A Ghost Story
Normally, Finn didn’t break into buildings.
However, he was Noah Puckerman’s former best friend. As a rule he had done some breaking into buildings in his life.
William McKinley High was almost ridiculously easy to break into. It kind of shocked Finn. He would expect there would be better security for the school. Still he supposed Figgins cheapskate nature ran deep. Finn wouldn’t be surprised if the principal only upped security around the time of the suicides.
Still he wasn’t complaining. It made his life much easier.
After Finn had jimmied the lock for the service entrance door, he slipped through the hallways. It was well after midnight, but still the football player was quiet as he possibly could. He knew some of the teachers would crash in the school once in a blue moon. With his luck lately, he figured that this night would be the night that one of them was there.
After what felt like an eternity, Finn stopped in front of the room. His heart pounded wildly in his chest like a drum beat in a KISS song. Shakily he took out his meager lock picking tools. They weren’t even proper tools but varying objects that Finn had modified for this purpose. Puck never had the patience to learn how to lock pick, but Finn did. Several moments of jiggling the lock later, Finn heard the nearly silent ‘click’.
He slowly grasped the door handle and shut his eyes tight. Gathering up all of his courage, Finn opened the door and walked into the room. Finn’s nose wrinkled a little as the rotted smell invaded his senses. He pulled out his flashlight and turned it on, suddenly glad that he had one of those heavy duty camping lights.
He bent down to put a wedge in the door. He wasn’t sure how good that lock was. His heart still pounded and his hands felt a little sweaty.
It wasn’t fear that was driving him though. No Finn had been only scared a handful of times in his life. It was excitement almost like right before the roller coaster plummeted. He licked his dried, cracked lips slowly. He wondered if what he was going to do next was the sanest move.
“Hell-Hello?” inquired Finn softly, “Mister Schuester?”
The wind rushed outside. Finn jumped at the sound of the trees leaves shuffling.
“My name is Finn,” he said trying to ignore the wind, “Finn Hudson. Um…”
What do you say to a dead man? It was a question that Finn had to wonder often in his life. When he was younger, his mom would encourage him to talk to his dad’s ashes. Finn would sit and stare at the urn, while his mother puttered in the background. He could never bring himself to say anything to it. He didn’t even know where to begin.
Finn licked his lips and as his mind went back to his original question: What do you say to a dead man?
“Thank you,” blurted out Finn without thinking, “For stopping me from…killing myself.”
He rubbed his neck bashfully as he sat in front of a dusty desk. He sneezed and admitted that Miss Pillsbury was right; this room needed a really good cleaning.
“I mean, I realize now that I was being stupid,” here Finn snorted derisively, “Not that it has ever stopped me before, y’know, being stupid. It was just a moment of weakness. My grades are shit. I’m never going to get into a decent college or into college. And I was okay with that. Maybe I’m not book smart, but I’m good with my hands. I figured I could go to a trade school or something. And then…”
Finn sighed as he leaned back against the legs of the desk.
“Then I found out that my girlfriend is pregnant. And I believed the crap story that she spun for me. I wanted so desperately to believe her, believe the kid was mine. That turned out to be a load of bull. My best friend is the dad. All the girls in the fucking school that he could have fucked and he did it with my girlfriend. And they kept it a secret from me! How fair is that?”
Finn buried his face in his hands trying to quell the burning rage and overwhelming sorrow that threatened to overtake him.
“But I guess you don’t want to hear about that, Mister Schuester. My problems probably don’t mean much to a dead man...,” whispered Finn softly. He wondered if the ghost would show up.
Then he felt it.
It was like watching the Dementor scene in the Harry Potter movies except in real life. The temperature slowly decreased until the air around him felt frigid like right before the biggest snow fall of the year. Finn burrowed deeper into his black hoodie, searching for warmth. He watched fascinated as his breaths slowly came out in puffs before him. He glanced at the windows, wondering if an icy pattern would spread across them. It had rained earlier that evening, but the water droplets that clung to the windows stubbornly remaining unfrozen.
The flashlight started to flicker wildly; even though Finn had triple checked that the batteries were new. Finn left the flashlight on the floor. His hands slowly brought out a lighter that was a gift from Quinn for their anniversary. It was expensive, flashy, and made Finn feel really guilty that he didn’t get her anything nice at the time. But he never had a use for it…until now.
He quickly got the lighter lit. The mixture of the moonlight, the flickering flashlight, and the tiny flame barely lit the room. Still Finn could make out the form. In the darkness of the room, he was the only thing giving off light.
Finn’s eyes slowly traced the outline of the man. He was young, younger than Finn would have liked to thought. All the details that he hadn’t noticed the first two times in the room, Finn was taking notice of now. He was wearing jeans. His feet were bare.
Finn supposed the room of him hanging himself with his shoelaces was true. That or he wanted to be comfortable when he died. The white shirt was un-tucked; its tails peeking out from under the sweater vest.
Chocolate brown eyes snapped up to meet the sad grey.
Again, Finn licked his dry lips.
“Hi,” he whispered so quietly that he wondered if he said anything at all.
