I woke up the next morning and immediately regretted being alive.
Not in a deep, emotional way.
In a very simple, very practical way.
Because he was still there.
Sitting on the chair beside my bed.
Staring at me.
Not blinking.
Just…watching.
I closed my eyes again.
Nope.
I refused.
If I go back to sleep, maybe he'll disappear.
Maybe this is just stress.
Maybe I finally lost my mind and my brain is being dramatic.
"Going back to sleep won't make me leave."
I opened my eyes slowly.
He was still there.
Of course he was still there.
"…good morning," he said.
I sat up.
Pulled my blanket around me like it could protect me.
"…why are you watching me sleep?"
"I was observing."
"That's creepy."
"You stopped breathing for a few seconds."
"I was sleeping!"
"It was concerning."
"It was normal!"
"You looked dead."
"THANK YOU???"
He tilted his head.
"You're loud in the morning."
"You're in my room!"
"You allowed it."
"I did NOT allow it!"
"You did not stop me."
"I was unconscious!"
"That sounds like a you problem."
"…I'm going back to sleep."
"You won't."
"I will."
"You have school."
I froze.
"…don't remind me."
"You should get up."
"I don't want to."
"You will be late."
"I don't care."
"I care."
"Why do you care??"
He stood up.
Walked closer.
Of course he did.
He always did.
"Because you're mine."
I stared at him.
"…we need to talk about that sentence."
"No, we don't."
"Yes, we do!"
"It's accurate."
"It's not!"
"It is."
"I don't belong to anyone!"
"You belong to me."
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes."
I grabbed my pillow and threw it at him.
It went through him.
Hit the wall.
Fell down.
I stared at the pillow.
"…I hate this."
"You tried."
"I hate that more."
—
Getting ready for school was stressful.
Not because of school.
Because of him.
I brushed my teeth.
He stood beside me.
Watching.
"Do you have to stand that close?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I want to."
"That's not a reason."
"It is for me."
"…move."
"No."
I turned slightly.
He moved closer.
"STOP FOLLOWING MY FACE."
"I am not following your face."
"You are literally adjusting your position to stay close to my face!"
"I like your face."
"…I'm spitting toothpaste on you."
"It won't affect me."
"…I'm still doing it."
"You can try."
I spat aggressively.
It passed through him.
Of course it did.
He looked disappointed.
"That was underwhelming."
"I tried my best."
"You can do better."
"WHY ARE YOU ENCOURAGING ME???"
—
I got dressed.
He watched.
I paused.
"…turn around."
"No."
"TURN AROUND."
"No."
"WHY??"
"I want to see."
"SEE WHAT??"
"You getting dressed."
"THAT IS NOT NORMAL!"
"It is interesting."
"IT IS NOT INTERESTING!"
"You have a weak body."
"…what did you just say?"
"You are physically unimpressive."
"…I'm kicking you out."
"You can't."
"I'LL TRY."
"You'll fail."
"…stop insulting me!"
"I'm observing."
"You're judging!"
"It's accurate."
I grabbed my shirt.
"Turn around or I'm not moving."
He looked at me.
Then slowly—
Very slowly—
turned around.
"…thank you."
"You're welcome."
"…why do I feel like you're still watching?"
"I can still sense you."
"THAT'S WORSE!"
—
I left the house.
He followed.
Again.
Of course.
At this point, I wasn't even surprised.
I was just tired.
"Do you ever get tired?" I asked.
"No."
"Lucky you."
"I don't need sleep."
"I hate you."
"You don't."
"I do."
"You don't."
"I DO."
"You don't."
"…I'm going to ignore you now."
"That won't last."
"It will."
"It won't."
"I'm starting now."
"Alright."
Silence.
Peace.
Finally.
I smiled.
This was nice.
This was—
"You're smiling."
I froze.
"…you lasted five seconds."
"That's longer than I expected."
"I hate you."
"You don't."
"STOP SAYING THAT."
—
School was worse today.
Because now I knew.
I knew the things were real.
And they were everywhere.
One was sitting on a locker.
Another was following a student.
Something was literally crawling on the ceiling again.
I walked faster.
"Why are you ignoring them?" he asked.
"Because if I acknowledge them, I will panic."
"They won't hurt you."
"How do you know??"
"They are weak."
"And you're not??"
"No."
"That's not comforting."
"They won't touch you while I'm here."
I paused.
"…why?"
"They're scared of me."
