Disappearing highway writing 1
i hope yall like this writing :-)
CW : mentions of death, blood, drug usage (weed)
Taylor and Chris pulled into the small parking lot, where the faded paint lines were barely visible against the cracked asphalt. She sighed and glanced at the clock on her dashboard.
“Maybe 6:00 a.m. is too early,” Taylor muttered anxiously, biting her nails. The early morning fog covered the area, enveloping everything in darkness. The scattered leaves on the ground were covered in the morning dew.
“Are you sure this is the right place, Chris? Because I swear if it’s not and I have to knock-“
“Yeah no Taylor don’t worry this is probably like definitely it man” Chris looked out the window of the car. He wasn’t looking at anything.
“Wha- why are you talking like that? Are you nervous?” Taylor said bluntly. Chris shifted in his seat but didn’t turn around. “I mean a little bit but like that’s normal, you know what I mean.” He turned around to look at her. “What if he doesn’t believe you, you know?”
Taylor stared at him in silence, Chris was equally quiet. His eyes were completely blank.
“Well…” Taylor turned to the apartment. “Uhm… I didn’t think that far ahead…” She turned back to Chris, he looked worried. “Well, too late now!” He passed through the car. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Okay, I'm coming. But let's set some ground rules okay?” Chris looked at her listening intently.
“First, no possession. You know you have a hard time controlling it, and it's painful in general. Second, don't mess with the lights or anything. Third, conserve your energy. We don't want that to happen again. Understand? Good.”
“Got it.” Chris said with a smile. Taylor would look back down at the phonebook clipping.
South Greenwood apartment complex.
Taylor looked at the apartment, it was small and couldn't have had more than 100 rooms. It looked old and dingy. The stairs were rusted in places and looked like it could break if more than 10 people were on it.
“This feels more like a motel than an apartment…” Taylor mumbled to herself, shoving the paper back into her pocket. Watching the steps closely to make sure she didn't trip. Taylor took a deep breath.
Room 60. Rodney Steven. God this better be the right room number I had to ask around for this dumb thing.
Knock Knock Knock
There was no response.
“Is he not home?” Chris said, leaning his head through the door.
“Chris!” Taylor reached out to grab his arm, but her hand passed right through it.
“Okay okay sorry!” He said backing back out and putting his hands up.
“...Hello…?”A quiet voice spoke up from the other side of the door. “Who is this?”
“Uh- This is Taylor I need to ask you a few questions. Do- I mean- shit, did you know a Chris?”
The door opened slightly, revealing a man in his early twenties of average height. He was wearing square glasses and had brown eyes, with long, curly ginger hair that went down to his shoulders. He was wearing a sublime t-shirt with basketball shorts and appeared as though he had just woken up. His apartment looked like a mess, it also reeked of weed. Taylor recoiled from the smell.
“Kid, there are a bunch of Chris’s here I need a last name…” He said rubbing his eyes.
Taylor was taken aback. She never knew Chris’s last name or his real name for that matter. That was just a name that he came up with. Taylor itched the back of her head beginning to sweat. “I don't know his last name… uhhh… You two dated back in high school?”
Rodney's eyes widened in disbelief as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, feeling the awkwardness of the moment. "I still don't know who you're talking about," he said, his voice shaky, failing to conceal the surprise that remained on his face.
Taylor stared at him momentarily, questioning if she should just be honest. “Listen I know this sounds insane but there is this ghost attached to me and in some type of vision type thing, and he remembers you of all people so just please help us.”
Rodney choked and spluttered, “What… what are you talking about?!” His voice cracked as he coughed. “It’s too early for this damn shit… What are you talking about?” His eyes were wide, filled with confusion.
Taylor begged. “Please, please just give me a minute! I promise I can prove it, you’re Rodney Stevens right?” Taylor exclaimed, pointing at his face.
Rodney stared at her, completely bewildered. He looked away, mumbling something under his breath, and shook his head. “Okay. fine.” He moved Taylor's finger out of his face. “You got 5 minutes max to prove this “ghost shit” is real, I got work in 30. He crossed his arms and pushed the door open. Taylor walked inside seeing the true extent of the clutter. Every light but the oven hood was off. She could hear the soft mumble of the morning news.
“Where can I sit?” Taylor glanced over at Rodney, who was busy attempting to make some space. “Uhm,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The table is fine I guess… So like… Are we gonna summon something or like what?”
“What? No, I'm just going to talk for him,” Taylor said, moving the empty take-out boxes off the chair to make some space. Rodney lit a joint, and she glared at him, rolling her eyes.
“So, like,” he said, taking a long drag from the joint and exhaling a cloud of smoke. “If he is like a ghost why can't he just possess you and stuff? That would prove it right?” Rodney said, turning on the light above the table and sitting down. Taylor rolled her eyes. “Because it hurts like hell, it feels like being electrocuted.” She leaned back in her chair. “Plus, Chris is such an idiot he can't even do anything” She muttered. “Ugh, where even is he?” She realized she hadn't seen him since she walked in. “Chris?”
“I can’t see anything in this stupid pitch-black room…” Taylor said, squinting her eyes.
“I’m right behind you Taylor.” Chris stood over her grinning, Taylor let out a yelp.
“This chick is a fucking freak man,” Rodney said under his breath taking another hit. Taylor scoffed at him.
“You know I can hear you.”
“Yeah, I know…” he said, putting his feet up on the table and exhaling smoke.
Taylor bit her lip. What a fucking dick… She pulled out her pocket notebook. “Okay,” taking a deep breath. Flipping to a certain page, she looked up at Rodney. “So, how do you know Chris? How did you two meet?”
