His mother died eighteen years ago. Murdered by his father. He knew, because for the last eighteen years, she had pestered the hell out of him.

Where are they? He bounced around his room, screaming in rage. Mother drifted in and out of his vision; she tried so hard to get his attention. Waves of cold washed over him as she drew nearer; it was always so cold around the dead. She seemed to glow in the dim light. “Where are my meds,” he yelled. He tried to pick up the chair, but like the rest of his furniture, bolts secured it to the floor. He kicked at it and fell.

“Leave me alone. The other’s leave me alone, why can’t you?” He used the chair to pull himself erect. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” He waved his hands wildly at other ghosts, who floated through the room. They looked at him, hopefully, but he ignored them. They looked dejected as they drifted around, even the newest one, a girl murdered a few weeks before. She glanced at him, looking away, when he glared at her. Her short red hair almost matched the color for the blood that continuously poured from her throat.

His mother swirled around him, her toungue protruding the way it had when his father strangled her. He knew the details; she had told him so many times that he could recite it better than the Pledge of Allegiance. When she abandoned him at the Toquerville Asylum, on his seventh birthday, she had reconciled with his father. She’d gotten pregnant, and her father feared that they would have another ‘insane’ son. He killed her one night, when she refused to get an abortion. “Don’t need another nutter,” he’d said.

Jacob didn’t remember his father, just that one remark. He glared at his mom. Why couldn’t you have stayed with me, instead? Maybe I wouldn’tbe in a nut house, and you wouldn’t be dead. “Well?”

“You know why, Jacob. You know what I want.” She stopped in front of him and he waved his hands through her. He knew it irritated her. “I want you to understand. I want to know that you understand.” She circled him, coming close enough that he could see the pores in her ghostly skin. “I want you to forgive me.”

I understand. He straightened his covers, though his bed would make a GI jealous. “You left me for your murderer, left me ‘cause I wasn’t worth that much to you.”

Her appearance solidified, so that he almost couldn’t see the grimy wall behind her. “I was young, and I didn’t understand what was happening with you.”

“So that made it okay to abandon me. You know they hooked wires up to my head and shocked me?” He straightened his hospital gown.

She faded again, as if his pain drove her away. He closed his eyes and calmed himself down. She drifted to his left, turned partially away from him. “No, it was wrong to leave. I know that now, but then, I thought I needed your father.”

I hate doing this to you, Mother. “I can’t forgive you. I’m sorry.” He crossed his thin arms and hoped the meds would come soon.

She came close, and so did the wave of cold. She tried to look into his eyes, but he shut them. “Please, Jacob. I love you, and I hate myself for what happened to you.”

“Where’s my drugs,” he yelled. He pounded on the door, grabbed the handle and shook it. He pressed his ear against the door and was relieved to hear footsteps. “Finally,” he muttered, as the rattling of the food and med carts stopped outside his door.

He hopped away from the door and waited. His legs pushed back against the bed, but it didn’t budge. He turned the volume up on his clock radio and made sure it still played static. He liked it stuck between stations, liked the soothing sound of white noise. It helped him ignore the dead. He centered it atop the industrial gray stand that served him as a nightstand.

A key squeaked in the lock. He watched the handle turn, poised on his toes like a praying mantis waiting for dinner. Two orderlies, both large and well muscled, came in. He had never seen the large black man before. Jacob eyed them, not uttering a word, even when the new guy tried to say hello.

“What’s with him,” the newcomer asked. He stood six-two and looked like a linebacker. His white shirt and pants contrasted with his skin.

Jacob didn’t like the way he looked at him. He didn’t like the cologne the newcomer wore, either. It stunk, and he wore too much. “This one stinks.”

“Leave him alone,” Mother said. “He’s not a bad person.”

“What did you say, runt?” The newcomer glared at him, having only heard Jacob’s comment. “We could strap you down and let you think about your manners.”

“Please, not again. I hate seeing them be cruel to you.” His mother swirled between him and the new man.

Jacob laughed, if you could call the horrible sound laughter. It sounded like a cross between a hyena cackle and a death rattle. “Don’t worry Mother; he can’t hurt me worse than you did.” He glanced at her, saw pain flickering in her eyes, and felt guilty. Yet he didn’t dare be nice to her. “You stink,” he said, in a louder voice. He stared into the white abyss of the black man’s eyes and hoped his mother would be distracted from her own pain by his defiance. They both knew it could get him beaten.

“Just watch him.” Williams stepped closer and handed Jacob a paper cup full of pills. “He’s the easiest one on the floor.”

