It took me a long to come to terms with Karen’s death. She was my best friend since I was able to say my first words. Everywhere I went it reminded me of her, but nothing cared to the guilt I was feeling. It was weird entering my English class to find an empty seat beside me. I always expected her to be there, sitting down with her books open and warm smile and a wave as soon as I walked through the door. After the accident nobody was there. The seat was just empty. As my eyes wondered the classroom, I could see that everyone was established in their groups, weather it was discussing last night’s episode of “friends” or last nights football match between Coventry and Bolton. I however was on my own rearranging my pencil tin so it looked as though I was doing something but deep down I wanted my best friend Karen back.
After the accident, I went through a great deal from giving the silent treatment to being a rebellious teenager who received suspension from school. Everyone was saying I was “not myself”. How could I be? Without the only person who understood me.
On the first year anniversary of Karen’s death, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about Christmas and the weather didn’t help me either. I never even dressed myself. It wasn’t the same anymore; I just stayed in my room all day, refusing to go downstairs even to eat. Then something happened, the atmosphere felt strange and almost awkward. I could sense this feeling but I made nothing of it. Instead, I sobbed in my bed as I looked through the photos of Karen and me.
Then, all of a sudden I felt cold rush which scattered all over my bed. I stopped my sobbing but I began sniffing. My windows were shut tight. I listened very carefully but all I could hear was the rain pattering against the window. “Mum? Mum is that you?” there was no answer. “Mum?” That was strange I thought. Could it be that my mum never heard me or was it my sister playing tricks? Then I began to hear a faint, peculiar laugh which sounded familiar but as it became louder – I recognised the laugh, it was Karen’s laugh. Was it Karen, or was I just imagining it because I’m thinking of her, I thought. Then my hi-fi system started to play music – I looked for the remote control. Beside me to see if I had accidentally pressed any buttons but it was on my window sill. The song began to progress and I recognised it – it was the song playing on my CD walkman on the day of the accident. It couldn’t have been on the radio as it was switched onto the CD button but it couldn’t be playing on CD, I disposed of it and I haven’t listened to it since the accident. That was unusual but then I grasped what was going on as I began to realise the pattern and I began to take deep, uneasy breaths. The music kept repeating the same song and then I felt tears running down my face. I ran to the door to try to open it but it didn’t seem to open and I kept thumping the door so hard with my hands, they began to hurt. I fell to my bed, where my English book was open, it was open to the last piece of work I did with Karen. It was about “ghost stories” and it was where Karen and I had signed our names. I began to cry hysterically, I knew – I just knew then that it was her, it was Karen. “Karen! Karen!” I screamed – I couldn’t believe what was happening, I began to feel very dizzy. “Karen? Karen are you there?” I screamed. Just at that moment everything seemed as if it was the same before. The door opened, and I hesitated and began crying hysterically again. It was my mum; she ran to my side and hugged me.
“Karen’s not here any more, I know u probably think she is, but she isn’t” she said gently.
“But ……..but” I said stuttering and still recovering from the shock. “I’m saying you should forget her, you can’t possibly do that, but just move on” she said.
To this day, I haven’t told anyone and it still makes me shiver at the thought of it. I definitely know that it was Karen but what I don’t know is whether what she did was out of love, or out of hate…….. I guess ill never know, I’ll never know how she felt about me after the accident. I never believed in ghosts before, I thought it was just a myth but now I’m the strongest believer I know.