Rodney took his feet off the table, leaned forward, and squinted his eyes at her. “Oh, I already told you I have no clue who you're talking about. Maybe you could describe him for me? That might jog my memory,” he said sarcastically, taking another long drag of his joint.
Taylor glared at him, her anger noticeable. Then she looked over at Chris, who met her gaze with a sorrowful expression. “I’m sorry I don’t know why he’s such an asshole,” he whispered, offering an apologetic smile.
Taylor sighed. “Well… He has brown hair, He’s white, and uhh wears a beanie all the time and has a blue jacket.”
Rodney's eyes widened as he tried to breathe in, He started to choke. With every cough, smoke came out of his lungs, and his eyes began to water. He rubbed his throat, wiping his eyes with a shaky hand. “What—what did you say? Can you repeat that?” He asked, his voice hoarse.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “White with a brown mullet and a beanie. He’s wearing a dark gray shirt with a darkish blue parka and some jeans.”
Rodney's face was etched with disbelief, and he remained silent. It was clear he was hiding something.
Taylor leaned in her eyes wide and listening. “Does that ring a bell?”
“I—I don’t know…” Rodney said, barely above a whisper. He looked away, staring at the wall and mumbling to himself while rubbing his arm, lost in thought. Turning back to her with a scared expression, he asked, “Do you mean CJ…?”
Taylor squinted at him, then glanced over at Chris, who was leaning in with his head resting on his hands.
“Tell me about CJ. What was he like? How did you two meet, and what kind of relationship did you have? Also, do you know anything about how he died?” Taylor asked, preparing to write down whatever Rodney had to say.
“Well…I think we became friends in high school or something…” He said taking another hit. Taylor realized that half of the joint was already burned off.
He's almost done with the damn thing?!
“We kinda liked the same things and had the same classes n’ stuff… We hung out all the time and smoked while listening to music. He eventually confessed and we hit it off but we had to hide it from everyone, even our parents.” Instead of the happiness that comes from reliving memories, his eyes were filled with disappointment and regret. “He wanted to tell people. He was always so dense. I mean that could ruin our lives. This was 91! He was always so hopeful, that’s what I liked about him.” Rodney smiled. He had tears forming in his eyes.
“Eventually… He started getting really paranoid, which was weird for him. He said he was being stalked. I didn’t believe him, I- I thought it was just paranoia or anxiety, some shit like that.” He took another hit. “He always struggled with that stuff.” He let out a sigh, “I wish I could have done something more to protect him. I wish I would have listened to him.” He continued, his voice beginning to break with tears running down his cheek. “I wish I never told him to come over that night. CJ’s death is all my fault.” Taylor looked up from her notes. Rodney sat there, silently sobbing, his shoulders trembling as tears streamed down his face. She glanced at Chris who looked completely defeated, His face was etched with a deep sadness, and his eyes, dull and lifeless,
Rodney continued, his head still in his hands, his words muffled by his tears. “I was so afraid of everyone finding out I didn’t even go looking for him. I didn’t help at all. They never found his body…” He began mumbling to himself again, wrapping his arms around his body and rubbing his upper arms. Tears streamed down his face as his sobs intensified. His hands tensed up, and his fingers dug into his skin, leaving imprints where his nails pressed deeply into his arms. The light above the table began to flicker, Rodney glanced up at the flickering bulb, confused and sniffled, before turning his gaze back to Taylor. His face was wet with tears and snot. He sniffled. "You should go. I have to get ready," he said, standing up and wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Oh, uh, okay. Thank you for having me,” Taylor replied, rising from her seat and pushing her chair in with a soft scrape. “Come on, Chris.” But Chris remained motionless, lost in thought. “Oh, come on Chris, we need to go!” she urged, her impatience growing. He stood up quietly, looking away and not meeting any of their eyes. Taylor turned to face Rodney outside the doorway.
“Thank you again for listening, sir,” Taylor said with a forced smile. Rodney slammed the door in their faces, The suddenness left them both breathless, Jeez… Taylor and Chris walked back to the car in silence. She started the engine, and after a moment, asked, “Soooo… Did you get your answers, Chris?”
He didn’t respond.
“Chris? You alive in there man?” Still no answer.
I guess I'll start driving home.
“Why didn’t he look for me…” Chris muttered, barely above a whisper.
“What did you say?” Taylor replied, keeping her eyes on the road.
“He said he didn’t come looking for me… why? He said he loved me, but he didn’t even care to look for me.” Chris turned to Taylor, bloody tears streaming down his face.
“Oh my god! You’re crying blood! Are you okay?!” Taylor exclaimed. Chris touched his face, staring at the blood that now coated his fingertips.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, leaning back into his chair. his voice was devoid of emotion, looking utterly vacant.
“Is that what happens when you cry?” Taylor asked, a mix of intrigue and worry in her voice.
“I guess…” Chris mumbled, tears still streaming down his face.
“You’re always full of surprises, I swear,” Taylor said, glancing at Chris, but her words were met only with the steady hum of the engine. The silence stretched between them.
“Do you want to go pick up Ivy? She’s only four minutes away from here,” she suggested, hoping to steer the conversation in a lighter direction.
Still, there was no response from Chris.
“Okay,” Taylor said quietly, leaning back into her seat.
“I’m sorry,” Chris finally sniffled, straightening up. “Yeah, we can pick up Ivy.” He turned his head to look out the window, the scenery blurring past him, His expression was distant as he struggled with his thoughts.
"I'm sorry things didn't go as planned," Taylor said softly, "I'll do my best to make it up to you, I promise."
“Thanks…” Chris replied, wiping the tears from his face, his voice still shaky.
The car ride home was silent, interrupted only by the soft hum of the engine, each moment heavy with unspoken thoughts.