“He’s a little dickhead.” Jacob stretched as the newcomer sized him up. At five-four, one-hundred-and –thirty pounds, he knew he didn’t look like much. The newcomer saw the scars that showed through his buzzed, brown hair, noticed the pallor of his skin, and Jacob wondered what he thought.

“Jacob, please.” His mother circled him. “Don’t taunt him.” She tried to stop the new man as he strode forward, but he walked right through her.

“Little shit needs to be taught manners.” He glared down at Jacob, his yellowed teeth showing as he snarled. “Maybe he wouldn’t be such a shit.”

“He’s alright, Andrews,” Williams said. “Leave him alone.” He towered over Jacob, at six-six, and though he only had four inches on Andrews, he new how to intimidate from a decade in the NFL.

Andrews backed up a step, but his right hand slapped Jacob and sent him sprawling. He hopped away from Williams, laughing.

Oh shit, where are they. Jacob crawled around the floor, looking for his pills. He ignored the pain that cut its way through his cheek like a power saw, desperate for the relief they brought. He couldn’t face his guilt without them.

Williams found them and handed them to him. He gulped them down. “I could report you for that, get you fired. He’s nutty, but he ain’t even talkin’ to you.” He lifted Jacob to his feet like a kid with a stuffed animal. “He don’t mean any harm, just tells his mom what he thinks.”

“Tells his mom?” Andrews snorted. “He some kinda psychic, or just psycho?” He laughed at his little joke. “Can he read my mind?”

“I don’t read minds. She’s here with me. She came here after she died.”

Andrews laughed again. “You definitely came to the right place, runt.” He turned his back on Jacob. Williams stepped between them and turned Andrews around.
“Just leave him alone.” Williams stepped away. “Got that?”

“Sure, sure, but this is your last day.” Andrews’ eyes wandered over the peeling, pale blue paint, across the battered flourescent light fixture, and down to the white linoleum tile floor, before returning to Jacob. Jacob stared at the floor.

Williams is leaving? He’s the only one that has ever been nice to me. He hoped his meds would kick in soon. He shuffled sideways, and sat on his bed, near the nightstand. His hands shook as he straightened the clock radio.

Williams stepped out of the door, popping back in like a girl on the rebound. He placed a plastic tray on Jacob’s table. There was no plate, no cutlery, nothing but a Styrofoam cup of milk. The food sat on the tray, all finger foods, nothing he could use to hurt himself. When he was ten, he used to cut himself, using the pain as a distraction. They took that from him. All he had left were his pills.

“Jacob, won’t you ever learn to shut up?” He heard her stammer, but he ignored her. He had a new distraction, a new focus. One more thing to help him ignore her, like his meds, or the numbers on his clock, or the static. A new source of pain.

Andrews stared at Jacob as if daring him to do something. He continued to watch his clock, but gave him the finger. He cringed as Andrews charged, but no attack came. He looked up to see Williams pushing Andrews’ face into the floor, his forearm pressed into the black man’s throat.

“Leave him alone. I know he can be an ass, but he’s never been anywhere else. This is all he knows.” Jacob hoped he didn’t scare the newcomer too much. He welcomed the idea of a new distraction. “I will come back and visit, and if he says anything, I’ll turn your dumbass in. Got it?”

The two left, and he heard the door lock squealing.

He stared at the clock. “Seven. Seven turns to eight.” The seven in 10:37, changed to an eight. He waited for his medication to take effect and block out his mother. She hovered over him, coddling him with her voice. He could almost feel her hands on his burning cheek, but for once the cold that surrounded her felt good. Although he didn’t respond to her ministrations, he never wanted her to stop.

Eight changed to nine. He heard the key turn in the lock. He focused on the clock, knowing who padded through the door. He knew what was about to come. Nine changes to ten.

The first blow knocked him into the wall and he rebounded into the second. It seemed like the blows rained down for an eternity, like a downpour of fists rather than rain. Fire coursed through his body and he finally lost consciousness.

Jacob woke to find himself alone, at least when it came to the living. He could feel dried blood on his cheek and in his nostrils. Though the beating was over, waves of pain still washed over him like soothing blanket. He could barely hear his mother and knew his meds were also kicking in.

“Oh Jacob, please forgive me. It’s my fault. If I’d stayed. . .” She sobbed as she ran her ghostly hands over him. The cold felt good and so did the attention.

“Shut up, Mother,” he said. “I’ll never forgive you. Ever.” He didn’t tell her why. He couldn’t; she didn’t know. If I forgive you, you’ll be free to move on, to leave this world behind. To leave me, again. If I forgive you, I lose you all over. Guilt ate at him like piranas in a feeding frenzy, but he gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t say it aloud. I love you, Mother. I forgive you.

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