The Ghost of You

I smashed my hand onto the alarm the second that I heard its obnoxious beeping sound fill the darkness around me. I sighed, letting my eyes slip closed again for a moment as I tried to replay the end of the dream I'd been having; something about flying. I knew that I couldn't lay there much longer if I wanted to make it to work on time, and I silently cursed my early shift as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I felt that familiar rush in my head as I stood, my vision temporarily blacking out. I regained my senses and steadied myself with a hand on my headboard before padding into the connected bathroom.

I picked up my toothbrush and started to brush my teeth, shivering in my oversized hoodie. I looked into my sleep-ridden brown eyes, staring at the extra fat lining my cheeks. Averting my eyes, I spit the toothpaste into the sink and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I stripped off my clothes and turned on the shower, giving the ancient hot water tank a minute to heat up. As I waited, I found my eyes wandering to the cupboard under the sink. I tried to pull my mind away from the thought nagging at it, but I just- I had to know.

I opened the small wooden door, the knob almost coming off in my hand. I guess this was what I got for living off of minimum wage. My hand reached instinctively for the large rectangular piece of plastic that I had shoved back there last night. I dragged it out, the muscles in my arm clenching with the weight of it. I set the scale onto the stained tiles at my feet, lightly tapping my toe on it to turn it on. When the screen displayed a zero, I stepped on, my stomach fluttering as I saw the little digital lines running across the screen. It was going to be higher than yesterday, I knew it was. Just like I knew that I shouldn't have had those extra few slices of apple last night, but I'd been weak and indulged.

When the number finally appeared, I felt my chest sag with relief. I'd somehow managed not to gain; actually, I'd lost a little. But, as the numbers on the scale glared at me, I obviously hadn't lost enough. I quickly stepped off of the scale and stuffed back into its hiding place. I didn't need anyone else to tell me to stop obsessing over my weight, not that anyone ever actually came to my apartment.

I climbed into the shower, hurriedly scrubbing my hair under the lukewarm water. It soon turned cold, jogging my still half asleep brain into painful awareness. As I finished and toweled off, my mind floated back to the numbers. Always the numbers. On the scale, on the packages, on the minuscule paycheck that I received every month. I'd never been very good at math in school, but now the numbers came easily to me. In some ways, I wished they didn't. Wished that I could spend more than a few brief minutes thinking about something other than the constant counting in my head.

I made my way back to my room, my hair still dripping with water. I shuddered in the cold as I flung some boxers and a pair of jeans on my bed. It was the middle of the summer, yet I still had to sleep with multiple blankets if I didn't want to freeze my ass off all night. It wasn't as if I had someone else in bed with me to keep me warm.

I slid the clothes that I'd taken out onto my body, feeling the jeans clinging to my waist. I frowned, looking down. They'd never been this tight before, even when I'd first bought them a few years ago. As I picked up my rumpled work polo from the floor, I tried to calculate the best way to get rid of the extra weight. The scale must've been glitching earlier, because there was no way that that number corresponded with the sickly fat body that was reflected in the mirror before me.
I pulled the shirt over my head, the dull brown somehow making me look even worse, the double arches printed on the back of the fabric practically screaming out how much of a failure I was. I picked up my phone from the counter and, seeing that I was already late, scrambled out the door without even bothering to tie my shoes.

I stumbled into the hallway, turning to lock the door behind me. I hurried past the apartment that was across the hall toward the stairs, trying to keep myself from tripping on the laces. The other apartment, which had been unoccupied for as long as I had lived there, was the only one on this floor besides my own. If the shitty building didn't keep buyers away, the fact that it was room number 13 certainly scared most people. It was a pretty dumb superstition, but I hadn't chosen to buy that apartment either. Some of the people on the other floors used to say that it was haunted, which was ridiculous. Then again, they were always buzzed out of their minds- just the sort of people I'd get stuck living near.

