 
Fading Out...

By Ayush Srivastava

2014 Copyright Ayush Srivastava

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

SUMMARY

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Summary

It was supposed to be just a dare...

When 18 year old Nick Demming Peters entered the haunted Victorian mansion of his small town of Anacresia on a challenge to prove his bravery, on the inside he shook with fear of what might happen. The mansion was haunted by a ghost lady who hated anyone who dared to intrude into her home or tried to damage it. With his barely concealed shaking legs, he enters the mansion at dusk to stay until dawn or until he recovers a sapphire necklace kept in the ghost lady's room. He was hoping nothing might happen. That nothing changes. But everything did.

But it is never really that simple now, is it?

When 100 year old ghost of Daisy McCain, who died at a young age of 17 on the night her wedding day's eve, sees the young boy entering the mansion with barely hidden fear, she immediately is drawn to him. But when she sees him try to sneak out the necklace she prizes far more than anything else, she is enraged and decides to scare him to scar him forever. But when she appears in front of him, something happens that neither expected.

And now they have a choice to make: Love or Existence?

A ghost who chooses to stay can only last 150 years while slowly going weak. Daisy is barely able to hold on to her appearance and she often suffers from memory losses. She knows that having chosen to stay, she will just fade out of existence, never to be reborn again. But Nick isn't accepting that. He never believed in love at first sight but is now in love with Daisy, who seems to be reciprocating his feelings. Now, when Daisy has no hope for herself, he believes that there must be a way. But then there is a choice to be made by them both, do they stay together and let Daisy fade out or do they work to help Daisy move on, and separate her from him and leave two broken hearts in the process?
Prologue

Shane's POV

"You cocky idiot. You think you are the bravest and strongest in the world don't you Nick?" I ask, still infuriated at him for asking Millie for coffee even though I liked her and he knew it. The only advantage he had over me was that he braved asking her out in front of her big brother, the football quarterback Mike "M" Johnson, who threatened severe damage to anyone asking her out, moments before I did.

"I cannot say I am that but at least I am better than you." He replies and my anger spikes. That cocky bastard! I barely control myself from hitting him in that face he is so proud of. _The best 'public' part of me_ , he calls it. Yeah as if he ever even got to second base with anyone.

"You are just a fake, Nick, and I can prove it. Complete one dare of mine and I will accept you to be truly fearless." I say and quickly search through my thoughts for his fears. So what if he has been my best friend since kindergarten? I look for the scariest dare I can think for him but I come up empty.

"Sure. What is it?" Nick replies and I see a self-confident gleam in his eyes. _Overconfident idiot._ I am still thinking as we walk while I discard ideas that would have worked on me but I know that he will do them easily, despite the consequences. No, I think, the challenge must make him shiver before it even begins.

As we walk past, I keep staring away from inspiration while Nick hums some random tune. _I could ask him to paint Mr Cole's ferocious bulldog. Nah, he will just throw a bucket of paint on it or just feed it a sleeping pill somehow and paint it then. I could ask him to destroy Mrs Andrews's beautiful garden. Really? That's what I come up with? Next!_

And I almost miss the way Nick shoulder get slightly stiff and his humming fades a little as we pass the ruined 'haunted' McCain mansion. It is Victorian in design and would have been once beautiful but now, it is only a blot in our city's reputation. Freaks and 'ghost hunters' keep coming to our town to meet and, try to, capture the ghost that haunts its walls but so far none have succeeded. All of us have been warned for three generations now not to go to that place or else-. I freeze and smile at Nick who keeps walking, oblivious to the fact that I am no longer beside him.

"Hey, Nick! I got it. Your dare is..." I say and pause for dramatic effect. He stops but doesn't turn. His voice comes, "Come on, Shane. Can't we do this somewhere else?" His voice sounds normal but having known him for years, I see him shifting his weight on his right leg nervously and the stiff set of his shoulders and I know he is not comfortable here. Even though I feel a little bad, I push away the guilt as I realize this challenge is exactly what I need for my revenge. And so I finish, "to get the sapphire necklace kept inside the McCain mansion."

He freezes and I know that he isn't even breathing. I have a pretty good idea how he would look like. Face drained of blood, eyes wide in disbelief and his body... well, he is trying but I can see the shaking.

"What?!" He shouts but it has lost its strength and is full of fear and anxiety. Then he turns and I see that I guessed correctly. And now his shivering is clearly noticeable to anyone who would look at him.

"Stop this craziness Shane. What you are asking is insane!" He shouts and then walks to me. Grabbing my hand, he tries to drag me away but I resist. "God, have you been possessed? What are you talking about? Do you know what this stupid dare could cause?" He practically blows my ear off with the shouting.

Resisting my urge to take it all back just to have him spare my poor suffering ears (hmm, that sounded a little melodramatic), I simply smile back at him and say, "You are the bravest, aren't you Nick? So why hesitate? I mean that necklace must be just thrown around somewhere so why not just take it?" As I say this, an idea comes to mind. If he refuses, he is humiliated and if he succeeds then I will hand it over to Millie and take all the credit. "You are just a chicken, aren't you Nick?" And then to tease him further, I begin to make clucking noises at him. Childish and silly, but it works.

"I am not a chicken! Fine, I will go and bring it to you." Nick growls at me and begins to stomp to the door of the mansion. But it still doesn't hide his shaking hands. Then, for further pleasure, I shout, "Not now, Nick. My dare wasn't complete. You have to go in at dusk and come out at dawn. Not before that."

He opens his mouth to protest but one clucking noise silences him. I can see he is angry but he is holding it back for some reason. _Why?_ I am tempted to ask but I don't. It doesn't matter right now.

With a defeated sigh, he says, "All right. I will go in there tonight. Now that it is done, I am going home for now. Do NOT follow me." He says with a special emphasis on 'not'. Then, before I can even open my mouth, he leaves me alone.

As I stare at his retreating form, my conscience tells me that I have been too harsh and cruel and I shouldn't have done that. It tells me to apologize but then what happened today at cafeteria comes back to me and I stop myself from calling him out and doing exactly what my conscience wants.

_He needs to suffe_ r _._ I console myself. _He deserves it._

For some reason, even I realize my lie. _Maybe he does, but not this. Definitely not this_ _._ My conscience replies and I can't help but agree.

*****

Later that night

_Where is he? Is he not coming?_ I pace at the entrance, waiting for Nick to show up. A huge part of me now realizes that I was wrong but I know I cannot back out now or it will give Nick the opportunity to taunt me forever. So I only hope that he isn't coming. _Let him just face defeat than be blinded by his ego. But can I truly expect that of him when I haven't done so either?_

I am about to head back home when I hear a snapping of twig and I move my head so fast that for a second, I fear I might have given myself a whiplash. Almost fortunately, though, nothing like that happens. Nick, though, steps out of the trees surrounding the house, and my heart tries to pummel out of my chest.

Still, I put on my brave face and say, "So you are here. It isn't too late to back out even now. Just accept defeat and we will leave. Or you can walk in and face the dare with indefinite consequences." _Please back out. Please be a coward._

"I made my choice already Shane. There is no need to bait me further." He replies, trying to work out calmness in his voice but fear is clearly present.  _He is scared. Make him back down._ "You sure Nick? The ghost won't tolerate any disrespect. Even that Jimmy kid, you know the one who tried to hook up with a girl in here, was so badly scared that he needed months of therapy to even talk without looking around for anything coming for him. And that girl and her parents had to move to some other place. And then there is the thing that happened to the last group who tried to tear the mansion down. What happened to them still gives the witnesses nightmares and you still want to go in? Back down Nick." As I speak those last three words, I wince as I realize what I just did.

With Nick, you never ask him to accept defeat directly but try to plant doubt. To try to force he means his ego will take over and he will make the wrong choice. And as expected, he replies, "And accept defeat? Never! I am going to get that necklace and no ghost can stop me." His voice almost cracks at the word 'ghost' but it still doesn't stop him.

He yanks the door open and I try one last time, "Please Nick. You don't really have to do this. Just quit and no one will ever even find out, I promise. Just don't make any hasty decisions Nick. That is all I ask. I swear, no one will ever know about this."

He stops at the threshold and responds, "I don't care about the others, Shane. But I will know and I will always regret it with a 'what if?' you know." He pauses and then says, "You know, I was going to send you in my place for the date with Millie. You said you were going to ask her out but you were too scared to really try so I had to force you. I was just trying to help. And this is what I get in return for help. Thanks a lot, Shane." He closes the door behind him as I stare at him in shock.

And then, once I recover, I sit down at the base of a nearby tree and make myself comfortable for the night. Then I check my wrist and see that it is still 12 hours from dawn. I sigh, "Well, it is going to be a long night." And in my mind, only one thought keeps coming back again and again, bringing a new wave of guilt each time.

_Please be okay, Nick. Please be okay._
Chapter 1

Daisy's POV

It's so quiet. The moon is so alone in the dark sky. Just like me. I just wish someone would come. Or something would happen. It's been so long that they all went away. Maybe I should too. But how?

A creaking of the wooden floor in the entrance hall breaks me out of my gloomy thoughts and I immediately feel myself prepare for yet another intrusion. These people should just learn their lesson and leave me alone. Why do they keep coming to disturb me and disrespect someone else's property? Before a living human can blink, I move from the attic above the first floor of the house to the entrance hall, hiding among the curtains. I wouldn't have chosen to hide, being a ghost and all that, but with my almost hundred years of being a ghost, I have almost lost control over my form. And I would rather not scare this intruder away... just yet.

From between the red velvety curtains, which are now covered with dust and spider webs, I peek carefully at the intruder. A teenager. He seems about the age I was when I died. And his height is about six feet, two inches taller than me. From my angle of view though, I can only see his brown hair. I look around to see if there is a girl around as well. Today's teenagers think that people abandoned haunted houses just for them to have a place to make out, and more. I had seen a lot, not to the level of becoming a pervert though, and scared them away as soon as they let their guard down. This time, though, there doesn't seem to be a girl around. Turn around. Show me your face.

It is as if my words compel him and he turns in my direction. The first thought in my mind is that he looks so scared that even the sound of wood creaking beneath his feet might make him wet his pants. No, I remind myself, not pants. Jeans. After that I notice how his aqua blue eyes dart around the place in fear, looking for something, probably me. His eyes pass over my hiding spot and I feel a bit of affection of how nice he looks. The thought is accompanied with a frown and mental shake. This un-ladylike behaviour isn't fitting of a lady, even though this lady has been dead for a century. Besides, he has nothing on my George.

After a few more minutes of staring around for a sign of my presence, he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. With the help of the advanced ability of hearing, I now focus on his heartbeat, which is still beating quite erratically. I am tempted to just come out and make him run but these silly pranks are not how I was raised. Death is not an excuse to forget manners. Still I doubt him making through the hour with me.

Of course the resolve to be a well-mannered lady flies out the window when I notice a half-burned candle near the entrance, which is just in edge of sight of the mortal boy. With one wave of hand, I burn the wick of the candle of a flame several feet long and feel like a kid again when the mortal yelps and runs away from the door and the now-extinguished candle while clutching his chest as if to stop his heart from escaping. In my defence, I never really was a true lady. I loved pranks. Which ultimately brought to this point of my existence.

The thought is sobering and becoming serious once again, I look at the mortal boy once again. He is panting in fear as he still looks around the place for a sighting. All the while, he leans against a long couch covered with a white cloth. For one small second, a part of me, though small, desires to raise the white cloth in the shape of a ghost. Logic penetrates and I stop for no reason other than to not give him a heart attack.

After gathering courage, which takes several long minutes, he begins to walk towards the stairs for the sleeping quarters of the owners on the first floor of the ruins. It is a pathetic reason but the only reason I don't pull off another prank and speed him up from snail's pace is that the wooden stairs are old and probably decaying. Caution is a good thing to have against this place. Being a ghost, even I couldn't save this place from the ill-effects of time and disgusting insects. I want him scared, not dead.

Moving through air and space is now quite easy for me as a ghost. Occasional quirks aside, I can get exactly where I want without being displaced by even an inch. As he makes his way up, I sift through the air and appear in the hidden passage in the wall. I hadn't even known about these until after I was a ghost. My killer had, though, and would have gotten away if I hadn't disclosed its existence to others. And all of this because she couldn't control her greed.

Through the painting of my alive self, I watch him as he climbs up the stairs and finally reaches the first floor. I almost announce my presence to him when I see his face from such a close distance. It's him. He's back! But how? A part of me is still watching me this strangely familiar scared teenager in the twenty-first century but another part of me is lost in the time that is now a century old.

"Samuel. Do not dare to hit my horse with that stick or I swear I will beat you with it myself before handing you over to father." I scream at the scrawny young boy who teasingly holds a thin branch in his hands.

"Princess." He uses my nickname and I groan at his defiant tone. He is definitely going to do it. "Just because I am your horse-keeper's son doesn't mean I am your servant. Or that I am not your best friend." And with that, he hits my innocent horse in the rear with quite some force. As my horse runs away with a shriek, I scream that I will kill him. And he responds that he would look forward to it.

An hour later, both of our fathers stood in my father's office scolding him while I looked at him with equal parts smugness and equal parts sadness. I never meant to report what he did but neither one had expected my horse to veer towards his father. Mr Cullingham almost had a heart-attack when he saw me on a panicked horse. Even now in the middle of scolding, he often looked my way to see if I was injured in any way and was hiding it to treat it later on my own. "I'm sorry. I swear nothing was going to go bad. I was already following her on foot to make sure of that."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that my daughter was on a panicked out-of-control horse!" Dad roared and even I flinched. My dad in a temper was a sight best left unseen. Our entire house, a two-storeyed Victorian house shook from the basement to the attic, at the harsh sound of dad. Even Mr Cullingham took a step back in fear. Samuel opened his mouth to speak but his eyes caught me shaking my head in denial and he stopped. Dad was already outraged. Nothing he could say to help his side. It would be wise to just let things go uninterrupted.

"If you weren't my most trusted employee's son AND my daughter's best friend, I swear I would have handed you over to the authorities." All three of us sucked in harsh breaths in the fear of how determined he was to punish him. Samuel even shook a little. Both I and Mr Cullingham were about to defend him when dad delivered the brutal blow of punishment. "Still, I have high hopes of you. You have the potential of becoming a gentleman if you work hard enough. But for that you need discipline. I am personally going to go ask Colonel Whitting have you enlisted in the army. The discipline and self-control would be good for you." There was a stunned silence for a moment and dad didn't hesitate before declaring the final words. "This is my decision. He must serve the nation and learn some discipline to survive in the world." Being four years older than me, he was already eighteen. Before that moment, I had never really felt the distinction being pointed out that clearly. All three of us left without any useful words and though Mr Cullingham kept apologizing, Samuel refused to even look at me. And that loss of connection hurt.

