THE MAFIA LORD

Ghost Next Door.

The Past

July 2018

Hinsdale, Illinois.

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Drake had been was sitting on a stool in his kitchen when he heard the loud squash of plates breaking.

Fear so deadly gripped him as he jumped to his feet. The moment he discovered that the noise was coming from the next door, he could feel the hair at the back of his head stand.

This was strange for that house had long abandoned after the mysterious death of its last occupant.

Why then would noise be coming from an empty house? Were the ghosts of the dead couple parading around the house? The mere thought of it made him shiver.

Moving to his window to take a peep even after the noise had quietened down, he saw a shadow of a person and dread consumed his entire being.

Balling his hands into a fist, he couldn't decide which was better: confronting whosoever it was or running up the stairs and shutting his door — perhaps, the ghost or anything wouldn't come for him if he didn't make his presence known.

He shook his head, concluding that was a bad idea. What if he was attacked in the middle of the night? That would be so much worst.

Taking the bull by the horn, he decided to confront whatsoever it was, so he picked the long pestle by the side of the wall which he had long kept for security — though he had never experienced any attack in the past.

The noise began again — much louder this time — and terror filled Drake to the brim as he stepped out of his house. It was times like this he wished he had neighbours around him; then, he wouldn't have to face this alone.

The cool evening breeze hit him like a rod and he shivered as he was in nothing but a singlet. Ignoring the cold, he found his way to the next house after his.

The noise was coming from the backyard and Drake contemplated if he should head straight for the back or take the front door.

As he stood in front of the building, the iron black door opened, creaking loudly due to its rust and the figure of a person came into view.

This unexpected action caused Drake's legs to wobble and he fell on his butt to the ground; his lithe figure falling in an undignified fashion. Scared, he covered his eyes, yelling at the top of his voice.

"Please, don't kill me!"

He kept screaming and when he heard nothing, he slowly opened his eyes to meet a very irate lady standing by the door with a bowl of broken dishes.

Drake stumbled to his feet and took some steps backwards; his eyes fixated on the lady. She looked harmless but very angry; she looked quite familiar too. Immediately, Drake recalled where he had seen her.

"You!" He pointed to her, his long slender finger in her face. How on earth could this be happening? Drake asked himself. Was he now dreaming?

Drake found himself rubbing his eyes roughly before looking at the lady and when he discovered that it was not a dream but a reality, he gasped.

He was standing right before the woman who had featured in his dreams the past week, the woman whose face he saw every time he closed his eyes.

He had even begun drawing sketches of her in his bedroom and had once entertained the thought of returning to that club to see if he would be lucky enough to see her again — yes, he was that obsessed.

Now that he was standing right before her, Drake did not know how to react. He had dreamt about this moment a whole lot but now that he was finally living his dreams, it felt like his lips had been sealed with an invisible tape.

Besides, she was not acting the way he had expected her to. In his dreams, she had smiled brightly at him but now she was glaring at him like she was staring at her arch-enemy even when they were just meeting for the first time.

Standing so close to her, Drake could finally see her features clearly unlike the darkened image he had of her from that night.

He could see how sensuous her lips well: they were full, a light shade of pink with the cupid bow of the upper lip dipping ever so delicately at the centre.

Her nose: long and pointed, and her eyes, a rare shade of purplish blue, decorated with long lashes and a perfectly carved brow.

Drake, being a doctor, had only seen this shade in people with albinism; however this lady was not one and she had them. This aroused Drake’s already piqued interest.

She was a mystery: everything about her seemed mysterious and Drake had never been this blown away by anyone.

She still had that glare on her face as she looked him over and Drake wondered if she had some frowning disorder.

She had been frowning that night too at the club and had only smiled because her victim had been in pain. Something about her screamed danger: it was glaring in the way she walked and in the way she stared.

Right now, she looked like she wanted to pounce on him and Drake averted his eyes immediately, now uncomfortable with her intense stare; his cheeks heated up in embarrassment as he stood before her.

He had met so many scary people in the past but none like her. She was beyond scary and he couldn't help but think what was going on through her mind.

