Chapter 2: Rot

Jamie’s nose tingled as she entered the room after Michael. The smell was just so terrible she couldn’t bear to breathe. She looked round but could see nothing in the pitch-black darkness in front of her. The door closed behind her and her heart speeded up. “Erm...” she murmured. “Michael?”
“Oh,” came a voice from the corner.
There was another click and the light sprung on. She gasped in horror at what was lying on the floor. “Michael,” she gasped a tear springing to her eye.
The Michael sat in the corner just continued to stare blankly at his body. Jamie began to cry fully. “You killed him,” she croaked.
“You still don’t believe me?”
“You killed him.”
Michael noticed that she was looking upwards as if in anguish. “Don’t you remember Jamie? He, I mean, I left you. You should be happy I’m dead,” he muttered.
She looked up at him as if noticing him for the first time and then burst into tears again. “I shall never be happy you’re dead,” she sobbed. “I still missed you even though you left me. Why did you have to go?”
He looked as if he couldn’t bear this for much longer. “Why?” she screamed. “Why!”
He looked at her and she saw a slight bit of feeling in his eyes before they became blank pools again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to leave you... I had to, Bradley was in trouble...”
There it was the name that Jamie had feared so much all these years. “Who was Bradley?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t you mean, who is Bradley?” he said darkly.
She gasped. “One lived and the other died. Darkness enfolding around those who choose it. My brother...” he cut short, he had said too much.
Jamie stopped crying. She was stronger than this. She didn’t just cry for anything. “Can you get rid of your body, please?” she asked.
He nodded curtly and strode to the door. He said, “I am going to leave it where the police will find it. I want a proper funeral.”
She managed something short of a smile as he dragged the corpse out of the room behind him.
She knew what the smell had been. Rot. The body had been beginning to rot. But that wasn’t the only thing in here rotting. On the floor packets of chips and chicken nuggets from McDonalds were thrown casually on the floor. She held her nose as she reached for the bin in the corner. It smelt like something had died in the bin. In fact something had. “Rats,” she said, disgusted.
She threw the packets of chips and all the rest of the rubbish into the bin and then chucked the bin outside. She looked at the room more clearly now. Stood in one corner near where the bin had been was a cleaning trolley. She grabbed the bin once more and threw it bin and all into the trolley bin-bag. She grinned as she grabbed a brush. She brushed up all the bits of chip and dried blood and then set to work with the cleaning spray.
By the time Michael got back the room smelled normal and it was a hell of a lot cleaner. Jamie had never liked cleaning things but she thought that if this room was going to be Michael’s home from now on... She pulled the two armchairs over to the centre of them concrete room beneath the light. She then pushed the trolley outside and was done. The room was quite warm for being made completely out of concrete and cement. Probably because of the moth-eaten blankets she had managed to look presentable that were now laid over her in a chair. Or maybe from the only light source right above her. Or maybe even because Michael was there but any way she put it, it was warm.
“So...” she said quietly.
“So, what?” Michael asked.
“What are you going to do next?”
“Well I’m a ghost aren’t I? Not a lot I can do!” he snapped.
“Sorry...” she murmured.
He grinned at her. “I know what I have to do next. Seeing as, I’ve been sent a task to do. Have you noticed you can only see me?”
“Obviously.”
“I mean, have you noticed you can’t see any other ghosts?”
“Erm... not really.”
“Well I’ve been sent here to teach you the art of ghost-reading. Or ghost-hearing or ghost-talking; as some wierdos call it. But it is mostly known as ghost-reading.”
“Okay, Michael. But we can’t start now.”
“Why not?” he asked, a frown now settling on his face.
“Because it’s now night-time and my mum will be wondering where I am.”
“Oh, meet me here tomorrow then. Anytime; I’m always free.”
Jamie grinned. She turned and strode to the door; her bag still hanging limply from her shoulder. She called over her shoulder, “I think I’ll bring some good air-freshener tomorrow. It’ll get rid of the smell of rot.”
She left the room hearing his laugh and began the journey home.