This was the year 1913. It was the last time I ever saw Samuel before the First World War began. The last time before my marriage was fixed. The last time before I was killed in my sleep by my maid of honour. The last time before my funeral.

In January 1918, I saw him again. He was no longer scrawny brash impulsive kid but was a well-built disciplined gentleman now. Even my father wept on his shoulder at my funeral. His father couldn't even stand up to stare at my lifeless form. In one night, all the celebratory mood had turned into a mourning. No one had noticed how lifeless Samuel had looked in the eyes. Or how there had been defeat written all over his form.

I hadn't known how to control my form, as I had already chosen to stay by then, and so had watched helplessly shed tears in the dark loneliness of the upper level of the stable in the back fields. And then he had pulled out two items that had stopped my dead-heart. In one hand of his was a portrait of mine he had paid a professional artist to make, even though it took all his savings of several years to pay his fees. In the other hand was a gold engagement ring with a small but beautiful diamond embedded. For a moment I wondered why he was holding it right now. But then he spoke, "I'm sorry. I loved you. Always. But I never could be strong enough to say it. I waited to be strong enough. I waited too long." My heart broke into thousand pieces at his words. They also brought a realization that before my fiancé, I had loved him too. It was probable that I had loved him more than my fiancé.

It had been not even a year since my funeral when news had come that he had died in action in Argonne Forest fight in France on November 3, just few days short of the end of the Great War. When his personal belongings were brought back home, everyone had finally found out about his feelings towards me via the unsent thousands of letters of love, including one after my funeral. But it was none other than the portrait and the ring that drove the house into another month-long mourning.

And in all of his unsent letters, which I managed to read in private and then preserved in a safe place, he mourned that last fight we had. Along with the letters, I had a necklace kept safe there as well. His engagement ring held in a golden string with intricate embroideries to be forever safe in my bedroom vault.

And now, after almost a decade, here he was. Standing in front of me again. He looked the same but in modern wear and a pain, that could have been physical if I had been alive, filled me as he stared at these familiar walls without any sort of recognition. Treading carefully through the rusted wood, he walked towards the room that dad, and later my brother and his children, had occupied. He entered the room tentatively, as if I would scare him upon opening the door and if he didn't resemble him, I probably would have done so. I let out a silent whisper to see if he remembers me. "Samuel?"

He doesn't seem to hear me. Surprised to see me and shaken by the memory, I was so off-balance that I didn't realize that my voice was so low that he wouldn't have heard me even if he stood next to me.

My invisible form was now stable but I still cautiously followed him to see him going through the empty cabinets and wardrobes. What is he looking for? A part of me wondered if he was a thief. Anger rose as I considered a thief going through my family mansion but I controlled it. Only because he resembled Samuel, I didn't want to refuse him the benefit of doubt. As he finally left the room, with no success in whatever he sought, I tried again. "Samuel?" I mentally berated myself for letting hope fill in my voice.

He froze where he stood and I knew he had heard me. I walked to see him face-to-face and saw only fear. There was no recognition. I felt a stabbing pain in the place where my heart would have been as I stared at his pale face and lifted a hand to caress his face on an impulse.

It was that moment I lost stability over my form and became visible once again.
Chapter 2

Nick's POV

Forget about a cold draft when passing through a ghost spot, this entire place was cold. Despite the fear that threatened to paralyze me completely, I had managed to search a room that seemed to belong to the head of the family for the necklace but there was nothing there. She hadn't hidden it there. And then, the thought of her made me paranoid again. Was she still watching me? If not, what was she doing? I had a feeling of being watched but I had passed it off as fear. I had just reached back the main stairs when I heard it and my blood turned cold.

"Samuel?" The disembodied hopeful voice was enough to freeze me in my spot. I had no idea who Samuel was but apparently, Miss Ghost here knew someone named Samuel and expected me to be him. The feeling of being watched had intensified ten-fold as I had felt all blood drain from my face. And just when I was going to chalk it up to my mind playing tricks on me, she was directly in face, about to touch me. There was no other way I was going to respond.

"Aah!" I screamed and backed up from her. In my hurry, I stumbled and fell backwards but I didn't stop moving back until I touched the wall. Even then, it wasn't enough. "Who are you?" I asked and my mind immediately responded with a Duh, ghost. Her expression was pained and that momentarily put me in doubt about her intentions but then my mind figured out that she might be playing tricks on me. Sympathy before... torture?

It takes her a few moments before she recovers and her face becomes an emotionless mask. "Who are you? And why are you trespassing in my home? I saw you go through my father's room. What are seeking, thief?" I open my mouth to immediately protest that I am no thief but I stop as I realize that in this instance I am the thief.

As I search for an excuse, I remember how she seemed hopeful to see me and I pray to God it wasn't a joke. Then I try to answer in a strong and confused voice. What comes out is a small and intimidated voice. "I... uh, I have been having vision, dreams about this place. How this place would have looked a long time ago when people lived in here. So I came here looking for clues. Can you help me? In my dreams, I also saw a necklace. Do you know where it is? It might help me recover my memories." It was a long shot but it was also the most believable theory I could come up with. Unfortunately my right eye twitched as I lied. Thankfully, she didn't know about this.

"You're lying." She plainly declared. Okay, maybe she does know. "I have been watching you since you entered. You showed no sign of recognition. Not even when you entered my father's room. Not even when I called you by a name I knew you in. I can see that you searched for my room. If you were Samuel, you would have known which way to go." Her voice quietens a little. "He always did."

Okay, time to come up with a new lie to cover up the loopholes of this previous one. Think, Nick, think. Your life is on the line here. "I'm not lying. I...uh, I... um, my dreams never had any voice. All I saw were scenes. Things that I shouldn't know but I do." Oops! Wrong sort of lie. What was I thinking? Please don't ask. Please don't ask.

"Yeah, like what?" She asks in a disinterested voice as she puts her right hand on her hip and my heart skips a beat in fear. Shoot! She did ask.

Come on, Nick. Come up with something. At least try some generic things. She did say that this Samuel guy knew her room. They must have been friends. "I remember a vision of a girl, possibly you, laughing towards me. The memory is selective and I only remember your face from it." Then, as I see her standing in front of me, I describe her. "She had a face that I could only describe as angelic. Her light blue eyes always made me think of the open sky, free and uncontrolled. Her complexion was slightly dark than others but I couldn't imagine it any other way. Her smile takes my breath away but I don't tell her that and her hair... her brown hair was looking like a hornet's nest." I pause as I realize as I just insulted her. The complexion part was a guess because she was an almost faded white ghost now.

I look at her slowly so as to avoid seeing her angry at having caught me lying. Her expression isn't angry though. It is like she is remembering a happy memory that is tinged with a bit of sadness. There is a long time that she doesn't move at all. And then she just disappears. Fearful of having attained her wrath, I quickly look all around me, half-expecting something big and solid to hit me from the side. Nothing happens and I begin to walk forward to see if she moved ahead.

As I take a step ahead, I understand what people mean about ghosts and cold draft. She hadn't moved but had simply disappeared. It was winter equinox today and I was already loaded with cold clothes but I still feel my bones freeze. I immediately jump back as a reflex as I point out to the ghost lady, "You could have avoided the disappearing act, you know." Wow, back-talking to a ghost. I must be getting brave and idiotic. I wonder what she will scare me with.

"Oh", a surprised disembodied voice comes from in front of me, probably where she still stands, before she continues, "It has been 100 years since my death. Getting invisible is now as natural as existing now. I don't even realize."

There is a long pause, in which I come up with thousand different ways that she could use to scare me, before she speaks again. "If this necklace can heal your memories, then I suppose there would be no harm in letting you see it." And then she moves away from me. I feel this not because I see her move but because I feel a strange momentary chill pass through me as she goes away from me.

In front of me, the last door in the hallway creaks open and though a part of me desperately wants to just confess the truth and beg for mercy, I keep on playing on my lie. It is hard to put on an act when you don't know from which angle you might be being watched. And so, I try to act like a confused and scared kid (which isn't really hard for me right now) as I slowly and carefully walk through the old floorboards. Being a ghost, I can't expect my luck to have her fall through one of these. She is probably as light as air. She did look pretty, though.

Wait? Where did that come from? Control your hormones, Nick. Tonight is not the place or time for it. Still, got to admit that in a ghostly way, she did look pretty.

When I reach her room, and it is obvious it is her room when I look inside, the first thing I do is for any scare attempt she might try. Thankfully, no flying objects come at me with dangerous intentions. Then I really look at her room. All the furniture is covered with white cloth and the place is full of spider webs. Guess no one called the cleaning lady up here. There is probably several inch thick dust gathered on the floor and on the coverings. Even taking a step in the room raises a dust cloud so dense that I can't hold the sneeze in. "Aa-choo!"

"Bless you." Comes her disembodied voice from somewhere in the room and I am surprised to find myself a bit less spooked than before. Guess she is growing on me. "I apologize for the dust but I am a ghost and I have gotten quite used to the way the room is still. I don't want to disturb the memories of farewell..." Her voice breaks a little on the word farewell. Hmm? Emotional ghost? "...of the people." Guess they were big on manners in her time. Today, there would probably be lots of curse words if a girl even dared to find herself in a room like this. They would most probably chew my head off for bringing them to a place like this.

Considering how spooky and haunted the room looks, even without her voice - which I also have to accept sounds nice, I can happily – or should I say fearfully? - declare the house, or at least this room, as haunted.

"Come on. Come to the dressing table and sit on the chair." She speaks before adding. "Oh sorry, wait." Then the wooden backless seat on which I was invited to sit on is lifted into the air and a surprisingly clean (I hope) white cloth appears out of nowhere and wipes it clean. Then the cloth returns back to wherever it came from and the seat settles back into place. "Now, have a seat. It is clean. Oh."

That last word is probably due to how I look. I don't even want to guess how I look. When the seat lifted, I almost had a heart-attack and I was fearful of it flying and attacking me. Though there was confusion as well about why would she clean it if she was going to hit me with it and my brain logically – is it illogically? – explained that she probably was being polite before attacking me and didn't want me to have infection. Sadly, it was believable. So I am pretty sure my face was empty of blood when she finally turned and noticed me.

"I am so sorry for shocking you." She does sound sorry as she speaks but after a very short pause, she speaks in a chirpy voice. "But since you are already standing there, wait a few more moments." She needs to get her head checked. She goes through so severe mood changes so quickly. The cleaning cloth makes a second appearance and this time, to my relief, no furniture rises into the air as it wipes the dressing table clean as well. As it leaves once again, she speaks, "Okay. You can sit now."

Not trusting this potentially insane ghost – and what was I thinking? Lying to this unstable ghost? – I tread carefully across the room and check if the wooden seat is strong enough before sitting on it. The ghostly wiper cleaned the mirror as well and I can see my scared-out-of-my-mind face in the mirror. It is not a pretty sight. Some creaking sounds come from my right and I have the privilege of seeing my face drain of blood, again. I might as well be albino.

Slowly, and warily, I turn towards the source of all the creaking and I see three creepily floating necklaces fly towards me. With a yelp, I quickly duck and cover my head with my hands against any possible jewellery attack. No such attack comes though and I see the three of them float above the dressing table in front of me.

"You really are scared, aren't you?" She speaks in a voice that is clearly controlling laughter. Really? You figured that out just now? "Don't worry. I won't try to hurt you unless you lie to me or give me a justified cause to do so." Yeah, not really helpful. Then her voice sobers and she speaks in complete seriousness. "Time to make the choice forgetful boy. Oh wait, I don't even know your name. What is your name, boy?" Great. Scare me for the fun of it by saying 'is' in a spooky voice.

Shamefully, my voice is likely a five year old kid who has just been scolded and is just about to cry when I respond. "Nick." Clearing my throat, I try again. "Nick Demming Peters." Alright. Didn't crack as much as the first time.

"Okay, Nick. My name is Daisy. Daisy McCain. Well, I still don't know if you are honest or if you are trying to mess with me." She continues. "You better not be trying to mess with me by, the way. You have to identify the real necklace, the one from your dreams from these three. Only one is really real and the other two are illusions I have created. Choose the real one within ten seconds and I will believe what you say."

Ten seconds? What the heck can I do in ten seconds? God, this had to happen. I shouldn't have lied about the necklace. Finally realizing I was wasting time. I looked at three of them. None was sapphire. My heart dipped. God, was the necklace not sapphire? I'm screwed. The first one is an emerald necklace with intricate designs on it. The middle one is a simple one with a small diamond ring on the golden thread. The ring has some inscription in it that I don't have time to read. The third is a golden threaded necklace as well but is more heavily detailed and designed than the others. Which one? Which one is real? Leaving it all to luck, and prayers to God for help, I blindly reach for the necklaces, deciding to choose whichever gets in my hand. I know my choice once I feel the white jewel – diamond? – on the ring sting my palm.

She takes a sharp breath – isn't she dead? – and there is a long pause of silence. I must have checked my surroundings for any potential attack and the floor below my chair for any hidden trapdoor to be activated before she breaks the silence. "Oh Samuel." And I know. I made the right choice. This simple ring was the Samuel's necklace. Wait, isn't that diamond ring quite similar to a... Oh shoot!

The two were supposed to be engaged. The chain was probably added after her death. The ring looks clean of any bloodstains. He mustn't have proposed yet. But I thought she died on her wedding eve. I am confused now. Love triangle?

"Do you remember things now?" She hopefully asks and even though she is dead, I feel bad about having lied to her. On the other hand, I don't really need the ring. I can keep the golden string alone. That would itself be good enough for the bet.

Wishing desperately my poker face is excellent, and since I don't play poker I really have to wish for it, I answer her in a fake-sad voice. "Sorry. But no memory unlocks even now. I can't even remember my own name from the past life. I fear this has caused some unnecessary pain to you. I must take my leave." I stand up and turn around, feeling somewhat grateful that she's still invisible. There's no way I can see the pain I've caused her by my lies and not have everything fall apart.

Her quiet sobs fill the room as I exit the room. The door closes in on itself and I feel bad for having hurt her.

With a small pat on my jeans right pocket, I check that the golden thread is still here and realize that I brought the ring as well. I turn to return the ring – I don't have to steal something that special – when the main door flies open and Shawn falls in. "Ouch." Then he turns and sees me standing frozen on the stairs. "Come on, Nick. I am sorry. Forgive me. The bet's off. Forget the necklace. Let's just leave." NO! Idiot! I internally scream at him and I am not even done before a floor board creaks beneath his feet and kicks him inside. All right, no time to be slow.

