Chapter 42: Prove That Fucker Wrong
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Xander stayed on the floor, palms pressed to the carpet like it might anchor him. His arms shook from more than pain now and cold sweat beaded along his spine as he couldn’t do more than stare at this monstrousity.
On the bright side, he can boldly state that he’d seen a zombie and a haunted house in real life, so that was a plus...right?
Who was he kidding? No one would believe him in his original world.
The thing that looked like his father stood a few feet away, blood still dripping from the knife clutched in his crusty grey hand and the knife caught the light of the flickering lamp and cast streaks of red reflections across the wall.
"You’ve been lying to yourself all these years," it said—his father’s voice, but wrong somehow too calm. Too slow. Like someone pressing play on a recording with sticky fingers. "Saying that you did it for your mother...but I’m reality, you just wanted me gone."
"You think you’re a hero now? You think these can actually trust you to protect them?"
Xander forced his breathing to slow, fingers curling tighter against the floor. He didn’t answer, he couldn’t...not with the way his chest clenched around the words he didn’t want to admit might still live in the corners of his mind.
"They see it, Xander," the ghost said, stepping closer. "Everyone sees your incompetence."
Its boots dragged along the carpet, one toe snagging slightly like the corpse was learning how to walk in its own skin.
"You should stay here...where no one will have to deal with how disappointing you are."
"Shut up," Xander said quietly.