Despite having most girls glare at him at every slightest opportunity, he still wasn't used to the feeling. It was like the mere sight of him irritated them, as most of the female employees at the company shook their heads in disgust each time he walked past.

What then had he expected from this lady who was looking at him like he was some smelly animal from the forest? Why would he think she would treat him better?

It was not as if he was ugly - a thousand times no! He was very good looking — at least, he received quite an handful of compliments each time he updated his profile with a selfie.

But something about him just turned women off. Was it because of his sickly appearance? Was it because he did not look anything like the perfect men that appeared in movies and novels?

The only way Drake felt he could find answers to his questions was to engage one of those women but did he want to know? After all, he had Nicole who treated him much better than any other female.

The red dress lady — as Drake had resulted to calling her — raised a brow as she stared at the man standing before her and in a flash, she dropped the bowl she had been holding and grabbed him by his light fabric, tugging at it violently as though she wanted to rip it apart.

"Who are you and what are you doing in front of my house?" She gritted her teeth; her fingers digging into his skin.

Her house? Drake was now confused as he stared into her angry violet eyes. Looking at her upfront, Drake knew she was new for he had never seen her before that day. Hinsdale was quite small so he knew virtually everyone.

As she held onto his singlet, Drake couldn't form a coherent word as he was very surprised at her behaviour; she was choking him with her tight grip too.

What kind of new neighbour behaved this way? The last neighbour he had before the mysterious death of the couple had made him some sandwich — such a caring soul. But this one?

He expected a smile or a wave of hand at least — something far from a glare — for a new resident but the sight before him told him otherwise.

He opened his mouth to speak but all he could do was gasp. Her long dark-brown hair was all over his face as the evening wind swept them sideways.

Her skin was also glistening with sweat and Drake knew it was due to the strenuous work she had been doing before his arrival. Why again was she breaking dishes?

Her grip on his shirt was now getting tighter for his comfort so he placed his hand over hers to free himself from her grip but she only held onto him tighter; the expression on her face demanding an answer to her question. But how could he respond when he could barely breathe?

Her heavy breath fanned his face as she pushed him hard like she could read his thought and he almost fell.

Drake, thinking it was now over, struggled to regain his balance when he caught her grabbing a shard from the bowl of broken dishes on the ground beside her. Alarmed, he raised his hands in surrender.

"I'm. . .I'm your neighbour!" He blurted out and she looked at him.

"I live here." He pointed to his house. "I heard sounds of dishes breaking so I came to check who it was since this house was supposed to be empty." He explained and he watched her chest relax.

She made her way to drop the shard but like a voice warned her not to, she advanced towards him with the weapon in her hand.

"What do you mean by 'you'? Do you know me?" The glare had returned to her face and Drake staggered a bit. He wondered why he was acting this way; she was only a harmless lady, wasn't she?

The look on her face told Drake he would really get stabbed if he didn't provide a reasonable answer to her question. She would sure get away with it if she stabbed him — one disadvantage of living alone in a deserted street.

Ever since the old couple's mysterious death, most neighbours relocated except him. She could dispose of his corpse in the nearby bush. End of story!

Drake shuddered at this. It was true he was a loner but he didn't want to die yet. He still had his poor mother who did nothing but worry about him all day long.

"I don't know you but I saw you in the club."

She let out a heavy sigh when he said that and looked away from him. A look of regret flashed across her face but it soon disappeared as soon as it appeared, that Drake found himself wondering if he had ever seen anything.

Shaking her head and grabbing her bowl, she walked to the nearby bush that was opposite their houses and disposed of the broken dishes.

Drake stood by her door, watching her and when she got close to him, she stopped and picked up the pestle which had fallen from his hand when he fell.

"Did you bring this to attack someone or was this brought to attack you?" She raised a brow. "It seems to me you brought it along so I can beat you with it, seeing how you behaved like a chicken."

Drake frowned; he didn't like the tone of her voice; it was debasing. He wondered why she was being so rude. They were just meeting for the first time and she was already making him feel less of a human.

Now angry, he grabbed the pestle from her hand and walked quickly back to his house. He slammed the door shut and padded into his bedroom.

Though he was relieved it hadn't been a ghost or something worst, he was deeply provoked by her behaviour. He did not know if he liked her any more.