"Run!" I scream but it is too late. The door upstairs opens so hard that the entire house shakes and at the same instant, the door behind Shawn closes before I can blink. And then comes the scream. A one-word scream of not only anger but also sadness and betrayal that the entire ruin echoes.

"THIEVES!"
Chapter 3

Daisy's POV

"Did you love him?" Father had asked me one day after he often saw me moving around the house holding the ring Samuel never gave me. It had been seven years since my death now and six since Samuel's. I had hoped a lot that he would choose to stay too but he moved on, never knowing that I stayed behind.

"Yes. I guess I did. I never realized this or I wouldn't have accepted George's marriage proposal. It was only when I saw him with the ring later on the day of my funeral that I realized the true power of these feelings. I couldn't even tell him that I understood how he felt at the moment." I had sadly replied. I was thankful that George was not here but was off on his honeymoon with his new wife Cynthia. I liked her. We would have been good friends if life had chosen to bring us together in some other way. She was a little taller than me and was very beautiful but it wasn't all her looks. She had the heart and the brains too to be always smart in life and be a perfect life-partner for George.

"Then give the ring to me." He asked for the ring and I hesitated, being unwilling to lose this last symbol of the unspoken love between me and him. "I will be careful with it and have it back to you in a day." I trusted my father, but just to be safe, I was going to be with him, invisible of course.

Just before I gave the ring to him, I asked him a question that had often popped up when I tried to think of a life when I and Samuel ended up declaring our love for each other while we were both alive. "Father, if things hadn't gone this way... if I hadn't died and Samuel had proposed before I ever met George then would you have given your blessings?"

He was shocked by my sudden question and I got my answer as I read the feelings that went through his face. Shock. Surprise. Anger. Shame. Then the mask slipped on and his feelings disappeared as he tried to lie to me. "Yes... where are you going?" He called out as I disappeared before his eyes.

Then I broke a golden lace from one of heavy and ostentatious window drapes and fashioned a rough necklace by passing it through the ring. Before I left the room, I spoke and my father, who was still staring at the place from where I last stood, turned left towards me. "Father, you should know better. Eyes and the surprised face are the windows of the soul after all." I promised myself I would never let anyone ever separate it from me. He would regret that hesitation until he would pass away thirty five years later from that day.

Now, tears fall as all my hope dies by the hand of this very necklace. By taking a few things from here and there, I had made a necklace that was almost wearable out of that terrible first piece. I mourn the loss of hope that had snuck in while I dealt with that Nick. I didn't want to see that necklace just yet and so I kept my eyes closed as the endless tears fell.

As I heard his steps on those creaking stairs, I remembered that the main entrance of the house was held locked. With only a bit of concentration of the telekinetic power I had, I unlocked the door. An unfamiliar voice grunted in sudden pain and my sobs slowed as I tried to hear more about this new stranger. And then what he spoke could have been a dagger across my throat.

"Come on, Nick. I am sorry. Forgive me. The bet's off. Forget the necklace. Let's just leave." This stranger spoke and my eyes flew open. To my horror, and to their misfortune, there was no necklace. LIES! It was all a lie! Then I use these after-death powers once again and kick the newcomer inside and lock the door just as the thief, Nick, yells to the other male intruder to run.

Trust and hope are such sneaky things. They invade without getting caught, only making their presence known when they break within. Hurt and betrayal rise within me as I pull the door open and scream, 'THIEVES!'

With one wave of my hand, and a large creaking sound, I turn the stairs into a slippery slope and a small part of my betrayed heart is joyed to hear him yelp and then grunt in pain. "Daisy", he tries to speak as he looks at me. I must be visible again. "I can explain..." while his friend yelps so loud that I entertain the possibility that he lost his ability to speak. That is a pleasant thought.

"You lie to me. You steal from me. You invade my privacy. You break my trust in you. You shatter my hope. Tell me, Nick Demming Peters, WHY should I listen to you?" I scream at his crumpled form at the base of the stairs, which are now regaining their shape, from the top of the stairs. "No. Time for listening is way past. There can only be punishment now." With that, I flick my hand and both of the thieves slam hard, much to my pleasure, against the wall. The entire house shudders at the force with which they impact. I should be concerned for my home but rage is a blinding force. All rationality escapes when rage overcomes the mind.

I am still not pleased by their suffering and began to control the air that goes into them. They both begin to choke as I scream at them. "GIVE ME MY NECKLACE BACK!" Nick struggles against my invisible binding that still holds the two of them in air before grabbing something from his pocket.

Remember when I said that trust and hope is a thing that sneaks in and is only found out when it dies? It turns out I did have some trust and hope left in Nick that died the moment he pulled out the necklace, my necklace, from his pocket and I am dismayed that I even considered the possibility of my Samuel being in this low-level scum. Oh yes, I had picked some words over my stay in this world for so many years. As he throws the necklace towards me, I remove the air blocks on them and use it to gently bring it to me.

The two still hang in the air and are trying quite hard to gather their breaths while probably fearing that I might decide to choke them again. I try to think of a suitable punishment for the two before realizing that I don't really care about the newcomer.

He falls to the grounds with an "oomph!" and pull his limbs closer to him, as if trying to make himself smaller would make me have pity on him. "Stand up!" I bark at him and he hurries to do my bidding, even stumbling twice before he succeeds. And then I deal with him. Just like he entered the place by being kicked in by the wooden floorboard, I begin to push him by using the floorboards towards other raised floorboards on which he crashes. I let a few extra kicks happen to inflict pain before I finally have him at the edge of the door. The poor boy is so much dazed that he doesn't even realize that he is staring outside the door. And so with one burst of power, I have him kicked out of the house with a hard, but not seriously injuring, kick on his back.

"Shawn!" Nick yells after the newcomer who screams, and probably makes his pant wet, as he crashes outside the house. Pleased, I close the door on him. He won't dare to enter this place ever again. I know the modern slang for that too but I feel that there is no need to stop being a low-grade by use of these brash words anymore. Scum was enough.

"Don't worry about him. He would be alright. I don't care about him." I tell Nick who still looks at the open door in shock but now turns to me in fear. To scare him even more, I slam the door shut and lock it in every way possible. Then I continue. "He wasn't the one who really did all the things that ultimately brought us to this point, now did he? No, that was all you."

"Please." He begs in a weak voice and I am pleased to hear that his voice betrays how badly scared he is. He even looks like he might cry. It seems at least his fear was real when he entered. "I am sorry. It was just some stupid bet. Let me go. Please just let me go. Don't kill me." Now he really looks like he would cry.

"Don't worry Nick, I won't kill you." I say in a soothing voice and he responds with a disbelieving 'really?' "Really." I tell him. "Now, what was the bet you spoke of?" Tell me what scared you so badly.

"Um... the bet... oh, you see... the bet was to spend a night in this place. The way to get out quickly was... uh, togetthenecklace." He speaks the last part so quickly that I have to pause a few moments to understand it. Then it clicks. Maybe I should kept the newcomer, Shawn, as well.

"To get the necklace, huh? And what if you lost?" I ask him, not even trying to control the anger that fills me. Nick flinches away from me and I smile at his fear. He reminds me now of another thief who had dared to break in here, without the looks of Samuel of course, hoping easy money. By the time I was done with him, even I was worried he might be having a breakdown.

He looks downwards at the height from the ground at which he was held, which should be around 3 feet by modern standards. "If I lost, I would be accepting that I was a coward." He confesses in a low voice and I smirk, at least I think that's what they call a one-sided smile now, at such a trivial excuse. Ah, the pains of having a big and untamed ego. It seems I was going to teach this one a lesson he would never forget. And hope he didn't suffer a nervous breakdown as well.

"Let's play a game, then shall we?" My words offer a choice but the tone implies that there isn't a choice to be made. "You want to get out. Get out." I motion and the door opens. Nick looks relieved and is just about to speak, probably to thank me, when I interrupt. "I haven't allowed you to speak. I am not done yet." The relief disappears and the fear returns again. "You won't have things easy. Escape this place before the night ends or stay until I leave, which is still 50 years away. Think of this as a game, would you? Now to take you to the starting room."

I smile as I see him look around in fear and mourn at the sight of being bound when freedom is so close. Through the open door, I see Shawn look at the open door in surprise and then run away. Good. By the time I look back at Nick, I see that he has made a plan. It doesn't take even a second to figure it out. Once I put him on the ground, he would make a run for it. So I simply push him up. "Up you go, Nick." Then using my scary voice, I add, "Into the attic."

He screams and I can't help it. I laugh. To him, it probably sounds like a witch's cackle. If that is required, then I am ready to be a witch for him. Because nobody messes with Daisy McCain.

I let his rising body hit the wooden roof on purpose before I shift some boards away so that he can finally go into the attic. Then I speak, and let the voice echo throughout the house.

"Alright, Nick Demming Peters. This lesson, if you manage to learn it in time, will teach you some manners. One, you should not lie. Two, you should never steal. Three, you should never toy with other people's emotions.

The rules of this game we now play is simple. To get out, you must find the necklace and get to the main entrance before dawn, which is now 10 hours away. You like pretending someone you aren't, don't you? So switch back to your pretend mode and go through these puzzles created by the one you impersonated. Each room has a puzzle and out of the ten rooms, only one holds the necklace in a hidden spot." I move and quickly place the necklace in its temporarily hiding spot. Making sure I didn't leave any signs of my presence, I return to the top of the main stairs and continue speaking.

"There has to be a catch, right? There is. Every time you fail to solve a puzzle, you end up back in the attic at the start. You can go back through rooms you have solved if you want." I speak and take a pause before adding one last rule in a not-really-so-helpful voice. "And Nick, don't get injured. This isn't a hospital. You aren't getting healed. So watch out for loose rotten floorboards as well." And with that, I disappear and move to the attic, where Nick stands frozen in his place in fear.

I think of getting a good start for the game and an old little saying, that I often used to tease Samuel with, comes to mind and I chant it. "Liar, liar. Pants on fire." With that, I set his pants on fire. It wouldn't burn him but would definitely scare him.

His sudden scream of fear fills my devilish soul with joy.
Chapter 4

Nick's POV

I have never been one to wish for a do-over. No matter how bad things have been, I have always faced them head-on instead of wishing for a do-over. But this time was different. I found myself wishing for a thousand instances where I could use a do-over.

I could have one with asking Millie Johnson out for coffee, because ultimately it started all this trouble. I could have used one when I stubbornly refused the out Shawn had given me before entering the house. I could have used one when I lied to Daisy. I could have most definitely used one when I kept the necklace in my pocket.

No use in dwelling in the past. My mind screams at me. Get a move on. We need to get out before things worsen. Although I didn't want things to worsen, I couldn't come up with a single scenario that was worse than my present situation. At least Shawn was out. Lucky bastard! With a sigh, I prepared myself to face all sorts of horror.

The first thing I realized was the utter darkness. A snort escaped at the clichéd situation. I was stuck in a dark attic. A part of me wondered if this was a sign of me going crazy. Perhaps this craziness would help pass the time if I failed and was stuck here with Daisy. Don't be a pessimist. My mind rebuked me.

I take a step forward and crash into a wooden wall in front of me. "Ow!" Just my luck, I haven't even started and I am crashing into walls. It is then I realize, I have no idea how, that I am standing the wrong way. I turn around and search for even a sliver of light to shine in this dark. Guess this is the first puzzle. The dark attic. Oh, well. No need to give up. There was more than enough time to make it through this place.

I take a step in what I hope is the forward direction but immediately freeze as a large creaking noise beneath my shoe echoes in the attic. Guess this means the wood would collapse in unexpected places. I was never a religious person but in this moment, I prayed more than even a fanatic. It helped though. The first time I did step on rotten floorboard, there was a small moment of suspension where everything was unstable. That small moment passed very quickly and I yelped as one leg of mine fell through. The pain that flared up in my leg was quite a lot and I barely managed to control it as the surrounding wood chips scratched through my jeans. This is not normal. I shouldn't be hurt. What's going on? The answer came soon enough when I felt the floor begin to reseal around my leg and I pulled it out again, despite the pain that flared. This is her work. After this, I decided to try to avoid any more such hurt.

It was a foolish decision, I realize moments later as I stumble onto my eighth such rotten floorboard on my exactly fifteenth step. No decision to be smart enough is good when you have already been stupid enough to make a ghost angry. I kept stumbling into them as my mind kept counting how much valuable time I lost in this very first room. Both of my legs were filled with wounds, wood chips and blood trails. To let my mind calm down from all the worries, I decided to become reckless and take my time, even if it took fifty years.

It was as if the choice was the key to exit. It still took a long time, that felt like hours, to find the exit but I didn't fall into any ghostly pits, though I did fell into a number of actual pits. How did I know? They didn't begin to close-in around me. And, fine I admit it, these holes actually helped as some light seeped in and helped me beat this dark puzzle at the end. I was glad at this sudden cheat at the game. Finally I found the door, which frustratingly enough, was right next to my starting point. As soon as I touched the door, three things happened.

First, her voice screamed "Cheater!" in the attic. The sound really echoed and left me momentarily deaf. Second was the sudden lighting up of the lamps of the attic and I was blinded as well. But it was really the third that disheartened me the most. I was lifted in the air and was shaken like a soda bottle before getting down again. Disoriented, I tried to reach for the door again. I should have been more attentive. I grasped only air. For several minutes I flailed my hands around, hoping that what I feared wasn't true, that I was just turned in some other direction. But even my mind didn't accept this. I cheated. So she reset me. I have to start the puzzle from the start again.

I can honestly confess to myself that it nearly broke my will to leave. How could I ever expect myself to make it through if any sort of help was wrong? I was no omniscient. But I am also glad to announce that there was a part of me that didn't give up. And I screamed that at her. "I AM NOT GIVING UP!" I had a pretty good suspicion that she could hear me. I wanted to make a point that she didn't scare me. That though she was unfair, I wasn't anymore. That doesn't mean my legs didn't bleed.

The intention to make a point died a tragically hilarious end as my first step turned out to be on a rotten floorboard. Let's restart. My brain offered a helpful out and I grasped it. It must have taken me an hour, or more likely two, before I finally figured out a way to get out of the room. As I gripped the door once again, I momentarily feared that something bad would happen again but thankfully nothing happened. I opened the door and stared outside. Then I had to control myself from shutting myself in the dark, but safe, attic.

