"It was her! Grandma, it was Amy!" I screamed, trying my hardest for her to her hear me. I had been at this for days now, ever since I found out that absolutely no one was blaming Amy. I didn't know if they were even looking for who really did it or not, but I didn't care, all I cared about was everyone knowing who had done it.
"People see ghosts all the time, right? It's clearly possible." I assured myself. But I had been trying to communicate with her, or anyone, for two days now, and nothing was working. I couldn't scream loud enough, I couldn't move anything, and when I tried it felt like I was hitting a brick wall, all I could do was keep trying.
I tried moving the note I had written to her one last time before I gave up and wandered off to my room, thankfully my Grandma kept my door open. I sat down next to my window, taking in the nature that surrounded me. I had grown fond of the outside world, realizing now how much I had taken it for granted before I died. Now I was in a constant state of longing; longing to feel the heat from the sun beat down on me, the wind blowing through my hair or anything other than this constant state of nothingness.
All I could do was watch everyone else enjoy the things that I never took the time to. No one could hear me, no one could see me and they probably never would. I needed to tell someone who killed me, but I didn't know how to do that without speaking or maybe writing it down; sadly I can't do either of those.
I stared out my window, thinking about what had happened here not so long ago. I closed my eyes, replaying the kiss in my head with a smile on my face. My eyes opened, pulling me out of my dream. I felt tears streaming down my face, I wiped them away not wanting to cry. Thinking about Jace and that morning made me astonishingly sad, even more so than I have been.
There was a loud crash coming from the kitchen, distracting me from my thoughts. I stood and walked to the kitchen to see Grandma on the floor, cleaning up a plate she had dropped. She was muttering something to herself, cursing occasionally. I knelt down in front of her, watching the scene take place.
She threw the pieces she had picked up back down, placing her face in her hands. I knew this was my fault, that I was the reason behind her tears, but I could do nothing to help her. I had to try though.
"I'm sorry." I said, knowing she wouldn't hear me. "But, you know, it's gonna be okay; because everything will always turn out alright as long as you have me. That's what you used to say to me after mom and dad died." I trailed off, thinking of what to say next. "I know you don't know it, but you do still have me. So it's going to be okay. I promise."
It had been a few hours since the incident in the kitchen and I was right back at my bedroom window. I wanted to get out of the house, but I didn't see that happening anytime soon. ...