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Prologue

Gabriel aged 5

“You’re funny.”

“No, you’re funny.” The man with a bloody eye says.

He’s my new friend Marcus. He plays ball with me in the yard. He said guns are bad and that’s why he has a funny eye. He wants me to tell his mommy something but I’m not allowed to go on the bus by myself.

“Remember what your momma said, Gabriel,” Miss Fanny says. She has a crinkly dark face from always smiling. She’s soft and smells like cookies and she makes me feel happy.

“I know,” I tell her.

“Gabriel! Who are you talking to, baby?” Momma says.

She always whoops me for telling lies. But I don’t tell lies. I have lots of friends. They follow me. They're always there. I like it. It means I don’t get lonely.

“Just my friends,” I yell back at Momma.

“Ain’t no one there child!” she says, loud and angry. She gets mad sometimes when I tell her about my friends.

“So, can you help me, Gabriel?” the man asks.

I look at Miss Fanny who gives me smiles. “Will you help me, Miss Fanny?”

“I’ll always help you baby.”

Gabriel aged 12

“Who you talkin’ to now, freak?” Danny asks, shoving me into a locker.

“Yeah freak!” another boy taunts.

My friends all look on sadly. They can’t help me. They’re the ones who got me into this. I know I’m the only one who sees them. I used to think they were in my head. Now, I don’t know.

“Please Gabriel, can you help me?” Sarah asks.

She’s thirty-five. She was killed crossing the road. She wants me to talk to her children. Tell them something important before she can leave but I don’t want to. I want to try out for the basketball team. Maybe then the other boys will like me.

“The souls need you, baby,” Miss Fanny cries. Every time she does she makes me hurt. In my chest. In my knees. My elbows. My head. Everywhere.

The punch to my face comes out of nowhere, sending me to the ground and I’ve had enough. I need to get out of here. I need to be left alone. By both the people at school and the people who never really let me be.

Gabriel aged 13

“Easy now, bébé. Mama Celene got you.”

I flinch from the hand reaching for me. Curling tighter into my body. I just want to be left alone. The voices are too much. They want more and more of me. I have no friends. My family sent me to the mental hospital. I’m not mental. I’m…cursed. The voices got worse so I had to run.

A warm hand lands on my knee and I freeze. Curled up against the dumpster, staring at the warm, dark hand on my leg.

“I got you. And dem spirits.”

Spirits.

Gabriel - Almost a year ago

“You’re sure about this, little sister?”