Outside of the attic, in the small room that contained the stairs to the first level of the building, was one giant spider web. There isn't any need to explain what sat on it, now is it? Daisy must have some serious mental damage to even letting things like that breed in her house. Who kept a pet spider as big as a room? I can, once again being honest, confess that THAT sight made me seriously consider giving up.

Then logic kicked in. She can't have a spider as big as that. She must be playing with my head. It isn't real. It's an illusion. Reality is what we choose to believe in. And I chose to believe that the spider in front of me was not real. Now for a terrifying, not-at-all-fun fact, I can tell you that my spider-that-didn't-really-exist was a scary black thing. When it saw me approaching confidently, okay, I think I am walking at a level slightly above from that of a scared person about to have a panic attack, it opened its – mouth? – at me. I swear, the nightmares of every arachnophobic is made out of this sight. And all my beliefs that it wasn't real fled into the darkness of the night. I really wish I behaved in a composed way and walked back for another plan but in honesty, I ran back to the door with a scream that would have made a banshee hang her head in shame.

That...spider...is...REAL! Even my brain had to take pause to declare it to the rest of me. I could feel a full-body shutdown approach and I needed a plan, any plan to kill the beast, before I passed out. Because I doubted I would wake up before the night ended. And then my eyes fell on the thing next to me as the giant spider beast still bared its fangs at me. An idea struck me as I realized that I didn't need to kill the beast, and hope the necklace wasn't in either of these two rooms, but simply get away from it. And knowing Daisy, she wouldn't put something like this in a dirty place like this.

So, feeling glad that no one could see me, I grabbed the abandoned broom and shook it at the spider. "Go away! Shoo! Shoo!" Honestly, this moment would forever be in my list of most embarrassing actions. I could hear Daisy's disbelieving laughter as I worked on getting this spider away.

Surprisingly - yeah I am of that little faith - it worked and the spider retreated. I ran under the web, staying far out of the reach of the spider, and onto the stairs. I tried to stop on the first stair and slipped, falling down on my rear as I held onto the shaking stair below me for balance. As soon as I felt the coldness though, I knew I was in trouble. Because Daisy couldn't even leave the poor stairs out of her game, I now stood on slippery frozen stairs with a layer of ice thick enough to ensure a nasty fall.

The masochist part of me looked down and my heart stuttered. It is another one of Daisy's illusions that made it feel like the one or two feet height at which I am standing is actually a hundred feet. I knew I had to play by Daisy's rules and so I barely controlled my urge to jump down and just get this over with.

Feeling that the broom was no longer useful at the moment but might be necessary if I have a reset, I threw it back where I found it, barely missing the spider – much to my sadness - into the corner of the room. A moment later, I prayed that I wouldn't need the broom again.

I tried to stand up but my shoes began to slip even before I was off the stair and I knew this was the way only for serious injury. So settling back into the icy seat, I began to think of my escape strategy. As I went through various strategies, including one that involved taking my jacket off to use it as a more frictional surface but was discarded because I actually liked the jacket, I didn't realize that I had put too much pressure on my legs by bending forward. I realized this mistake, however, when both of them slipped and I nearly fell down. Still, I must have slipped three stairs down before the realization kicked in. Of course, slide seat by... err, slide stair by stair to get down. And so began the slow task of getting down the twelve stairs.

I knew that if I ever told about this to anyone, they would laugh at me, wondering how long it took me to get down twelve icy stairs. They would be idiots. I would like to know how quickly they could have done it in my place – with no railings for safety, with ice so slippery beneath me and with a fear of reset or worse making me question my every move.

By the time I was done with the stairs, I felt like I had just been through twelve stages of hell. At each stair I progressed, my fear of falling and being hurt or reset increased until I wasted two whole minutes on that last stair fearing a reset. Thankfully, nothing had happened, though I suspected that I may have once used the side of the stairs accidentally for support, which was kind of cheating. I guess I was lucky I wasn't caught.

Now I stood in the same corridor where I first met Daisy. There was nothing in sight and I could stare clear across the corridor to the other side. Every inch of my being knew this was a scary trap, if not the scariest, because sometimes it isn't the visible we need to fear. If she hadn't spared the attic stairs, I reasoned, she definitely wouldn't leave a corridor, especially this corridor empty. But as I took a few careful steps towards the main stairs, nothing happened. I didn't let my guard down though. It was a good thing to do.

"LIAR!" The voice came from my right all of a sudden and I jumped as the sudden scream shattered the scary silence. In one moment, I knew what was happening. This was where I had spoken, where I had lied to her. Now it was her time to speak. And she spoke a lot, always screaming just as silence would begin to settle. It was spooky. "THIEF!" "TRAITOR!" "LIAR!" "CHEATER!" "CRIMINAL!"

At each of her screams, I kept getting more spooked but I didn't respond. How could I when all she claimed was true? I had lied to her, betrayed her trust and stolen her prized possession. As she screamed "BETRAYER!" at me, almost as if she screamed exactly in my ear, I let out my apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Unfortunately it didn't help.

Now her voice was all I heard. It came from all directions, throwing accusations at me that I deserved. Tears fell as sanity began to fall under her words. My mind wanted to shut itself down, to protect itself from her words and their impact. My body collapsed onto the ground but still the screams continued. And what had come out as a desperate shout in the beginning now become a chant. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you."

People speak that when a mind closes itself to the noise, only then they can hear the whispers. I don't know what or who inspired this thought but I do know that Daisy heard them. She heard my whispered apology as the screams died away. And I whispered once again as I cried while sitting on the dirty ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Are you really?" She spoke and then appeared in front of me in solid form. We looked at each other in the eyes and I flinched at the pain and hurt I saw in her dead eyes. They were there because I hurt her.

"I'm sorry. I really am." I apologized in a whisper and then I looked at her, seeing her as she was for the first time. She was no longer a scary ghost who wanted to torment me. She was no longer the ghost who had haunted the abandoned McCain mansion. She was just a young girl, scared and hurt, who hadn't wanted to be without those she cared for, even if it meant there would be no heaven for her. A girl who had been stuck in this realm once all she cared about were gone. A girl who was still hurting. Only my actions had contributed in increasing her pain.

I wasted time and my brain kept pointing this out. But my heart didn't care. It sympathized with this lonely girl and didn't want me to interrupt this one moment of being honest with her. Even if it meant losing the game. Even if it meant never going home again. Even if it meant staying with her for as long as she existed.

And in that instant, I realized that I didn't really dread the thought.
Chapter 5

Daisy's POV

I watched him simply stand in the dark with regret clear on his face. It was too late though. Words and actions could never be undone. Especially those which are so damaging. No person has the right to play with a person, with their emotions, their feelings, their memories. Anger rose from within me even as I saw him go through the puzzle of dark attic and I created a rotten spot where he tried to step.

His sudden yelp of pain was a soothing balm to my wounds and I enjoyed his fear as he quickly realized that I was sealing these holes as well. I had placed him right next to the door and he was moving away from it. It must have been half an hour before he became reckless. What is he doing? I thought as I stared at him move without any caution. As a result he slipped into several real rotten spots. By the time I understood what he was doing, he was already heading back for the door he had spotted with the help of the little light that seeped in through the holes. For some reason, this reminded me of Samuel.

"Please follow the instructions Samuel. They exist to make things fair." I said in a composed voice to the back of Samuel and his horse as they ran off once again before the count was finished. Samuel froze and stopped his horse immediately and I internally smiled. He knew that my composed voice was the indicator that I was so angry that one more push would have me beating him mercilessly with a tree branch, of course after wrapping my handkerchief around the spot where I intend to hold it. I was a respectable lady-in-training, after all.

He gave me one of his large smiles, the placating one, and I responded with a bored expression. He flinched at that. Good. He knew I hated not following rules just for the sake of being rebellious. We were the proper people, not those worker-class people who didn't even care how they looked. "Princess." He liked to call me that, claiming that I was spoiled like one and hence deserved to be called one, as if he wasn't one of those who spoiled me. "Sometimes, rules are meant to be broken. Where's the fun if you aren't a little rule-breaker? You only live once. Why waste it by living it in a life bound by customs and traditions that are ultimately useless?" This had always sparked off a long debate between the two of us that would continue for days.

It had been one of the things I had tearfully pointed out in the letters that I never sent to him when he was in the army. Like him, I too had kept a whole stash of letters that I never let anyone read. When he was gone, I had gone through them again, remembering fond memories, before tossing them into father's fireplace.

This Nick was doomed. Everything he did reminded me of his betrayal and anger rose within me once again. As soon as he touched the door, I screamed "CHEATER!" and raised him in the air and shook him as if he were a rag doll. I almost threw him too but for some reason, I didn't want him dead. I hadn't killed anyone and he was not going to be my first. He wasn't worth it. I did change his position so he could start again. An unintended side-effect of my anger was that I accidentally had the lights flashing in the room. It would have blinded me as well but being dead, nothing happened.

His panic at the failure pleased me a little and I spend the next one and a half hours watching him make it through the puzzle. I didn't stop putting the magical rotten weak spots in his path and I knew his legs had to be hurting. I have no idea why I did what I did next. As he touched the door, I healed all of his injuries. I smiled, hoping for a sincere thanks, but nothing happened. He didn't even realize.

And so, in petty anger, I made the main obstacle of my next puzzle even bigger. His scared expression was worth it. Though I have to say that it was scary to me too. The funny situation when he tried to scare the big bad spider with a simple small broom was enough to overcome the fear and turn it into a hilarious situation.

My first thought was Samuel would have done the same thing and I froze as I unwillingly began to compare the two in my mind again. I stopped myself, or at least I believed so, but my mind pointed out that this behavioural similarity couldn't be denied. It also refused to believe that Samuel wouldn't have done what this Nick did. And though I tried to stop it, I knew somewhere within me, that little flame of hope was now re-lit.

By now he was sitting on the fourth stair of the icy staircase. Nothing really spikes the fear like walking done a set of frozen stairs with no safety of any form to depend on. When he threw the broom back, I was momentarily confused before realization settled that he was preparing in case he had to be reset. And so rose a little bit of respect for him as he managed his way down the stairs. I was tempted, really tempted, to just scream that he failed when I saw him sitting at that last step in fear of being reset.

I had seen him grasp the sides of the stairs for support when he had initially fallen but this hope didn't let me call him out on it. If he really was Samuel reborn, then I didn't want to waste his life by keeping him here. But he still would have to try to beat my puzzles. That one act of looking away was all he was getting from me. I prepared myself for this next challenge as Nick finally came down from the attic level to the first level, where we had first met.

One of the few things people run from is having their crimes and mistakes thrown in their face. There are some who take it all in but most choose to just avoid any meeting that might cause them such pain and humiliation. Now, without a way for Nick to escape what he deserved, it was time for him to face his mistakes. By now, I realized that he was beginning to settle in the quiet and relax and I struck out at the perfect timing.

"LIAR!" He jumped in the air as I literally screamed, invisibly of course, in his right ear. He turned and began to look around for me as his face drained of colour in realizing the challenge of this place. "THIEF!" "TRAITOR!" "LIAR!" "CHEATER!" "CRIMINAL!" I kept shouting at him as I circled around him and he flinched with every one of them.

By the time I screamed "BETRAYER!" in which I let out more emotion than I should have, in his ears, he had his hands over his ears, trying to block my screams and the accusations in them. And then he spoke words that made me pause before I screamed more words.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He didn't sound confident now. Nor did he sound scared. He was just resigned now and his voice made me feel like his spirit was broken. And as I realized this, my mind accepted that I might have played too far in this game. In that moment, though, a memory came to the forefront.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Samuel apologized behind me as I ran away in front of him and his horse, Shadow, on my horse, Daffodil. I didn't bother responding to them as I feared that if I spoke that very instant, the words that would come out of me wouldn't be ladylike. In fact, I had a feeling that the choice of words that I was feeling quite compelled to use at him would have made even the crudest sailor blush. And knowing quite a few of them by sneaking out to the docks with Samuel, I was certain this was no exaggeration.

It was quite some distance before I controlled myself enough to be able to speak like how I should. Even then the venom was obvious in my voice. "What are you apologizing for Samuel? Because I can tell you with no doubt that there are a lot of things you should be apologizing for." He opened his mouth to speak but I continued over. "Should I consider this apology for behaving like a low-class worker when I took you to one of my friend, Selena's fourteenth birthday? For not considering once that you being there represented not only yourself but me, my father and most importantly, your father? Or should I consider this apology for you disrespectfully taunting and then getting into a brawl, as if you were in a filthy bar instead of an elegant ballroom, with her future betrothed? For not realizing how humiliating it was when other girls were gossiping openly about how I had brought this uneducated savage in their midst with no respect for my father?" The list was longer but that was as far as I managed to speak before anger overpowered me again and I took off at a speed faster than that Daffodil had ever run at. All I could think of was the tears in my friend Selena as she told me in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to see me anytime soon and how displeased her mother, Mrs Templeton, had looked as we had left while he still flung socially unacceptable words at her daughter's future fiancé.

Which is why she got tired very quickly and he caught up with me, much to my displeasure. Then he repeated his words to me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you, your father or my father. I am sorry you were humiliated and all the other things you felt because of me." He spoke softly as he drew my tear-stained face towards him with his index finger on my chin. Then, as he began to wipe my tears – an action that would most certainly invite more disrespectful gossip by others if seen but which none in my family was concerned about – he spoke again and this time his voice was hard in anger. "What I do not, and will not apologize, is for starting that fight. That rich... unpleasant person deserved it. Despite being, as you just informed me, chosen to be betrothed to your friend, he was making very crude suggestions about all of the girls. And he did it in his pompous and arrogant way because he knew he was as respected as royalty in that room. Instead of using that respect for humility, he made comments about every single girl in the room while being in earshot of their guardian brothers or friends.

You may have seen it as a humiliating event and I apologize for that but let me assure you, those other men who heard him and were unable to act because of social concerns were very glad and seemed respectful towards me as I had finally left that useless being on the ground. He didn't even get a punch on me. I care about you and I wouldn't let anyone disrespect you ever." He had had a look in his eyes that I couldn't recognize as he finished speaking and I looked at him in wonder.

And so, in our unspoken ways, he was forgiven and we both returned for him to have severe scolding by my father. It was the second last straw before my father made him enlist in the army.

And it would be years later, after his death, that I would look back upon that moment and realize that he had looked at me like several times in my life and it was a look of love. Not one between siblings, but one between lovers. And I had cursed myself as I had cried for never realizing it sooner.