I continued down the stairs to the basement floor, estimating just how many calories I could be burning from this. I didn't know the exact amount, but I did know one thing- it wasn't nearly enough.

My car was parked in the corner, a beat up piece of crap Ford that I'd bought when I'd moved out. Back when I thought that I'd actually do something with my life. As I climbed into the drivers seat and pulled out of the garage, I remembered all the hopes that I used to have. I was going to be in a band, travel the world, make a difference. Nowhere in that plan was a day job at McDonald's.
I pursed my lips as I approached the huge sign towering outside of the restaurant (if you could even call it that). I truly hated my job, taking orders from high schoolers and obese adults who constantly judged my lack of an actual career. Not that I didn't already do that myself.

When I entered the building and pushed through the employee's only door, I was greeted by my manager, Matt. I didn't think I'd ever seen him smile, and he certainly wasn't about to start today.

"You're late," he growled, narrowing his eyes.

I shrugged. "Sorry."

He knew that I really didn't care about the job, and it pissed him off to no ends; but then again, he understood what it was like to scrape by paycheck to paycheck.

"Ray's been filling in for you," he muttered, casting a dirty look toward the register.

I nodded, slipping past him toward the front of the kitchen. Other employees packaged greasy hamburgers into bags will dull, lifeless eyes, and I was reminded of how lucky I was that I at least got to work the register.

I poked Ray in the shoulder as I stepped up to the register next to his. He turned his head to look at me, his curls bouncing.

"Look who finally showed up," he muttered as he punched in an order, although I could see that he was smiling.

I just shook my head and announced to the next person in line that I could take their order. As the two teenagers with matching basketball jerseys started to tell me what they wanted, I felt myself settling back into the monotonous daily routine. It was boring and predictable, but in some ways that was helpful. Having to work the register meant that I couldn't slip up and eat when I wasn't supposed to. I'd already planned out my intake for the day, and I meant to stick to that schedule. There was no way that I was going to end up looking like the guy who'd just ambled up to the counter, whose stomach I could see sticking out under his shirt.

I allowed my mind to wander as I continued to work, not needing much thought to press buttons on a machine and fake a smile to guarantee customer satisfaction. I'd scheduled out my day until dinner, which I was still arguing with myself about. The restaurant allowed me to take some food home with me as a job perk, which was nice considering my limited budget. I stared at the nutrition facts plastering every surface around me, trying to determine which would allow me to stick within my self-imposed limit. Some of them were too much...maybe I could run for a little longer after work? Just thinking about it made my stomach clench with anxiety.

"Frank!" someone said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"Break time," Ray said, gesturing with his head toward the back of the kitchen.

We both worked practically the same hours, which meant that our break was at the same time. A teenage kid replaced our spots, and we made our way out the door and to the side of the building. Ray leaned against the brick wall, and I followed suit. The summer sun was beating down on us, yet the only reason that I wasn't wearing a sweatshirt was because the dress code said that I couldn't.

Ray slid a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, offering one to me. I graciously accepted, resting it between my lips and then leaning forward so that he could light it with the small green lighter that he always carried with him. I inhaled deeply, then pulled out the cigarette to hold it in my hand while I slowly exhaled. The pressure in my chest began to fade, as did the rumbling in my stomach.

We didn't talk much, enjoying the silence from the constant beeping of friars and chatter of the drive-through window. A few preppy-looking kids walked past us and pushed inside, carrying college textbooks under their arms.

Once they'd gone inside, I turned to Ray. "Y'know, that could've been us."

Ray rolled his eyes, taking another drag. "You, maybe. I never even graduated."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

He nodded, though he seemed disinterested. "Yeah. School just wasn't my thing."

I'd never thought of Ray as smart, but I'd assumed that he'd at least graduated. Or maybe I was just hoping that my job wasn't really just for burnouts, even though I knew that it was. We lapsed into a silence, which abruptly ended when I realized that we'd been outside for too long and had to get back to work.

