RILEY

It was risky. But it was worth it.

Things didn't go anything like I'd planned it to. After she said yes, I wanted to continue talking to her through graffiti. But then she actually looked at me.

I couldn't believe she could really see me. It was so strange and it felt like a dream. But it had actually happened.

However, I didn't exactly enjoy lying to her throughout most of the conversation. I just couldn't bring myself to do something like that- how could I possibly do it?

"I haven't seen you around before," she had said, her large amber eyes gleaming with curiosity, "which school are you from?"

"I'm, um, homeschooled." I'd lied, trying to maintain what I hoped was a straight face.

"Ohh," She nodded slowly, "That explains it. So do you have any friends?"

"They're all in college, so it gets kind of lonely around here when they're not around." That was only a half lie- they were in university, not college. But it did get lonely.

We didn't get to talk for very long. She'd had a call, and worry shrouded her face, before she said goodbye and hurried away. Her last words to me before she left were, "I'll see you around, Riley", and it was in that moment that it had actually hit me that I'd literally just spoken to a living, breathing human being.

Which leads me to what I am doing now: Freaking out.

I'm also extremely confused as to how she can even see me. It feels almost too good to be true. The one person who I've observed (or in some ways stalked) for ages just happens to be the one who can see me. Is it just pure luck?

If only being a ghost came with a handbook or something. I'm sick and tired of being confused all the time.

But...it was so nice talking to her. She didn't know anything about me. She wasn't afraid, because she didn't know what I was. It felt so good. To be able to talk to someone like that.

Maybe it's best she just didn't know.

VALERIE

I was beginning to get excited, talking to the boy at the park. There were so many questions I still had for him. And if I could, I probably would have been talking to him for the whole day. About normal things. It didn't have to be something eventful or important.

Just a small conversation about...whatever friends could talk about. I hadn't realised how much I'd longed for that before meeting him.

But then my phone rang.

It was Mum.

"Valerie?"

"Hey, Mum. Is everything okay?" I'd asked. Her voice was quiet, and my throat had already started to run dry, causing me to fidget around with my scarf a bit more.

"Yes, dear. On your way home today, could you get another first aid kit from Marjorie's? You don't have to get it now-"

"A first aid kit? Why?" Although I already knew. He had beaten her again, and she was probably lying on the ground covered in bruises and cuts. "I'll be there in ten." I said to her before hanging up.

Riley was looking at me expectantly.

"I'm sorry," I said to him, "I have to go. I'll see you around, Riley." I gave him a small smile before jogging back up the street and towards the grocery store.

Marjorie is reading a book at the till. She doesn't notice me until I put a first aid box on the counter. When I do, she looks up, and takes off her reading glasses to look at me properly.

"Another one?"

"Yes."

"Is this another thing for your course practical?" She raises an eyebrow when I nod at her. "Then why do you seem so upset? What's wrong?"

"Can I just...have the box?" I ask her eagerly, placing the money down next to it.

She waves it away. "Just take it. And when you finish school, Valerie, we need to talk."

"But-"

"No objections. We are talking when you've finished college. You don't think I've noticed your mood? That needs to be sorted out."

I want to speak against it again, but instead I shut my mouth and nod, before taking the box and heading out the door.

As I speed-walk down the road and toward my street, I pray silently in my head, as my fingers play with the loose strands of the scarf, unable to keep still. Please may he have left the house. Maybe he has some errand to do at the bar. Maybe he is going out for drinks with a friend. He knows loads of other men around the area.

I don't want to see him. But when I step into the house, the sound of deep, loud cackling erupts from the living room, and to my despair, there he is sharing a beer with a group of friends. One of them I recognise as Timmy. His eyes meet mine, small and sly, as he gives me a wink. But I know it's not a friendly one. I know exactly what kind of sign he is giving. He wants me to keep my mouth shut.

"Hey, Vals." Dad says cheerily, a large grin plastered on his face. He has his feet up on the coffee table, where the large bottle of beer stands, almost empty. Is he going to smash that on the ground too, later on?

"Boys, this is my girl. Valerie. I know some of you met her before, when I invited you on her birthday. She was a bit smaller than that back then." He lets out a wheezy laugh, and the other men follow suit.

"Valerie. Yeah, I've seen you around town. With your cute little girl friends, right?" One of the men, with a large beer belly and balding ginger hair says to me, his grin revealing his set of crooked, orange teeth.

He obviously hasn't seen me around.

"There's this tall Asian one with really nice legs. I remember you bringing her over when I was last here. What was it? Francis? Felicia?" He says, laughing again and making me feel unwell. I shake my head, and silently turn away.

"Dad, I have homework to do."

"Of course, of course! Go and do whatever you have to do."

I head straight to the kitchen where Mum is sitting on a stool, tapping away at her phone. Her eye is red, and looks like it's beginning to swell. And her arms...covered in dented purplish-brown marks across her skin. It was just as I predicted.

"How can he keep doing this to you?" I whisper.

Mum says nothing, and takes the first aid kit from me. She rummages through it before eventually finding some antiseptic.

"Mum," I call her but she does not respond. "Mum!"

"Be quiet, Valerie. I can't deal with your whining right now." She mutters, dabbing the antiseptic onto her arm with cotton wool. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"Let me help."

"You have homework."

"No. No I don't," I rest my hands on both her shoulders, making her look at me. The brightness that defined her large amber eyes that mirror mine has gone, and is replaced by a dull and dead expression."Mum. We can't keep letting this happen. We need to get out of here."

Her lips part slightly, and it seems like she wants to say something. But then she pushes my hand away and walks out the kitchen.

I watch her leave, my insides feeling like they're crumbling.

How much longer are we supposed to put up with this?