And now, as he spoke those very same words to me, a flood of all the emotions came over me and instead of stopping, I kept screaming even louder in his ears. He flinched as I kept screaming at him. I still don't know when I stopped screaming at Nick and began screaming at Samuel. In that moment of blind rage, the two of them were the same to me. It took me quite some time to calm down and realize that Nick was now on the floor with his limbs pulled as closer as he could while he cried and softly chanted the words at nobody in particular.

And then guilt tore into me as I remembered that this wasn't Samuel. He was dead now. This was Nick and he hadn't deserved this outburst from me. I finally asked him a question I honestly wanted to know the answer to. "Are you really sorry?" And then, I lost control of my form again and felt myself solidify in front of him. He looked up and flinched at my expression. I would have too because I knew that in that instant I showed him exactly how I felt.

"I'm sorry. I really am." He apologized in a whisper and I treasured that moment, though I have no idea why. After being dead for so long, I had learned to recognize the true feelings behind the words people whisper and I knew that Nick Demming Peters may be many unsavoury things, but he was not one who played with people's emotions for personal gain without letting it hurt himself as well. And so, he was forgiven.

Wanting one last embrace from Samuel, even though it was only a body that looked like his and wasn't really him, I sat down on the dusty floor and leaned into his arms. He was wary but he didn't hesitate or deprive me of what I sought. His strong arms settled around me and I felt a feeling of contentment flow through me after one century. It was so powerful that I couldn't stop the tears that erupted.

I don't know why I cried. Maybe I cried mourning the love between me and Samuel that was never realized. Maybe I mourned my own death. Maybe I mourned his heartbroken death. Or maybe I just mourned that I hadn't had this contentment for so long, not even by my fiancé when I was alive. And it didn't matter. I was here, in pretend-Samuel's arms, and it was enough. He offered me his shoulders and made soothing noises as I cried but never complained once. It must have been uncomfortable and awkward but there wasn't even a peep.

By the time I was done, I had two powerful realizations. One was that it was time to move on. I had no one to stay in this realm for, though I didn't know how I would leave. And the second was that Nick didn't deserve the pain of this place. In fact, if I was being honest, I could confess that a part of me belonged with the boy who held me as I fell apart even though I had just tried to make him suffer badly. Samuel would have really liked this boy. Maybe that's why he chose to be reborn as a part of this boy.

I tried to let him leave but at the guilt in his eyes, I changed my mind. Samuel would have taken it as a personal affront, even though it was a favour, and I suspected so would this Nick. Still, I couldn't let him suffer long. So I waved a hand and my precious necklace appeared in front of us. He gasped at surprise at what I offered him and felt a longing from him. And this surprised me because this longing wasn't to leave. It was a longing to stay. He moved to grasp the necklace and I reminded him, "Remember to return it to me in order to leave." And then, using whatever energy I could gather, I disappeared once again and ran to where I had to be next. I liked him enough to let him leave but that didn't mean that I was letting him leave with my precious necklace.

I held the door knob and called out to him. "Hurry Nick. Time is of the essence." Those words shook him out of whatever thoughts he was in and he hurriedly came down the stairs. I gave up the control that held my invisibility and became visible once again. Nick almost ran towards the door but stopped just at the gate.

I looked at him in surprise as he turned and put the necklace around my neck, even adjusting my hair to place it properly by bending very close to me, a lot more than what was necessary or appropriate. If I wasn't dead, I would have blushed at this intimate action. But he didn't back down from his position even as his fingers left the necklace and whispered in my ear. "My sincere thanks for this wonderful gift of freedom and of trust to let me hold your beloved necklace. I apologize for all the pain and trouble I caused. Goodbye, Daisy McCain."

I stuttered, an unbelievable event, as I finally managed to speak out, "Yo-You too Nick De-Demming Peters. You too." He leant back and smiled at me. It was so pure that I felt bad. His smile seemed so bright that it lit up his entire face and if I put a dead plant in his view, I suspected it would have been revived. Then he turned and walked through the doorframe.

Only he couldn't. When he hit an invisible wall at the doorframe, I felt my eyes fill with tears. Realization set in as Nick's face was full of fear when he turned to me. He didn't need to speak. I knew. Steeling my heart against leaking any emotion, I spoke in a controlled voice. "Nick Demming Peters, dawn approaches. Your allotted time is over and you are stuck here with me until the day I leave this place."

With that, the door shut closed and all the windows were barricaded with wooden planks. And I pretended my heart didn't break at the ashen expression on Nick's face. I didn't want to say it but I needed to do something to force him out of his shock, even if he might hate me for it.

"Welcome to your new house, Nick. I hope you enjoy your stay of next fifty years."
Chapter 6

Nick's POV

It hurts the most when something you were about to attain is snatched away from you. I never really understood how one would let this happen to themselves. But as I stared at the door that stopped me from leaving, I finally understood. In one moment, I had lost my freedom. There were sounds all around me and I saw Daisy move her mouth and try to speak something but nothing penetrated. All I could see was the now closed door in front of me that had denied me my whole life just because I delayed a few moments.

Like all things, the shock went away but it left behind guilt and anger. Directed at who? I have no idea. Maybe at myself. For delaying. For caring about her to make that delay. Maybe at her. For choosing this punishment. For not warning me properly. For letting me get stuck in here. Yes, that was it. I wasn't angry at her or myself. I was angry at both of us. The guilt needed no target. Every wrong act I had done today was more than enough to make me an unescapable mark.

I turned to look at Daisy and she looked sad as she stared at me. At her pity, anger rose within me. "You look so sad. If you are done faking it, would you mind getting back to your celebratory mood? If I have to stay here for fifty years, then I might as well know the true colours of my house-mate." She flinched, in pain and shock, as my words hit her but I didn't care. So I offered her a choice. "Open the door, Daisy." I growled at her. "LET. ME. GO! I WANT TO GO!"

She paled in my anger and opened her mouth to speak. She didn't even need to speak. I saw her entire posture radiate her helplessness. Still, I gave her a chance to try to make amends. "I get what you are feeling. I understand it. But that act took a lot of my power. I can't even control my form now. I really didn't want you to be stuck here. Nick! Where are you going? Nick!" She screamed at my back as I walked away from her.

"Don't follow me!" I screamed back at her and kept moving. A loud annoyed huff escaped me and I wished the ghost wasn't a girl or that I wasn't beginning to like her because I wanted to beat someone up really badly. But I never could raise my hand on a ghost. So I chose to walk away and heard the angry noises my shoes made as I tried to let the old manor have my anger. If I was thinking, I would have been careful. One of my angry hard step fell on a rotten floorboard and I heard Daisy scream as I fell down into the darkness.

For a moment, I assumed the idea that maybe Daisy had created the rotten floorboard in anger but when it didn't repair itself, I realized that this was my fault. And as I looked around the almost dark basement around me, a strange fear began to fill me. Fear of the unknown. And then I heard it. A sound that made my blood freeze in the veins. And then, to my horror, the sounds began to multiply. Double. Triple. Thirty times. A hundred times. Then I saw one come into my visibility.

A rat. I jumped back. One rat wasn't scary. One hungry rat wasn't scary either. But one hungry rat along with hundreds of its relatives in a haunted house where there was no food so they likely ate meat? That was very scary. These rats could be carnivorous. So I did the only sensible thing I could do. I screamed. "Daisy! Help!" I really should have thought this through.

Before I was done screaming, she came in front of me. Her 'glad-you-are-okay-after-that-idiotic-move' face immediately changed into a horrified one as she saw the rats and screamed. "Rats!" And very helpfully, she disappeared. That wasn't sarcasm. She disappeared and the spooked rats ran away in fear of what they couldn't understand. Um. Awkward. And then my mind finally cracked. It began with snort and then turned into a full-blown laughter as I realized what had just happened. Oh God, it was the stuff of cartoons. A woman scaring away rats with her scream.

The small light coming from above dimmed a little as a translucent head peeked in. "Are you okay?" Her voice was still spooked and I couldn't help the laughter that erupted once more. All the anger and guilt was now forgotten as I held my stomach while laughing. "That wasn't funny!" She spoke as she appeared in front of me in an annoyed tone.

It took me several minutes before I controlled myself enough to speak. "Yes. Yes, it was. Think about it. Your scream scared away the hundreds of rats." I ducked as she tried to slap me for being so rude and I began laughing again. Once this wave of laughter ended and I was trying to control any further laughter, she spoke in a peeved voice.

"Do you want to leave this basement or not?" I nodded and she moved her hand to light up the basement. Someone must have wired the entire place for modern electrical appliances because several electric bulbs, that seemed new even though they were covered with a thin layer of dirt, lit up. The sight before me froze me and I felt Daisy stiffen as well as she noticed the surroundings. And through some sixth sense, I felt her disappear from my side as I stared at the hundreds of black fat mice all around me. In the light, they were even scarier. I wished she had screamed again.

At least the door to the basement was in sight and though it seemed rusted, I was fairly certain that I might be able to pull it open. Just then, Daisy appeared above the hole holding a stinky but surprisingly fresh piece of cheese. And then she whistled. Just what kind of ghost is she? I felt my eyebrows rise and hide somewhere in my hairline as I and all the rats turned to her. She, in a moment of surprisingly extreme foolishness, threw that piece of cheese at me. "Catch!"

The first belated thought that occurred to me was I wish I couldn't catch as the entire mouse family turned towards me with hungry eyes. "Idiot! Throw it behind you!" She hissed at me and I immediately followed instruction. And then I yelped as the hundred mice that were in front of me ran towards the cheese which was already being fought over in the back. The seriously disgusted feeling of feeling rats go over my feet almost made me sick but I controlled myself and ran, taking care not to kill a rat which might make them all focus on me – their living food who was escaping, towards the door. Before I could grab the handle, the door opened and I managed to control myself in screaming 'ghost'. Even she would have agreed it was a little too late for that. Her head peeked out like she was scared of eaten – forgetting she is already dead! – and whispered at me. "Hurry!"

Feeling glad to obey this safe decision, I followed her and both of us were out of that terrible room. And with complete seriousness, I told her a true fact. "You need a dynamite to take care of those rats. Did you see their size?" I slid to the floor against the door. Then I heard a giggle escape from someone above me. I sharply looked up and saw that she was trying hard to control her laughter. Considering I had just laughed at her and the situation really was hilarious, I felt my own lips smile as I told her. "Go on. There is no need to hide it." She finally let it all out and I was struck breathless as I heard her laugh, her true laugh, for the first time.

Nightingales? Nah. Wind chimes? Nope. It was her voice that sounded me like the most pleasant music I ever heard. I could never get tired of hearing her laugh. It felt refreshing. I felt an honest smile grace my face as she laughed. It was like basking in sunlight after a long stay in the dark.

Or it was until she began to snort. It was cute. It was embarrassingly hilarious. It was also a mood-killer as it brought forth two things at once. Her laughter stopped as she looked away in shame while I began to laugh. Teasingly, she said, "Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. Like you don't snort." I didn't respond. I couldn't. So I didn't tell her that on her it was very cute and amusing.

And then she crouched in front of me and the laughter died a surprised death and I inhaled a sharp breath. She leaned in and reached her translucent hand towards me. But she didn't touch me. I moved my eyes from her outstretched hand to her face and I controlled my gasp at what I saw. Pain. Loss. Longing. Regret. Then in a voice so low that I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear her, she spoke. "You remind me so much of him. Your behaviour, your actions, your words. It hurts to see you. But it also soothes me to have you in my company. I know why it hurts. But why does it soothes?" And she faded away in front of my eyes in that same position.

I sat still because I knew she was as well. We could have been in that way forever but the moment broke when the carnivorous rats began to rub against the door on which I sat against on the other side. I felt her move when it broke and then she was gone. I too heeded the wisdom of her actions and ran upstairs, emerging into the old eastern parlour. Once I found my way back into the main hall of the mansion, curiosity rose within me. But first, I felt a need to find my new dead house-mate. The thought was now filled with resignation and acceptance instead of anger and guilt. Guess that visit to the rats helped me get through those feelings.

I made my way back to her room, this time with a lot more confidence than the last time – after all what was the need? She knew my secrets, I somewhat trusted her and we were now house-mates for the quite a long time now – and found that it was locked. I gently knocked on the door and asked her. "Daisy, are you inside? Can we talk?" When there was no response from within, I continued. "Daisy, I need to apologize for the way I talked to you. I was controlled by my emotions and I lashed out at you. I'm sorry." When there was still no response for a few moments, I turned around to go back downstairs into one of the parlours to find a relatively clean place to sit and jumped when I saw a large moose head trophy so close in front of me that our noses could have touched. Then I took a few steps and pressed myself against the door and called out to Daisy while staring at the moose head that hung mid-air. "Daisy? Nice pet. Would you mind calling it off?"

There was no response from behind me. But the moose head dropped and I heard the girl's laughter fill the place. Remember when I said it was refreshing? I take it back. It was actually annoying. Then her voice came from in front of me. "Oh goodness, you should have seen your face. Such a priceless expression. I wish I had one of these modern cameras to capture it. So hilarious." I counted from one to ten, to let her have her moment, before I interrupted her.

"Are you done? I actually wanted to talk when I came here. And would you mind becoming visible? This invisibility is kind of disturbing when you think about it." There was long silence of several moments, so long that I could have suspected her gone. But I knew she wasn't because of some sixth sense that made me feel her presence even if she wasn't close to me. Then she released an annoyed huff and I realized that she hadn't been joking when she said she couldn't control her form anymore. "You can't, can you? I wanted to talk to you, to know about you. Would you mind telling me about yourself?"

Her voice was now sad, raising a protective feeling inside me, as she spoke. "My life was a short one, Nick. I lived and was about to be married on the day after I was murdered. All this while, I never knew the truth about the feelings I had for a childhood friend of mine." Wow. Talk about a soap opera. "What else would you like to know?"

"You are going to explain about your life to me. But I also want to know about your afterlife. Why did you become a ghost? What powers do you have? Why are you losing control over your form? Will you live forever?"

"So many questions, so little time." She murmured in a low voice before continuing. "Let us take seat in the eastern parlour then. There I will tell you about everything." With that I felt her leave me alone on the first floor corridor. I cautiously made my way back to the parlour room and as soon as I entered, I saw that the room seemed to have gone through a partial restoration.

The light bulbs glowed in their sockets and every surface of the room was clean. It was obviously impossible to restore the walls but she did such a great job of re-decorating the room that I couldn't even notice the walls. Little items, like photos, paperweights, and other things that could be safely kept aside for long-term storage were decorating the room. "How..." I couldn't even finish the question at no one in particular when I saw her.