Putting out the cigarettes in a nearby ashtray, Ray and I went back inside to be welcomed by the nauseating smell of fried food. The new crowd of customers was by no means any different from the earlier one, except now they all wanted their meat in the form of a burger instead of bacon. Not that I was totally sure that either of those meats were exactly what my employer claimed them to be.

I started to zone out again, and only when Matt tapped me on the shoulder to let me know that my shift was over did I finally regain my senses. I grabbed a prepackaged salad from a fridge in the back, making sure to log my selection along with my hours before heading outside. I saw Ray standing near my car, a to-go bag in his hand.

"Wanna have lunch with me?"

I tried not to let him see my immediate repulsion toward the idea. "I'm okay, I think I'm going to eat at home. I'm kinda tired."

It wasn't that I didn't like Ray- he was nice, he gave me cigarettes, he laughed at my jokes about the stick up Matt's ass. I just wasn't a huge fan of eating in front of people, and I actually was pretty tired. I hadn't slept very well the night before; actually, I couldn't remember the last time I'd made it through the night without waking up every few hours.

Ray rolled his eyes at me. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You don't eat."

I felt the color rising to my cheeks, and I turned away so Ray wouldn't see. "See you tomorrow," I muttered, pulling open the door to my car.

"Sure," he said, and I could imagine him smirking at me from behind.

Frustrated, I slammed the car door closed beside me once I'd gotten in. I set the salad down on the seat next to me, glancing at it as I started to back out the car. The cheese, the croutons, the dressing...it was going to be too much. I already ate way more than Ray thought I did; maybe I should just take the hint and cut back some more.

A small part of me argued that this was dumb, it was just a salad. But it was drowned out by the numbers that started to scream in response. Numbers, always the numbers. I couldn't look anywhere without seeing them. The higher the amount, the higher the volume of the voices. And the only way I knew how to shut them up was to do what they said.

After pulling into the garage of the dinky apartment building, I snatched the salad and carried it with me as I jogged to the bottom of the stairwell. Jogging burns more calories than walking. I didn't know why that was my immediate thought, why my mind automatically jumped to the numbers once again. I didn't know if I even wanted it to do that. But there was nothing I could do but obey.

I took the stairs two at a time, almost tripping halfway up because of my short legs. Short fat legs, as my brain never failed to remind me. When I reached the lobby, I made a quick stop at the trash can, stuffing the salad container inside. If I kept it with me, I might do something stupid like give in and eat it.

I returned to my climb up the stairs, eventually reaching my floor. I had to steady myself with the railing when I eventually arrived, a spell of dizziness overcoming me. I then padded across the cheaply carpeted floor to my door, fishing my keys out of my pocket. As I tried to orient them to the lock, my hand started to shake and I dropped them on the floor.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, bending down to pick them up.

As I stood, I heard a door open behind me. Startled, I spun around to see someone standing in the doorway of apartment 13. He held a box in his hand, piled to the brim. I couldn't see his eyes under the mop of tousled red hair which hung around his face.

"Who're you?" I asked, staring at the man in confusion.

He jumped, spinning around to face me. "When the hell did you get there?"

I didn't answer, waiting for him to respond.

"I'm Gerard," he finally said, pushing against the door behind him. "And who might you be?"

"Frank," I replied, still suspicious of him.

"Well Frank," he said, stepping fully into his apartment so that the door was only propped open by his foot. "It's been nice meeting you. Now do me favor and fuck off."

With that, he closed the door, leaving me alone in the hallway.

Notes

Hey everyone, new fic! I'm not sure if you've read my stuff before or if you're new, but either way thanks for reading. Just a few notes: first, I have a completed fic that you can read if you go to my profile thingy. Second, if you follow me on tumblr I'll love you forever and you'll know whenever I update. Third, comments are much appreciated.
Also, just wanted to say that if this fic is in any way triggering to you, please don't read it, it's not worth it. I use this to express my own personal feelings, and I'd feel awful if something were to happen to you because of it.
I think that's all- let's see how this goes.