I slowly turned to look at him.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"…good."
He looked slightly surprised.
"You're not questioning it?"
"I am choosing peace."
"That's smart."
"I'm surviving."
—
I got to class.
Sat down.
Tried to act normal.
Keyword: tried.
He stood behind me again.
Of course he did.
"Sit somewhere else," I whispered.
"No."
"Why do you always stand behind me??"
"I like this position."
"That sounds threatening."
"It should."
"…you're not helping."
A classmate leaned over.
"Who are you talking to?"
"No one."
"You're whispering again."
"I like whispering."
"…you're weird."
"I know."
He leaned closer to me.
The entity.
Not the classmate.
"You should stop talking to others," he said.
"…what?"
"They distract you."
"They're my classmates!"
"I don't like them."
"You don't know them!"
"I don't need to."
"…why are you like this?"
"I told you."
"You didn't explain anything!"
"I don't have to."
"This is not fair!"
"Life isn't fair."
"You're not life!"
"I'm part of yours."
"…I hate how confident you are."
"I know."
—
Lunch was chaos.
I sat down.
Opened my food.
He sat across from me.
Staring.
Again.
"Can you stop staring?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I'm curious."
"About what??"
"What humans eat."
"It's rice."
"…that's disappointing."
"EXCUSE ME??"
"It looks boring."
"It's food!"
"It lacks complexity."
"You lack manners!"
"I'm learning."
"You're failing!"
He leaned forward.
"Feed me."
I choked.
"…what?"
"Feed me."
"You don't eat!"
"Try."
"I'm not feeding you!"
"Try."
"…this is insane."
"Try."
I picked up a spoon.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Held it up to his mouth.
He leaned forward.
The spoon passed through him.
Of course it did.
He paused.
Then leaned back.
"…disappointing."
"I TOLD YOU!"
"I expected more."
"FROM WHAT??"
"You."
"I AM HUMAN!"
"That's your limitation."
"…I'm done."
—
After school, I walked home again.
Slower this time.
Because honestly, what's the rush?
My problem is already waiting at home.
"Do you have a name?" I asked.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
He looked at me.
Then smiled slightly.
"You can call me anything."
"That's not helpful."
"Choose one."
"…I'm not naming you."
"Why not?"
"Because you're temporary."
He stopped walking.
"…temporary?"
"Yes."
"You think I'll leave?"
"Yes."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I won't."
"…we'll see."
He smiled again.
That same smile.
I didn't like that smile.
"Pick a name," he said.
"…no."
"Pick one."
"No."
"Pick one."
"…you're annoying."
"You noticed."
"…fine."
I thought for a second.
Looked at his red eyes.
His face.
His expression.
"…I'll call you 'Problem.'"
He paused.
"…Problem?"
"Yes."
"That's your name now."
"…I don't dislike it."
"Good."
"Because I'm not changing it."
"I won't allow it."
"You don't get a say!"
"I do."
"You don't!"
"I do."
"…I regret this already."
—
We got home.
Again.
He walked in.
Again.
Like he owned the place.
Again.
I dropped my bag.
Collapsed on the chair.
"This is my life now," I said.
"Yes."
"I hate it."
"You don't."
"I DO."
"You don't."
"STOP."
He sat beside me.
Close.
Too close.
Always too close.
"You'll get used to me," he said.
"I don't want to."
"You will."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I won't."
"We'll see."
"…I hate that sentence."
"I like it."
"Of course you do."
He leaned slightly closer.
"Say my name."
"…no."
"Say it."
"No."
"Say it."
"…Problem."
He smiled.
Satisfied.
"…good."
"…why did that feel like I made a mistake?"
"You did."
"…great."
He looked at me.
Quiet for a moment.
Then said—
"You'll call me that for a long time."
"…that sounds like another threat."
"It's not."
"It really sounds like one."
"It's a fact."
"…you're scary."
"You'll get used to it."
"…I don't want to."
"You don't have a choice."
I sighed.
Again.
For the hundredth time today.
"…fine."
He smiled.
Again.
And I realized something.
This wasn't temporary.
This wasn't going away.
This wasn't a phase.
This was permanent.
And somehow—
That was the most terrifying part.
—
I didn't just gain the ability to see things.
I gained something worse.
A roommate I didn't ask for.
A problem I can't solve.
And a voice that won't stop talking.
And honestly?
The ghosts at school…
Are still less annoying than him.