She was visible once more and she sat in a perfect posture on one of the plush chair that had been covered with white cloth the last time I was in here, which was about five minutes ago. "Come on, Mr Peters. Please take a seat."

As I took a seat, I realized like the rest of the room, she too had gone through a partial restoration. Her behaviour was strictly controlled, as it would have been preferred for a woman in her times. Her face was a blank canvas and her clothes had changed from the night-dress into one that she probably wore while going out with friends.

Her skin was still translucent but my attention didn't remain on it. She wore a cream-coloured dress that looked absolutely beautiful on her. For the first time, I felt that maybe people of that time had something to enhance a beauty of a woman. It wasn't that I minded what a present-day girl wore (or didn't wear) but Daisy's dress was like a vision of angel realized. Or maybe it was just the girl.

She looked at me with her expression calm and her eyes haunted by the past and spoke, "Let's begin then."
Chapter 7

Daisy's POV

"1900's were a different period, a different life even, than the one you live in. There is no doubt when I can tell you that it would be near impossible for one person of either generation to try to settle into other. There was a whole different types of clothing, mannerisms and sources of entertainment. There were no cars or modern electric trains. The air was cleaner, but not much, as coal was major source of energy for any work. Girls were supposed to behave in a 'civilized' way, which is snobbishly in modern terms while living under the harsh eye of society. There was a lot of backstabbing and gossiping and even one small slight was enough to ruin family reputation. The men on the other hand were supposed to work in clean socially favourable jobs in the day. Society didn't care if these supposedly 'gentlemen' later into eve-teasing hooligans. It was a really sexist period. I always knew about all these things but I didn't care. It often gave my father a bit of a headache with me but his position of power, as a wealthy merchant, helped him. We had many servants, including a stablehand, Mr Cullingham, and he had a son, my best friend Samuel." A sharp intake of breath breaks me out of the reverie as I turn to stare at Nick who stares at me in shock with his face pale as death. I haven't even begun and he is already shocked so severely. Poor kid. "Nick, our way of speaking was often different. We used words you folks wouldn't. To help you understand though, I would just switch words, alright? Now..." I added with a sharp glance at him. "... don't interrupt me."

With that, the words that hung in the air around me consume me and I remember all those memories of the past, feeling myself go back in time to when I was alive and well. And then I begin to speak. But I hear no words. Because I live these memories that I haven't revisited for so long even as I narrate them to Nick.

"Careful, Samuel!" I warn him before a startled yelp escapes my mouth as I stare at the eight year old stupid boy climb the exterior of the house with only his bare hands and almost slip to death. I mean, he didn't even ask for help by anyone. Even I was smart enough to know he would need help. Stupid boys.

"Princess, if you disturb me one more time, I will jump willingly." He warned me and I was tempted to push his buttons a little more. Knowing him, though, I knew he would jump just to spite me and considering that he was almost at attic level of the house, I doubted he would survive without something to cushion the fall. After seeing me quiet, he added just to make his point. "Now let me get the little bird from the roof that you wanted to save." He put extra emphasis on 'you', pointing out how it was for me.

"Yeah, like it isn't without a cost." I mutter just loud enough for him to know I spoke but not understand the words. He turns his head sharply to glare at me and I send him a sweet smile. He shakes his head at my action. Good, he knows it is fake. The fake smile melts into real excitement as he finally reaches the bird at the roof. He mutters something at it, something I doubt is positive about me, as he carefully settles it on his right arm. And then he starts the even slower descent downwards.

There are moments when just when you think the dangerous act went well without an issue when something bad happens. In this case, it was the arrival of my nanny, Mrs Collins. "Ms McCain, it is time for your lessons now." Her voice was nasal and Samuel often made fun of her. Those two didn't get along ever. He spoke a word so crude that I stared up at him in shock. How did the Lord not strike him down right then? Mrs Collins noticed that my gaze was not on her anymore and continued as she walked towards me. "Pray tell me, what are you staring at up there – Oh my! HELP!" She screamed as she saw him trying to climb down from the window sill of the first floor and he fell. I screamed as well when he fell on his side and I heard a sickening crack.

I imagined several grotesque scenes when he screamed in pain and none of them were helping me dispel the faint feeling I was having. Chef Mason and Mr Cullingham came running from the kitchens and the stables respectively as they heard us all screaming. Mr Cullingham spoke something in a low voice that I didn't catch and immediately turned to help Samuel. Mr Mason turned to us and asked in a worried voice. "Are you two alright?" We responded with simple 'yes' before he escorted us inside the house.

"Daisy, wait!" Samuel called out and offered something with his right, and well, arm. The injured bird. I carefully took it from him and entered the house. I had a feeling there were a lot of things Mrs Collins wanted to say about Samuel but didn't speak only out of respect to Mr Cullingham. Being an adult seemed to mean becoming cold and unfeeling towards others.

There would be severe reprimands later. There would be a treatment for his broken right arm. And the warning of being enlisted in the army later in the future would be raised for the first time. But I wouldn't know about these until much later. That entire later, as Mrs Collins fruitlessly tried to teach this little four year old girl some manners of a hypocrite society, she only followed the motions while her mind whirled with the thoughts of the young stable boy who got injured while saving her bird only for a piece of pie. And it was the birth of our friendship. What I never knew until much later, was that it was also the birth of our unspoken love.

Seasons passed and we grew up. Our friendship strengthened as well and the entire staff knew about the friendship between the two of us. Not many people liked this but none told us off, only instructed us on how to carry things out in public so that father's name won't be stained in the society. From the way my friends behaved when we talked about the lower-class folk, there was always an ugly sneer on their faces. I knew they wouldn't approve of my friendship and so I hid it from them too. It was one of the first lessons of life I learned: keeping secrets and lying to others. I never realized I was lying to myself as well about what he meant to me. And so began my double-life. One a social one, in which I behaved like a woman of my stature was supposed to behave, and the other a private one, in which I was true to myself and my friendship with Samuel. Often the two collided and Samuel understood when I chose my social life above my private life. But I also didn't miss how he often looked hurt and determined and tried as much to stop the two from mixing as I could. But one can't stop the cruel games fates play. And the two collided once again severely on the fourteenth birthday of my best friend Selena Gibson.

"Such a beautiful decoration, isn't it Samuel? I would love to have one just like this for mine too." I pointed out the wonderful flower decorations that were hung in a line along all the walls. The ballroom was decorated with clothes made of purple velvet and her mother seemed to have hired even a huge group of trained people to make it all feel authentic. Selena's desire was to have a ball on her birthday and so I had dressed in a sapphire blue gown with beautiful embroidery in the lower half. On my arm was Samuel, dressed in a well-fitting tuxedo. It had been quite an effort to convince him to dress in one to accompany me and another one to teach him how to dance. Then it had taken me an hour to convince father and Mr Cullingham to agree to him taking me there. I had met Nathaniel Lorns, Selena's betrothed, before and was uncomfortable to be there without a comforting presence. Still, I couldn't help but wish that I would be able to keep an eye on Samuel to ensure our facade didn't slip.

The lie about Samuel not being a servant but a son of a respected merchant was the main reason behind his ire and it was just. But he wasn't willing to let me go alone after I confessed my intentions of wanting his company here. And now, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "For you, princess." He whispered in a low voice as we re-joined after I handed over my wrap to one who was attending the arriving guests. "I would have something much special than a simple ball. Because you deserve much more than this." I giggled and whispered 'charmer' at him and he smiled. He was old enough to be married but for some reason, he wasn't yet. Selfishly, I was glad that I had my friend to myself. With that grin and his behaviour, when he bothered to control himself, and his looks, he was one a lot of ladies, even those who were vain because of their family wealth, would have wished to be wedded to. I was reminded of this fact when I saw several intrigued female heads turn as we passed them.

"Happy birthday, Selena." I wished her when I found her and hugged her. As she smiled, her eyes turned to Samuel and I saw interest in her eyes. An unfamiliar but ugly feeling rose within me as I saw the look she gave him. It was one which made it clear that she would like to have him as hers. I was going to remind her of Nathaniel when Samuel responded. Taking her hand in his right, he placed a gentle kiss on the hand and wished her happy birthday with a compliment thrown in. I frowned at the rise of the sudden well-bred gentleman from the usually crude boy until he squeezed my hand with his left and I realized I was frowning.

"Selena, this is Samuel Cullingham, an old friend of mine. Samuel, this is Selena Templeton, my best friend." That interest faded as the introductions ended and I noticed a strange stiffness in her posture. Giving us a smile that I knew was fake, she left us after telling us to enjoy and giving me a strange look. Then she hurried quickly to another group of people and began to talk with them but her stiff posture didn't relax. I didn't get to comment on this as Mrs Templeton arrived shortly after her daughter's odd departure and the tedious business of socializing started all over again.

After she left, with an interested look in her eye about Samuel, he bent and asked me, "Does this friend of yours, Selena, know about me?" I nodded and his entire posture stiffened. "She recognized me." He spoke slowly and the meaning suddenly set in. I had shared my secret with her and now we were in her party where she obviously didn't like his presence. I felt my trust shatter in her as I remembered how she had casually remarked not caring about the social status but now she didn't even seem to act like we existed here. I saw her talk to Mrs Templeton and Nathaniel and had a bad feeling about this. Mrs Templeton looked over at us at one point and her displeasure was clear on her face. Nathaniel's look was much more disgusting though. He looked excited, and not in a good sense. "I will join you later. I don't trust that 'betrothed' of hers." He almost spat out that word like it was trash and I agreed with him.

Feeling sad about my decision to bring Samuel here, I mingled in the crowd, where all were fake and shallow. At least that's what I thought until I ran into someone on the way to grab Samuel from a conversation with Nathaniel. I had a feeling that it wasn't going to end well. "Pardon me." We both spoke at the same time and I looked up to see at the boy who I had crashed with while I felt a hand go around me to keep me from falling.

He was a half a foot taller than me, even on my heels, I noted immediately, before realizing that his black eyes were on me with a serious expression. I felt my heart skip a step as this gentleman in front of me suddenly received all of my attention. His brown hair was a little mussed up, in contrast with his completely well-groomed appearance, and I couldn't help but realize how good it looked on him. A moment later, or at least I think it was, those serious black eyes relaxed in an amused state as he asked me, "We aren't statues, you know. You can try standing up."

With a blush, which I never did, I realized that his arm was the only thing holding me from falling and I straightened myself. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." I apologized while hiding my eyes from his so he wouldn't realize how sharply I was attracted to him. Though I suspected my rising blush wasn't helping me. My mind went momentarily blank as I stared at him and realizing I was being rude, I introduced myself. "Hello, my name is Daisy McCain. I'm Selena's friend."

"I'm George Templeton, her cousin. It is a pleasure to meet you. You look absolutely gorgeous." His voice was a little deeper than the rest of the folks and I have to admit it was attractive. He looked about my age but I hadn't even heard about him before. Most likely seeing the confusion evident on my face, he continued, "This is my first visit to this town and Selena. I don't think she even remembered me." It was followed with a small chuckle. I blame temporary insanity for what came next.

"I would remember you." I immediately responded and then covered my mouth with both of my hands as I realized what I just spoke. A blush graced my cheeks again as his eyes danced in amusement. "I- I meant that I won't forget a family member." I hastily corrected but it was already too late.

"So Ms McCain, is that man who escorted you here your betrothed? Isn't he a little old for you?" He pointed out and my mind went blank as I tried to remember who brought me here. Thus I spoke the first thing that came to my mind.

"Oh no. I am not betrothed to anyone. He is just an acquaintance. I'm not interested in him." I spoke before I realized two things. One was that this time Samuel had escorted me to this party instead of some random social acquaintance who would annoyingly try to win my heart and how I had just insulted him. Second realization was that he stood just behind me as I felt his entire body lock tight in shock. Before I could even turn, he left from behind me.

"I apologize for causing any trouble. It seems I hurt something between the two of you." He spoke as he stared at retreating Samuel and my distressed expression and his apology sounded sincere. He was just about to continue when there was suddenly some screaming from behind me and I turned to see Samuel in a fist-fight with Nathaniel. As the two began to trade punches, they kept running into expensive pieces of decoration. It wasn't the worse though. Nathaniel, emboldened by Samuel's lack of control, now shouted his taunts so everyone could hear.

"You are a servant and you do not belong among us." "Your kind deserves to be squashed." "Does she know what kind of thoughts you have for her? The thought that would land you in jail." "Even now, you resort to your uncivilized self. Once a servant, always a servant."

Samuel wasn't behind in taunting him either but he didn't shout them out loud. Still from the gasps and shocked looks, it was obviously not good. It was humiliating as the other guests now talked openly about me and him. Tears filled my eyes as I saw Samuel ruin not only his tuxedo but also my father's reputation with it. Someone cleared his throat from behind me and I realized that George was seeing this sight as well. Humiliation now began to turn into anger while he asked me, "Do you want me to break the fight up?"

"Yes please." I snapped at him and I immediately felt bad. So I added in a soft voice. "Be safe." And so he walked towards the two of them. I didn't know about Nathaniel but Samuel was definitely going to have his ear bitten off with at least several weeks of punishment. I turned as a flash of pale brown caught my attention to see Selena walking over to me, her eyes full of tears and her anger clear on her face. The damage was already done but I tried. "Selena, I..."

"Will leave." She finished and her voice shook with anger. "With that uncivilized lower class, you 'will' leave this place and me alone." She stressed the word 'will' and then she sharply whispered to me. "How could you? How dare you bring a servant in my party? How dare you disrespect my family like that?" I opened my mouth to speak but she raised her hand to stop me and continued. "I can't even look at you without feeling ashamed for ever calling you a friend. So just leave if you want none of this to affect our families' business anymore." She turned just in time for George to break the fight and I saw her take care for her betrothed while insulting Samuel even more. Feeling my anger surpass all control, I left the place as quickly as I could, without a glance backwards to see how others were reacting. With Mrs Templeton's glare and Selena's hateful looks, I had seen all I could bear. If I was being honest, I didn't want to see what George thought of me.

That was the last time I was ever invited to a social function because of who I was. All future invitations were because of what I was. A rich father's daughter. A noble's daughter. The girl who people gossiped about behind her back. I forgave Samuel because he really was a close friend and though things weren't back to normal, they were well enough.

