometimes with Chance, Ashe and Mikey. None of those times had I been subjected to this monstrosity I had just stumbled upon.

And it was the most horrific collection of clashing neon colours. They probably denoted which room was which. I had a feeling the pink one was Florence’s. She was easier to pick out in a crowd with her closet of the most garish colours she could find.

Even now, her bikini was blinding. This one was a bright orange with red and pink zig-zag stripes, and I fought the urge to shield my eyes as the tiny triangles of fabric barely covered her privates. Upon closer examination, I took note of how she had been nipped and ticked so many times that her skin pulled unnaturally, her nose was practically non-existent and was almost completely swallowed up by the size of her lips. And her tits were so clearly fake, but to the stage where they didn’t even look like balloons. It looked like someone had implants two large boulder into her chest, stuck some nipples on top to ensure they poked out, but I had a feeling those had also been adjusted to make it look like they were perky, because heaven forbid her tits started to sag.

I wasn’t adverse to plastic surgery, but there came a point when someone had to say no. Like when a bartender took a customer’s keys when they were too drunk. The poor girl looked so stiff and constricted inside her own skin, it was a wonder she was even still able to move.

I was about to dismiss them and move on to find where Blake was currently staying, since he was undoubtedly around here somewhere, when the woman began to speak. It wasn’t the gossip that caught my attention, however, so much as the subject of it.

‘I must apologise on behalf of my son again, Flo, dear. His behaviour has always been abhorrent, but it haven’t been able to get through to him for… well,years,’ Mallory said whilecontinuing to sip her drink. It was red, and I was now close enough to smell strawberries, sugar, and rum. Of course, they were drinking strawberry daiquiris. I should have guessed. It was Mallory’s vacation drink of choice.

I clocked a mechanical churning and poked my head around the tent’s opening to find a makeshift kitchen. An industrial, portable battery was connected to multiple appliances, but the whirring came from the slushy machine propped on top of a foldable table, red-tinted ice churning around inside. Multiple bottles of rum, a cooler full of chopped strawberries, bottles of strawberry syrup, and emptied plastic bags that had once contained the ice littered the surrounding area, and I rolled my eyes. I had known both women for a very long time, and neither one of them could be found without some form of alcohol nearby, so it wasn’t that surprising.

That wasn’t what had me wrinkling my nose, however, because despite the frivolity of bringing their own slushy machine camping, it was pretty ingenious. No, what really got me was the full kitchen setup with a fridge, a stove, an oven, and even a portable microwave. And, of course, the full drinks refrigerator completely stocked with an array of alcohol. Beers, spirits, and liqueurs were stacked neatly inside a glass-doored refrigeration unit, and beside that, a full rack of the most expensive wines just waited to be opened, even though most of them wouldn’t see the light of day until they had returned home. I doubted they would be here for much longer. They could bring as much luxury with them as they pleased, but it would never be the same as their impeccably (and impersonally) styled mansions. They would miss their staff soon enough.

I grinned to myself when I realised I didn’t have to temper my opinions about the ridiculousness of their frivolous lifestyle, and I greatly enjoyed the eye roll I didn’t bother holding back. It would have taken Calvin and Blake a good, long while to setall this up between the two of them. I wasn’t sure if Blake’s wife would have tried to help or not, but Mallory would have never permitted it.

Florence’s response to Mallory’s apology drew my attention back outside, and I settled in to eavesdrop, leaning against the pole of the tent and enjoying the fact that I could actually do so now without falling through.

‘That man is a lost cause, Mallory. I know you mean well and want the best for him, but Chance is the farthest thing from marriage material. His job is a joke, he treats women poorly, and I’m pretty sure he’s… Well, I hate to say it, but there isn’t a man on this earth I can’t seduce, and he hasn’t shown an ounce of interest in me. I can only conclude that he’s one of those…homosexuals,’she finished, whispering the last word like it was some sort of dirty secret. I laughed, then laughed harder when Mallory gasped in horror. Not only were they bigots, but they were idiots, too. Chance was the furthest thing from gay a man could get. He loved women. He loved their bodies. He loved sex. I would know, since he told me all about his conquests, and I’d played his wing woman more times than I could count.

Chance. Gay? Ha!

What was even more laughable was the incomprehensibly delusional confidence Florence was exuding. She looked like a silicone cyborg, half human, half Barbie doll, with a dash of ready-to-burst balloon chucked in there for the extra flair. There wasn’t a single natural thing about her that had survived, yet she thoughtChanceof all people, who detested everything she stood for, would fall for her charm? Please. Even that was false.

And the fact that Mallory was pushing her on him? It just proved how little she actually knew about her firstborn son. How little she truly cared about his happiness. All she wanted was for him to stop embarrassing her, to fall in line and become another little rich-boy clone to fit in with her picture-perfect imageshe had painstakingly curated. She may not have had as many procedures as Florence, but she was just as fake.

‘He isnota…’ Mallory trailed off, completely affronted at the prospect of a gay son. ‘Chance is straight, I can promise you, Florence. Perhaps you are just not as desirable as you believe yourself to be,’ she snipped, turning things back around onto Florence, who, of course, took immediate offence to the slight.

‘I see who he got his bad manners from, Mallory. Perhaps I should leave and let you pick up the disgusting pieces of your pathetic son’s mistakes.’

She stood, not a single jiggle in any of the places a body should jiggle, and tossed the remainder of her daiquiri on my mother-in-law. Well,ex-mother-in-law, now. And good riddance.

I decided, since she was being such a prissy little bitch, that I should test my newfound abilities on her to see what I was capable of. So, as Florence was walking away, I stuck my foot out and focused all of my energy and willpower on making it as solid as possible.

She walked right through me like I wasn’t here.

I bit my lip and considered how to make myself more tangible. I didn’t know if it was even possible, but since I was able to touch things, perhaps I could move something? But what?

I scanned the area to find something small and light, because it was better to start off easy and work my way up to the heavy stuff, right? But there wasn’t much around. Everything I saw was too large or too dense. Until I saw the perfect opening. Mallory huffed and picked up her phone, typed out a message, and then placed it back down on the table beside her after she sent it. Her phone was face up, unlocked, and justbeggingto be messed with.

So, I poked at it with my forefinger, just to see. Then did a little happy dance when the screen lit up, the message thread to her husband right there for me to see. Since I was a ghost, there wasnothing to stop me from being nosy, so I read the message she sent.

Florence is a bust. Need a new plan.

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