After a few hours, Clay gave Jacob back the remote choosing to stay in his room and catch up on some work.

He faced the dimly lit wall near his bed trying not to let all his weight settle on the plastic kindergarten chair. The desk wasn't any better; a white folding table similar to those you see at parties. It had one leg missing and another shorter than the remaining two causing the thing to shake whenever he wrote. Previously they needed to keep a stack of old middle school books lying around to support it adequately. As long as there was enough space to work assignments it was fine in Clay's eyes. There was a weight limit, unfortunately, to avoid it from snapping in half. That was clear with the first table. He just couldn't have too many books on it at once.

Everything in the room seemed to match that hand-me-down aesthetic. His clothes were all from his brother. The furniture was from the back of old furniture stores, coming with all sorts of missing pieces and malfunctioning parts. Jacob even tried to give him toys and trinkets he found during his working hours. Luckily he was able to save up for his laptop and phone. Jonah was not the one to be blamed though. Yet, his fingers still tightened around the pen at the thought.

Muffled voices penetrated his door from the TV downstairs. From what he could gather it was one of those late-night reality TV shows that probably just played right after what Jacob was watching. Everything else in the house was already off, including his room light. Leaving the room barely alight by his doll-sized reading light. He could almost say for certain his brother was passed out; he came home exhausted after all. Even if he did come home early today, it would just mean he would have to work extra hours during the week like he always did.

Trying desperately to scribble down the answers he got from the phone Clay was devoid of all concentration. What was he thinking? Jacob was trying to do his best - that was good. He was never the most responsible, on the other hand, he had kept them afloat for months. He tried to pretend but Clay knew he was struggling. After all, if he wasn't home most of the time, the house would barely get cleaned and the bills wouldn't be paid on time. Jacob wasn't cut out to be a parent so young, it wasn't fair to him. The construction job was barely paying for everything with the extra hours. Clay had to use the old furniture that broke whenever he wasn't careful and Jacob doesn't even leave the house for anything other than work. This could not have been healthy right?

"What are you doing J, just give up," he found himself saying out loud.

Things would have gone a lot differently if they had just left White Oak. His brother would have had a decent job as a comic creator as he wanted, he would have been able to finish college and they would have a bigger house. Not only, but Clay might have found himself in a school where friendships were achievable. The only reason he drags himself to school in the morning in the first place was that there was no need to cause conflict when things were already difficult on there own. It wasn't what he wanted to do, but rather what would make things easier for his brother. Yet for all nothing was changing -nothing was getting better.

Give it time he used to lie to himself. They'll come around he thought over and over.

That soon became a foolish attempt to befriend the new students who didn't know anything about who he was. Of course, that didn't work.

Tears started swelling in his eyes. Why couldn't they just go away already? He didn't want to feel bad about any of this. It was selfish. Albeit no one could see this, so no one could judge him. Clay bit into his fist doing his best to stifle the noises and allowing tears to soak the paper. Ink swirled and pooled, smudging all over leaving an incomprehensible black splotch at the centre of his work.

"It's okay," he tried his best to gather himself reaching over to his bedside table. He threw open the top drawer shoving an entire arm inside. When it came out, a transparent cylindrical container was within his grip. Shaking it gently, he contemplated if he truly needed it.

"Just tonight."

Chucking it down the hatch, and struggling to swallow one of the almond-shaped pills with a lump already occupying his throat. The stupid thing was getting harder to swallow the more he did it.

"Just once, I would like to feel something other than rejected," his sigh brought a numbness to in both legs. It had already started to work. After a while, the tears stopped and everything seemed to go back to how he liked it; calm.

Without delay, a cold wind whispered behind his ear sending shivers down his spine. The window was closed before, wasn't it? Must have slipped his mind to close it when he came inside. Today was oddly windy and chillier than usual. For a ghost town that would have brought in customers no doubt. Wearing thick tack pants and drowning in a wool Christmas sweater didn't seem to help defend him either.

Weaving around the clothes sleeping the floor, Clay made his way to the square hole in the wall. Outside was a soulless black, tiny white lights dotted the neighbourhood. It should have had a much bigger one annoying him from right outside. But, of course, their streetlight had to be the one to stop working.

If karma existed he wanted to know what he did to piss it off.

Out of nowhere, his own lights started blinking on and off leaving the room in complete darkness for seconds at a time. Slamming the window down, he grabbed on to the stupid thing trying hard to not get blinded by the light show. It was moments like those that he truly contemplated the existence of ghosts. No one would never jump to paranormal forces as their first answer for things but yet you never know what could be lurking at twelve am. Ghosts, aliens vampires, just because no one never saw them does not mean they don't exist. After all, someone must have seen something to start the town's ghost craze. That or they were clinically insane.

He felt a sudden stabbing sensation pierce into the side of his neck, releasing a hiss in response. Holding onto the area he was stung, his other hand was free to continuously push the off button. Clay had never been stung by a bee before but assuming that was the case, he paid no mind as the pain lingered for several moments. The lamp continued to defy his wishes to turn off possessing a mind of its own. In frustration, he yanked the plug from the wall, resting it down and collapsing on the bed.

Bad luck. That's what the town was for them. There's only so much more they were willing to put up with.

...

The morning right after, Clay awoke in a pool of his own sweat. For some reason, there was a burning sensation that washed over in his sleep. Forcing himself to sit up, his lungs exploded in a nasty cough. It felt as if his throat had something stuck within it that prevented normal breathing. He paid little mind however, there were other things that needed to be done first; proceeding to stop the alarm right before it could go off. If this was going happen, he needed to have the strength to do this now before he could talk himself out of it.

Downstairs reeked of burning plastic and rusty metal as smoke travelled to the ceiling. There were hopes that this would have acted as a cover for his intentions but Jacob caught him before he could leave the stairs. The older boy was holding one of the kitchen cloths over his mouth and nose to avoid the smells Clay was unfortunate to witness. It was clear there was a small fire from the mess the kitchen was in and the residue foam from the fire extinguisher was scattered all over the countertop.

"Morning!" even though the cloth it was obvious Jacob was smiling to distract from the situation " why aren't you getting ready for school?"

This was it. Deep Breaths. Clay's managed a serious expression "I'm not going."

His brother paused taking in the situation before realising he was serious about what was said. A deep sigh made its way through the fabric "You're going to school and that's final." His once smiling eyebrows were now lying down without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Clay had never heard him speak to him like that but from that, he knew that he had thrown himself headfirst into a conversation both of them were trying their best to avoid.

What was with that flashing lamp....weird. Well i guess it isn't that weird for an alleged "ghost town" . Also, what was that pain in Clay's neck about?

I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far!! Thats all for this week but I'll see you next week. Until then, feel free to post your books on my message board and I'll try to read some if them over the weekend.

The support on this book has been amazing and I am so thankful to all of you for your nice comments and your votes. I was honestly expecting this book to get 3 reads tops with my mediocre grammar but I couldn't be happier. Also, there may or may not be an announcement later on in the week.

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