Then one day, Samuel tried to punish me for some stupid prank by setting me on a panicked horse in fun. We both knew it wasn't serious but to father, it was the last straw. He was enlisted in the army. It was the year 1913, just a few months short of the dawn of the Great War, as we called the First World War then. I was heartbroken at the loss and lashed out at everyone. A part of me knew though that the real reason I lashed out was because I didn't stop my father. I didn't try to save him. And he knew this. The lie that held our friendship together broke as I accepted that I acted selfishly because I was still angry at him for the Selena's birthday incident. We never talked again. By lashing out, I punished myself.

When Samuel left, I closed myself from the society, mourning the death of our friendship in isolation. But there was one man who was still interested in me. It was six months later, in April of 1914, when George came at the entrance of my house, to ask my father for a chance to take me to dinner. I was there. My father didn't want me to go as he knew that I might offend him as well. But George insisted. It was on the third date, as we later called it, that I finally lowered my guard enough to try letting him in again.

"Why do you seek my company again and again even when I am not the best company you could have?" I asked him as we strolled through the park. By some luck, we were on a deserted section of the park with enough trees to hide us from the sight of any who might be watching.

"Because I know that you are good company, even though you don't believe so about yourself. I remember that girl from the party. The amusing, beautiful person who was so full of life that she couldn't bear to hurt anyone." I doubted he was sane if he somehow thought that of me. I told him that. My isolation had stripped all layer of social etiquette out of me. He, not taking offense as usual, had laughed and responded. "Some things you know just by paying attention, not by words. You clearly mourn your loss of friendship with the boy, as your father reluctantly shared with me yesterday. Trust me, if even a little of what your father told me is true about the two of you, he forgave you a long time ago." The words were like an unstoppable weapon and all my guards fell apart at his attack.

I spent the rest of that date crying in his arms. He didn't mind this, telling me that I hadn't mourned another man in his arms. I had mourned for what I had become because of what others spoke and was now pure again. He consoled me that one day I would heal enough to try to restore our bond. And I knew that the attraction that held me to him was now love. My father was concerned, to say the least, when we returned and he saw my tear-stained face but I felt reborn. I had hope for a better future now. But the most important thing was that I now felt pure. Knowing Samuel would want me to be happy, I decided to try to get that happiness and began trying to build a life for me with George.

Almost three years later, once we were old enough to be married, he asked for my hand in marriage from my father. It was the happiest day of my life and I only mourned that I couldn't share it with my best friend. But it was too late for reconciliation. We had left the ties broken for too long. Now, there was no hope left. The Templetons welcomed me back in their life with some reservations. Selena was married with Nathaniel and told us that she was content. But I often caught looks of misery on her. Perhaps, Samuel had been right all those years ago when he apologized to me that Nathaniel wasn't a good person. I wished to intervene but I had no right to. So I joined the rest of the Templetons in their unspoken suffering.

Then came the ill-fated night of my wedding eve. The bride and the groom do not see their faces before the wedding once the last night begins. Selena, along with her friends, stayed at my house to make sure of that. I didn't want any bad luck so I wasn't going to anyway but to please them, I agreed to have them. When I slept that night, I didn't realize that hatred can grow over time with the help of those who nurture it. I didn't know that it can transform into a different form. One that made the person fear the future. To make them fear the future so much that they would do anything to avoid it. Even kill a girl on her wedding eve in her sleep."

I hear a gasp and it shocks me out of my reverie. After several moments of staring at the ruined parlour around me, I remember where I really am, and stare at Nick, whose face is stricken. I take a long moment to control myself before I speak once again with my voice reprimanding.

"I told you not to interrupt me, Nick Demming Peters."
Chapter 8

Nick's POV

After the story she told me, how can she expect me to stay silent? I realize I have been staring at her for some time when she snaps her fingers in front of my eyes. "You alive?" She asked me in a sarcastic voice and I hear the imaginary warning bells ringing. "What turned you into a human statue? The fact that I was murdered? Or the fact that I was going to marry someone other than my childhood love? Because the last time I checked, the both still happen very commonly. Which further implies you are an idiot and a fool for not accepting this face of your world. Be realistic."

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. After all, I have no idea how to respond this stuff. As a result of this, I respond in a way that was way off the idiocy scale. "I am sorry. Are you okay?" What does a person expect as a response when he asks someone whether the person is okay after they tell the story of their death? Someone commit me to idiot asylum.

Her eyes narrow in anger and the entire illusion of the rustic world around us fades. Somehow, she was also managing that while telling her story and I could almost believe that I was in the dawn of twentieth century myself. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. It was an idiotic thing. I swear I only said it because it was the first thing I could think of. I... Wait, I was awake an entire night. Why am I not tired at all?" I seriously need to filter what I speak. I ask while apologizing to her. I was actually going to use my tired mind as an excuse but the fact is that I don't feel tired at all.

She fakes an over-exaggerated yawn and speaks, "So you finally figure it out. I was thinking you never will. I have ensured you don't fall asleep while I tell you about my past. Because if you do..." I raise my hands in surrender. Message received. Loud and clear.

"Is it hard?" I ask and under her scrutinizing gaze, I barely resist the urge to break our eye contact. "Is it hard to look at me and remember him?" She is silent for a few moments and I finally give in to my desire to break eye contact. I stare at the room all around me. It seems that the magic that held the room somewhat true to its original glory is now dissipating. The light emitting from the bulbs is dying and the little things no longer look new but look as if they have been lying around for decades, which they have. In simple, the place was aging rapidly without Daisy's influence. I wondered if she held the house together as well. But I don't get to ask this because Daisy finally responds and I turn to see her looking at me but her eyes glazed as if she's remembering.

"Seeing you doesn't exactly hurt. It's more like a sad reminder of something I had and lost without ever realizing its value. Your looks are so much like his that if I dressed you in his clothes, even his father wouldn't have been able to identify you weren't his son." Then with a more focused look on my face, she adds dryly, "At least until you open your mouth."

I can't help the chuckle that escapes at her way of saying that. This girl has a good sense of humour. "Amen to that. I would have to only speak a word for him to catch me. But thankfully we don't have to worry about that. I can't time-travel."

"See what I meant? Of course you don't. You open your mouth and even if someone would confuse you with Samuel, they would figure you out. Though you share certain other characteristics with him as well." I open my mouth to ask what but she interrupts to add. "Don't ask. I'm not going to compliment you. I have seen how boys like you are in these modern times. I am not helping that ego grow even a bit."

"Wow." I respond with a smile. "That's a lot of words you have mastered over the years. Spent a lot of time people watching?" Her smile momentarily falters and I curse myself internally. Stupid. Why did I remind her of her long afterlife on here just when we were getting along?

"The main reason it doesn't hurt to look at you..." She continues in a subdued voice, all fun gone from her. "...is that everyone person has his or her own personality and now I can see yours. So with time, he has faded away from you. Of course, your charming personality helped a lot. Want me to list a few of your qualities?" This is not going to be good. "You are a liar, a manipulator, a cruel person with no respect of other's thoughts and feelings. And this is just the beginning of the list. Do I need to go on?" Her speech is getting faster and I have a feeling it is her tell of how much angry she is.

I quickly shake my head in a no. Then I verbalize it as well. "No, no, no. There is no need to go any further. I get your meaning. We are okay, thanks." Is she a mental case? One mood swing from wistful to funny is acceptable. But then funny to biting? And I have to last this for fifty years? Oh god, fifty years?

The reminder of my stay leads to an internal panic attack as my mind keeps shouting fifty years at the rest of me. None of it shows up on the outside though and there is a long silence as neither of us speak while being lost in our own thoughts and feelings. At least I hope so because the alternative that I can think of to explain her silence is that she plans a trick against me.

Finally the silence begins to feel suffocative and I break it with the first question that I can come up with. "Would you like to know what I thought of your story so far?" Snapping out of whatever world she was lost in, she nods and I suddenly find myself out of words. I hope that my answer doesn't result in a mood swing.

"At first, you story seemed like a tale of childhood friends growing into a happy married couple, defying the social customs. But having sort of known that the story ends with your death, there was not a hope of happy end. As you spoke, it was clear that Samuel seemed to be genuinely good judge of character and didn't seem to care about people other than you. Even your nickname was, I suppose, only used by him. But later, with the arrival of George, it became a love triangle. That is, a group of three in which one person, you, loved, both of them. It didn't become one only because you didn't realize it. If you had, all three of you would have suffered once you made your choice. Overall, it was like reading a fictional tale set in the dawn of twentieth century. I..." I freeze as I realize the words that were about to leave me were most definitely not going to help me.

"Continue." She prods me and I quickly try to come up with something less offensive. If I am right, then just like girls of present day, she wouldn't appreciate what I had to say.

"I-I, uh." I stammer and I can see her impatience growing. Can't come up with something else. I have to hope she isn't severe offended. Before she could snap at me to hurry up, and she almost does – she does need anger management therapy for that, I speak what I had to say properly. "I didn't expect your story to be so, uh, normal." She blinked in surprise. Okay. Shock isn't bad. Surprise isn't either. Then comes anger on her face and I know that she did take offense. Someone, anyone, save me. No woman, no matter how old, likes to hear that her life story was so trivial, even if she believes so as well. Seeing her anger keep rising, I hastily add the first abnormal thing I can come up with to try to placate her anger, "I was fearing more of a witch's curse or something like that." From the way her anger increases, her face blanks out of any emotion and her body tightens, I can tell that my comment back-fired.

"I lived in the twentieth century of progress." She speaks in a voice that is tightly-controlled and I can't help the flinch. "I was not born in a superstitious decade, or even century! Just because I am a ghost doesn't mean that I was cursed by a witch to stay here. I stayed here to be close to those I cared about."

I really blame my habit of being glib for what came out next. "Where are they now? Are they here as well?" I really should have kept my mouth shut. Her anger peaks at my words and the magic holding the illusion collapses completely and I look around to see that the room, and the entire house, is dying from years of disrepair. It is Daisy's efforts that has held the house together for so long.

"No, they left. I couldn't ask them to stay." She responds and I turn back to her, only to see her gone. "You really have a way with people, don't you Nick Demming Peters? You know ways to irk me that even I never knew. Well, you shall have your reward for that. It is such a shame that I had retrieved the necklace for you and never let you wander around more. But since we are already here, let us now have you solve the puzzle of this room. And then find me so that we continue."

I can feel the coldness in the room lessen a bit and I know she is gone. "I'm sorry, Daisy. I didn't mean to offend." I honestly plead to her. The last thing I want is for her to be hurt by me. I look around to figure out what the puzzle of this room is when I hear the sound of a floorboard cracking. I turn around and see that it is the one at the door towards the main entrance. Several more sounds follow and a huge gap in the floor forms at both of the entrances. Okay, this is the trap. I can't jump that far. Well maybe I can but can I take the risk?

The question has me taking a peek at what lies below and my blood freezes. No, no, no! She wouldn't. Not this. Not now. Not after that. I see beady eyes, maybe in thousands, staring back at me with a hunger that makes me wish to retreat far back into a safe corner. As if on seeing I reminded them of their hunger, all the rats try to get up to me with no success. Still, there is a chance they might make it. And that is when the third part of her challenge occurs.

It has to be her illusion. She wouldn't do this. Maybe to me but not to her own house. I mentally chant but my eyes cannot refuse what I see as the ceiling begins to crack as it starts to lower. It appears that I have at most a minute or two to make it through this one before the roof collapses on top of me.

I look around and quickly take inventory. The ten second inventory misses most of the smaller stuff but none of those are important in crossing such a huge gap. I take note of the barely accessible coat rack that seems that it would fall down into the gap on feeling even faintest of disturbance, lots of furniture that are too heavy to move in such a short time and two useless long necked broken lamps decorating two opposite but intact ends of the room.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I need a bridge to cross this gap. Picking up the coat rack – an act that takes up 20 important seconds at my incredibly careful but slow walk, I gather it with the two lamps to get a bridge and use the wires of the lamps to tie them temporarily. As I begin to position it, I realize that if I fail, both the roof will fall on me and the army of hungry mice shall have a bridge to get to me. It was already touching my hair and I had to bend my head to make sure I wouldn't be stuck.

Estimating that I have about thirteen seconds left before I have to crawl, I hurry in positioning and begin to cross the make-shift bridge. The noise of the angry mice beneath me doesn't help and I freeze several times in fear. By the time I do make it through, there isn't enough space left for me to crawl. I run as fast as possible to get away from their sudden claustrophobic feeling and there is a huge roar behind me. I turn around and see that the entire room has collapsed in itself.

Daisy's disembodied voice greets me as I stare at what was once a magnificent parlour room. "I could no longer hold the entire house together and something had to give. If you had failed, even I couldn't have rescued you. Even now the rest of the house shakes. I doubt that without attention, this place would last a year." Her unspoken words hung in the air. And you shall die with it. "Now, find me. We have much to talk about." There was another loud roar from above and I worried if the entire house was going to collapse now. "Sorry, that was the attic. There is no attic now."

Her voice is now mournful. It is clear it hurts her to let her house fall apart but then again, she wasn't supposed to be here for so long to witness all this. I wish I could comfort her somehow instead of continuing to unintentionally offend her. "I know what you wonder." She spoke sadly. "You think that what this place would be without a ghost haunting it. I wonder so myself. And I will tell you why but first you must find me." I make myself shake out the gloom that settled on me for her and make my way towards where she should be.

I make my way to the most obvious location to check. Her bedroom though is empty of her traces. Before, her room had been like no one had been here and the place was full of dust and cobwebs. But now, I can see that her magic held this room together as well. The wallpaper has peeled off in places and the furniture's wood has rotten irreparably in several places. Her bed, which had looked fine before, is now barely held together and her wardrobe's door hangs loosely at an angle. The dresser is damaged, as if someone vandalized it, and the only sign that there was ever a chair on which I sat is the sight of several rusted nails and a lot of wood dust.

I walk back from the entrance as I feel the place begin to rot around me. It seems Daisy is falling apart and the house with her. Just to be sure, I check her father's room and find a similar state of decay consuming it. Even the wood that seems to hold the windows barred appear to be rotting. Could I escape via this? Do I want to? The second question comes on the heel of the first and I am honestly scared by the 'no' that my mind shouts. After several moments of pondering, I decide not to leave yet. I wish to leave with all of my being but I deserve to hear her story as well. I don't think she ever told anyone. I hear sometimes sharing is therapeutic, I hope it is so for her too. If I didn't look like Samuel, would she have told me? How would have she behaved?

I make my way down the stairs and take a look at the rooms behind the grand stairs and to the side. The eastern side holds a path to the corridor that led to the now ruined parlour room and the kitchens. There is also a door to the basement that I avoid even touching in fear of unleashing the mice, at least those which survived. I take a look in the western side to see a badly ruined room that I suppose was once the servant's quarters. It wouldn't be wise to proceed further in the room when I doubt how long it will even exist. So I turn around and make my way to what would be the western parlour. Only it isn't and I can see where all of Daisy's efforts have gone.