Slowly the ghost moved toward Finn, kneeling on the ground.
The coldness intensified. Finn could feel his skin prickled with goose bumps. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Every biological response was screaming at him to leave. However, his heart (which admittedly was bigger than his head and common sense) told him to stay.
Mister Schuester slowly reached a glowing, transparent hand out and stroked Finn’s cheek. The football player shuddered at the contact. It felt like he had jumped into a lake in the middle of winter at midnight.
“No one who sings like you,” began Mister Schuester in a delicate tone, “should know that kind of pain.”
“I’m not special,” protested Finn gently.
“Yes you are,” said Mister Schuester firmly. The wind howled outside the room as if echoing the sentiment.
“Mister Schue-” began Finn but the ghost had caught him off.
“My name is Will. Not much a teacher anymore.”
“Will,” said Finn. He shuddered violently, icy breaths making patterns on the air.
“You should go,” said Will, “Forget about this. Forget that you saw me. Go. Go before she captures you in this terrible web.”
And he disappeared as silently as he came.
Finn sat there in silence for a several moments. All sorts of thoughts ran through his head. There was only one certainty that Finn had: it was too late to turn back now.
As he left, quietly as he came in, Finn saw a flash of blonde hair and angry hazel eyes.
*
Will could have referred to a multitude of women with the utterance of ‘her’. In Finn’s mind, there was only one ‘her’: Terri Delmonico. He had the engagement notice and knew that something about her affected him deeply. Finn found himself back in the library the next day.
He found what he was looking for rather quickly.
Terri Delmonico had some similarities to Quinn in the fact she was a cheater. Apparently, she was having an affair with a married man: her sister’s husband to be exact. Her sister found the two of them in bed together.
The sister did not take it well: the double barrel shotgun blasts to the lovers’ heads confirmed that.
Finn could empathize with the feeling. Except he just wanted to beat Puck into a coma.
The sister killed herself before the trial began. Most people just chalked it up as a tragedy all around. It was another one of those terrible incidents that had housewives tutting in pity and men looking over their shoulders before they met their mistresses.
Will started teaching six months after the incident.
He killed himself two and a half years later.
Finn then noted as a sudden chill swept through him that he had done it on the anniversary of Terri’s death. He flicked through the notebook that he was using to detail all the information he had on this whole mess. The chill turned to decidedly colder when he realized all four girls died on the same day.
Finn wasn’t a smart guy, but even he knew this was too big of a coincidence.
He shut his notebook with a loud ‘snap’.
Terri was connected to the suicides in some way. Finn just wasn’t sure how yet.
*
Finn, shortly after deciding Terri played a part in the suicides, had come to the conclusion that he needed to talk to Will again. As much as he wanted to break into the school again, he knew that he couldn’t keep doing that forever. Finn has been proud of his nonexistent criminal record. He didn’t want to screw that up. So with a half formed and total bullshit excuse, Finn went to go talk Figgins into letting him work in the room.
Naturally, the school principal wasn’t receptive to the idea.
“Mister Hudson,” began Figgins slowly, “this is a bad idea on many, many levels. That room has become a symbol to the school…”
Finn, sensing his chance, interrupted the man, “Exactly!”
Figgins paused and looked at him. Finn’s cheeks colored slightly.
“That’s exactly right, sir. Miss Pillsbury said that room has become a symbol to the school. People are scared to go into the same hallway as the room. But Miss Pillsbury also said that perhaps it was the time that the room stopped being a symbol and…y’know started being a room again.”
Figgins nodded, “It is a novel idea, Mister Hudson. Continue.”
Finn, who never had a way with words, tried to figure out where to go next with his idea. Slowly he felt something icy trail up his back. He swallowed, hearing a soft voice hum in his ear.
Will was with him (or at least Finn hoped it was him).
Maybe it was like some sort of divine sign. Maybe he was having some sort of mental breakdown.
Or maybe Will ignored his own warning, and wanted Finn’s help.
Whatever was happening, Finn had found something buried within him to allow him to say what he said next.
“Look sir. Our school has been through hell and stuff. Every year, it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kids are terrified of that room. But maybe…if we clean it up and make it a room again then people will seeing that there’s nothing to be scared of. What do all those people who seen horrible things happen talk about? Regaining some sense of normalcy. If we just locked this room up and ignore it, then we’re becoming victims to what happened. So yeah…”
Figgins’ eyebrow went up, “You are very passionate about this, Mister Hudson.”
“I guess I am,” admitted Finn slowly.
“I just don’t see how I can hire a cleaning crew on the school’s budget. Janitors have quit over that room.”
“I’ll clean it, sir. I mean, even after all the drama in my life, I still have some respect from my fellow students. So maybe if I cleaned it…it would be a symbol or something.”
“You have obviously put a lot of thought into this, Mister Hudson,” said Figgins thoughtfully, “And I agree with you, wholeheartedly. I think it is time that we stopped putting so much weight on one room.”
Finn looked up shocked. He thought that this was going to end with him stealing someone’s keys and making a copy. Maybe his luck was starting to turn for the better.
“So…you’ll let me do it?”
“I am not an unreasonable man, Mister Hudson. The room will be your responsibility and you will have a key to it. Do not betray my trust,” said Figgins as he unhooked a key and slid it over to the football player.
“I won’t, sir! Thank you,” said Finn sincerely.
He stood with the key firmly clutched in his hand before leaving the room. He was glad that he waited until the end of the school before going to see Figgins. With a deep breath, Finn slowly walked to the room.
*
Finn held a bucket of janitorial supplies that he had swiped from the closet. He gently placed the bucket down and sneezed at the thick layer of dust that came up from it.
“Oh that sucks,” muttered Finn knowing this job felt entirely too much like the boring chores his mom had him do around the house. Still it had gotten him in the room, which was the main goal of this whole operation.
Deciding to let Will make the first contact, Finn pulled out an industrial strength polisher that would get the dust away and firmly pulled a mask over his nose and mouth. The odor still pierced through it: sharp and sickening like a punch to the gut. Damn Figgins and his cheap ass nature.
Finn set to work cleaning. Tackling several years worth of dust was proving to be as a big of a bitch as Finn had planned it to be. He was absorbed in his work that he didn’t notice the chill that swept over the room.
“I thought I told you to leave,” whispered a voice in his ear.
Finn spun around staring at the transparent man and into his sad gray eyes.
“I couldn’t leave you alone here,” said Finn nervously.
Will looked confused at Finn’s declaration.
“Why? You never knew me,” said the ghost softly.
Finn furrowed his brow before giving him a soft smile.
“Because no one deserves to be here alone and y’know sad. Mom always told me that…Death is supposed to be peaceful for the most part. You were a really awesome guy, Will. People were really sad when you died and you deserve that peace.”
“Do you know what they do to suicides?”
“See,” said Finn as he stared at the elder man, “I don’t believe it was a suicide.”
Will looked startled at that, “Of course it was. I killed myself.”
“Well…,” began Finn before trailing off, “I still don’t think that you did it willingly.”
Will glanced around before turning to him. His gray eyes were wide with something akin to fear.
“Finn,” whispered Will hurriedly, “I need you to think about this. If you go down this road there is only so much that I can protect you from. She could come after you. She’s…strong.”
“You’re stronger,” stated Finn as he licked his dry lips. He felt dizzy from the heady and clinical scent of the cleaning supplies, “You lure people here with your voice. Why those girls, Will?”
Will looked so lost and ashamed. A glimmering shimmer of light trailed down his cheek. Suprising Finn, he didn’t know that a ghost could cry. Will refused to meet his eyes as he whispered, “She likes an anniversary gift. Says I’m good for something at least since my voice has power. I don’t want to do this to them but I don’t know what will happen if I don’t. She could do something even worse.”
“No one died this year.”
“And that’s why I’m scared,” whispered Will with wide eyes, “I don’t know what she’ll do.”
“But if it’s you who called those girls…then that means you could have more power.”
Will shook his head sadly, “She…she’ll torment you. Haunt you. Make you scared of your own mind. You’ll wake up screaming nights and she’ll laugh in your ear. You’ll see things out of the corner of your eye, and you won’t be certain if they’re real or not. You’ll be scared of yourself, of your mind because you don’t know if you’re cracking or not.”
“But she cheated on you,” said Finn desperately, “You didn’t have to kill yourself.”
“I know,” answered Will sadly another glittering trail on his face, “But she made certain that I couldn’t live without her.”
Finn looked at Will with a dawning realization and a sickening feeling in his gut. All those things Will said that she would do, he knew because it was what he went through.
“I’m trapped here,” said Will with a harsh swallow, “She makes sure that I can’t leave her.”
Finn stared at the ghost. He wondered what force kept drawing him back to this spirit before him. Slowly he placed his lips over the shimmering, frigid air where Will’s forehead was. The spirit unconsciously leaned into the contact. Finn felt like he was dropped into a bathtub full of ice cubes. Still he stood there, offering any comfort that he could.
“I may be a dumb kid,” spoke Finn suddenly as he kneeled on the dusty floor before the spirit, “I’m not the smartest person in the world. I don’t do well in school. And I’ve been deserted by most people because they’ve been sympathetic to my girlfriend after our break up. Something about you, about this keeps drawing me back. Maybe I do have some sort of greater purpose in life, some sort of fate or some shit like that. I…I promise that I will free you, Will.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” murmured Will looking at him with those beautifully tormented eyes.
“I think I do,” said Finn as a strange half-smile overtook his face, “After all. No one who sings like you do deserves to be trapped here.”
Will looked up at Finn from under his eyelashes. Sad gray eyes seemed to burn through his soul before a spark of something jumped through them: the barest hint of relief and hope. His lips twitched into a strange Mona Lisa smile, like Will wasn’t sure how to smile anymore.
“Alright, Finn,” rasped Will gently, “Be careful. She’s strong.”
“Maybe you should believe that you’re stronger,” whispered Finn gently.
Neither said anything until Will faded into the fiery oranges and reds of the twilight. Finn sat there for a time after, trying to suppress the sick feeling in his gut and the feeling that he was being watched.
Part Three