It's an office, maybe her father's office. The place looks as if it was preserved in time. There are no signs of disrepair and there is even a fire going on in the fireplace. And then, I see it all flicker and disappear to see the view of what it would be without her power. A broken fireplace is what I see and as I turn around the room, I see that time has ruined the place completely. What once was a row of bookshelves along the wall is now a large lump of rotten wood that seems to have fused into that shape permanently. The majestic desk in front of me in nowhere to be seen in the present ruins and I suspect it was removed before being abandoned. But why didn't they take the bookshelves? The vision restores and I am back in the illusion world again. I momentarily worry that maybe her power is fading too fast for her to be able to keep up with all these final reminders of her home.

The seat behind the desk holds an occupant that looks completely alive in this illusion. In one of her dresses that is the colour of the sky covering her from head to toe and her hair braided, Daisy McCain doesn't look like an almost century old dead ghost. She looks like she is just about to leave for a party and a longing within me rises to accompany her. Wake up idiot! She's dead and this is all an illusion. If the period of her life wasn't sexist, I know that Daisy would have taken over her father's businesses someday and would have looked natural at it. She does so now, looking as if she's delaying her leave to deal with any last0minute crucial business issue.

I don't even notice that her lips move before I hear her. "When George's new wife left this house along with her family in fear of the ghost that haunted the house, she left behind those bookshelves. They held small portraits of the different generations of the McCain family. It was one of my last requests of theirs. My father Alexander McCain had an ancient line that ended when he, the only child of his parents and the last McCain alive, died without having another heir. Cynthia didn't want me to follow her for taking the last of my family with her. I couldn't blame her. I wouldn't have stayed either." She tells me in a voice free of any judgement and I wonder if it is so because it has been a long time to get over it or because she never held the grudge in the first place. I have a feeling that it is the second one. "Well, you found me. Ask anything you have to ask and I will answer it before continuing the story to deal with those I can't yet. Take a seat."

Just like the last time, a soft cloth comes flying from somewhere and cleans the two already clean chairs so much that I wonder if it would look completely new. "Thanks for the, uh, cleaning." She gives me a small amused smile and I relax. As I sit on one of the chairs, I feel relieved that she isn't offended anymore. After a moment of thinking, I ask one. "Why did you choose to stay here after others left?" She gives me an empty smile as she responds.

"The reason I stayed is that as you know now, I was never a social person and preferred to be with only a few friends I trusted. When George's family left this place – and I will tell you later how they came to live here – his wife wished to be left alone by the "ghost of the past". I honoured her wish and ended up with no one I cared for in a world that was changing so rapidly. The Great Depression of 1927 had just ended and things had changed. So I chose to stay in, waiting for fools of different generations to visit. And in the meantime, I held the place together." In a low voice, she adds, "At least I did until now."

"Don't blame yourself for that. The place was dying but held itself together on its last breath with your help. There was nothing you could do." I console her before adding a ridiculous suggestion. "Unless you were planning to do all the repairs to the place yourself." She gives me a dry look at my joke but I can see that her posture is a little lighter than before. "How did you pick up the words of the present day by staying here?" I have already offended her once by a similar comment. I might as well know how.

"Boredom is powerful thing Nick. I have often merged among you people in my invisible form, following people in random as they catch my fancy. I have seen how the world has changed, and deteriorated, as the decades passed."

There are several more questions that I ask and she answers most of them, deflecting a few of them with an 'I will tell you later'. Once I feel done with the questions, I let her continue the story with one final question. "Did they ever catch who was it?" She nods her head grimly, as if knowing I was going to ask this and instead of responding, stares at some fixed point on the wall above my head. Then her eyes begin to get cloudy and I know what it means. Time to continue the story. And then she responds.
Chapter 9

Daisy's POV

"No, they didn't. It was I who caught the murderer. But to understand what I mean and how it happened, I must continue from where I was interrupted. Don't interrupt me again." I waited for his nod before starting again, knowing all too well that he will interrupt me again. The memories consumed everything around me and I was once again back on the ill-fated night of April 18, 1917.

"The last night of my life was also haunted by the most troubling nightmares I ever had. In my dreams, I roamed across the ruined halls of my house. The entire place was severe damaged and I could find no clue of anyone else living in the place. Fear held a tight grip on me as I walked around the place, calling out for my father. There had been no response.

Fear is a powerful thing. When it has just the right grip, it can give some extra strength to the person. I was fuelled by this extra power as I began to run when he didn't appear. I checked every room, except mine, as the panic began to consume me. Tears now fell freely as I screamed for him. And then my feet began to walk on their own will and I was brought to the entrance of my own room. A part of me considered searching my own room foolish. After all, this is where I remembered to have started searching and surely he would have heard my screams. Still, I had no control over my body as my hands pushed the door wide open. And there he was. Dressed in his suit and trousers with his back to me, he seemed to be taking deep breaths.

With relief, I began to walk towards him and draw his attention to me but my words died on my tongue when I saw that he wasn't taking deep breaths but crying. And on the bed, I slept in my nightgown with my throat slit open. In shock, my eyes had slid open from the sleep just in time for the murderer to slice my neck with the Chef Mason's knife. The person was in black cloak and ran as soon as the deed was done. I couldn't concentrate on the person anyhow as I felt my life ebb away as the cut bled all my blood. In seconds, I was dead.

Death is a unique experience. Everyone fears it because it doesn't come alone. Death brings judgement on your existence. Every mistake – no matter how small, every crime – no matter how petty, every sin is judged and you are forced to bear its punishment. It sends its reapers to collect the souls. Mine was a faceless boy of my age, dressed in what would have been barbaric for the society. Raw animal hides covered him from neck to toe. He was bald, which normally one could ignore, but in search of an identifying trait, it was a fear-inducing one. And when he talked, he spoke in my mind. His voice was old and his speech slow, as if he had been doing this for a long time and he now grew tired. "Come on now, Daisy McCain. It is time you left this realm."

There are few things I feared in life. In death, there was nothing I dreaded more than losing those I cared for. Forgoing all dignity, I fell at his feet and begged to stay... to be with my family. He wasn't moved. He warned me that if I stayed, I won't get a chance at redemption. I would simply fade out. No rebirth, no fresh start, nothing.

There was a long moment when I doubted whether I could leave them. But fate wasn't done with me, it seems, because dawn was about to break and my father, being an early bird, loved to wake up early and had promised to rouse me early as well. His scream of shock and pain was my deciding factor and I retreated, refusing to go with him. I told him to go back wherever he came from because I wasn't leaving them alone. With that I turned away from him and began trying to make my father realize I was still here. He wasn't done with me though.

"You have made your choice and I see that it is your final one. You shall have what you desire so much but know that you will regret this choice. You shall haunt this realm as long as your soul can survive on this realm without a host." He had spoken and I had turned towards him to thank him for this gift when he continued while walking towards my dressing table. "In death, people have to forgo the things they bond with, let go of mortal ties. You have refused to do so and I am afraid you must be punished. A soul is immortal but even death isn't cruel enough to have you stuck on this realm forever. You shall fade away in a short while. A century and a half is all you shall have. And then there would be nothing for you. No paradise. No hell. No rebirth. No existence. This shall be the price for your unwillingness to let go of your mortal ties. Enjoy your end, Daisy McCain." With that, he had gone away.

I tried and I tried but I couldn't let my father know I was here. I didn't have a stable form to be visible. At least not then. And so I had to see all the people I cared about suffer at my funeral. My father. My staff. George. Samuel. Samuel had been coming back for the wedding by being away with hard-earned leave. The way his hope and determination had transformed into shock and despair had been the worst torture of them all. It also brought forth the realization that we had an unspoken and unacknowledged love between us when I saw him alone with that engagement ring and a portrait of mine in his hand while he murmured his regrets for never acknowledging the love. I couldn't even console him. He died a year later, in the end of the Great War, in the battlefield.

The entire year I spent doing only two things. One was to learn how to control my form – something that often resulted in me being accidentally sighted by the staff, raising the belief of the house being haunted, and the other was trying to solve my own murder. The officials had to give up in a month when there were no clues found. You know a myth about ghosts? That we can't leave our dwelling. I believed in it too until one day father came out of his office looking very troubled and I began to follow him without realizing that I had crossed the boundary of my home. Even now, I choose to stay in my own house by my choice, not because I can't. Once I figured this out, I was rarely at home. I spent most of my time around my favourite horses, Daffodil and Shadow. Horses loved me as a human and they didn't seem to mind my presence as a ghost either.

With them, I spent my time wondering who could have wished me gone. There were no names. Six months had passed since my death when an authority figure came to my house. He and father had a long talk, in which I stayed without them realizing, when this figure asked my father if I had been killed because of some past grudge. My father as well as I were upset by the realization that someone from my past would wish me harm so later in the future. The time I spent trying to figure out my murder was now following around people I had grudges with in the past but it was like going on a wild chase with no target in mind. That was until I literally ran into Selena one day while following one of my old friends. It was the first time I had ever run into a live human being and saw her shiver from the sudden cold. And as I stared at her, I remembered all about her fourteenth birthday.

I didn't follow her immediately, of course, as my mind refused to accept that she could even think of that. After George and I started going out as a couple, the entire Templeton family had warmed up to us and Selena had been the first one to do so. It had been pure happiness to have my friend back. It also didn't hurt that Samuel was now gone. It took me a week of musing in the stables before I finally decided that I had to treat her as a possible murderer as well. But I didn't act immediately.

It had been nine months since my death and my father's health had been steadily deteriorating ever since. Having no alive heirs of his own, he handed over all of his property to George, whose parents had died not long ago. Deciding to be closer to where I lived, he moved in to take care of the business and hired a professional nurse to take care of him.

My father had suffered the loss of his daughter and it was no small loss. But it wasn't big enough in front of the loss I saw in George's eyes. Every time he passed the entrance to my room, his steps faltered and his expression was pained. He never went out again, acting as a widower even though we weren't married. The light in his eyes were gone and I feared it wouldn't return. He was once a social person but now was becoming a recluse and I knew that he wouldn't stop until no one else cared for him. I felt an urge to talk to him, to give him closure and help him move on. And this became my determination to master my abilities.

One month later, when I was able to control my form for a few minutes, I decided to get her off my list of suspects and moved as an uninvited guest in her house. Of course, then I had the pleasure of witnessing her domestic life first-hand. Nathaniel was abusive manipulator. In front of company, he acted as a true gentleman but in the privacy of his home, his true form came out to play. I felt bad for Selena as I saw him attack her verbally several times a day and even physically when he was drunk. I had begun to learn my ability of controlling things without touching them and often tried to help Selena but it didn't end well as it simply annoyed him more.

Every night I sat by Selena's bedside as she cried silently into sleep. There were no visible bruises that she couldn't cover up with make-up and I knew something had to give before he destroyed her. There were no servants and Selena, who once refused to brush away a small piece of litter due to the fear of becoming dirty, now did what maids and servants did. It was convenient for Nathaniel who didn't have to control himself in front of anyone else. In life, I had been unfair to her by turning my eye away and pretending it didn't exist but in death, I had to help her. And so I began to work on trying to get Nathaniel so exhausted that he wouldn't even bother to berate her. Missing papers from his study where only he went into, his carriage getting damaged, random stuff disappearing from his office. Naively, I thought I was helping. Instead he burst apart and eleven months later, the mystery of my murder was solved.

"You stupid, ignorant worthless woman! What is this game you have been playing with me? You better stop before I report you to the authorities. I bet the jail would love to have you. Then again, you would probably love it, don't you?" Nathaniel barked at Selena, who cowered even while cooking. "Stop this cooking before you poison me!" He yelled and Selena immediately withdrew into the furthest corner. I opened a window facing the roadside so that maybe some passer-by would hear him and the word would spread so that someone could help.

When I saw no one approaching the open window, I left the couple alone, with hope that was dying very quickly of things ending well and ran outside. It had to be fate again because I saw George's carriage approaching the house. With a lot of effort, since this moving-things-by-thoughts wasn't easy, I steered the carriage and the horses toward the window and froze the whip mid-air before it could make a noise to alert Nathaniel. "What is the meaning of this?" George asked before stepping out. After observing the odd situation, he spoke. "Since I'm already here, I would just walk. Take care of this by the time I return." I was thinking of what further distraction to come up with to lure George to the window when a sound came that froze both of us. The sound of belt leather hitting something. Continuously.

George immediately walked towards the window and I ran inside through a wall to see exactly what I feared. This time, the bruises couldn't be hidden easily as her arms bled. And to everyone's shock, when Nathaniel raised his belt to beat her again, she moved with a lightning speed and had slit her husband's throat with a knife she had concealed in her dress before anyone of us realized what had happened.

Nathaniel's belt fell to the ground as he barely coughed the words out. "What have you done?" In that moment, Selena was no longer the meek, cowed woman but was like a woman possessed. Her voice was full of hatred when she spoke.

"What I should have done a long time ago. And I will get away with this. Like I got away with hers. That low class Daisy McCain who so clearly doted on her servant's son but still tried to marry my cousin just to spite me." Everyone froze in shock as I stared at her in disbelief. It was she? My best friend? Anger that snapped me out of shock sky-rocketed and I used my ability to turn visible for few moments.

"Hello, Selena." I spoke in a fake cheerful voice and both of their heads snapped to me in shock. I turned to Nate first and spoke. "Don't worry. You will suffer for what you did. I have been watching you. And you, Selena..." I turned to her to see her pale form drop the knife. "What a confession. It will surely blow the minds of those who believe women do nothing significant." I felt my form begin to disappear and shot my parting words to the two frozen beings. "I'm here. And I won't leave until I am done with you." My disappearance was just in time for George to burst in the house.

"Hold still! Both of you! I have sent for a doctor." George shouted at both of them. "The constable as well. Everyone deserves to know the truth about the two of you, although it seems that Nathaniel won't be getting his punishment." His face showed all he was trying to hide. Pain. Hurt. Guilt. Sadness. Disbelief.

"She's here." Selena screeched. "Daisy is here. She was just over there." George's fist clenched and I wished that Selena would keep pushing him. I wanted someone to avenge me and show her what she deserved. All that had happened in these eleven months was her fault and she deserved to be punished, a lot more than what Nathaniel gave her.

"Stop. Lying. About. Her." George spoke with clenched teeth and even I felt the underlying anger. Luckily Selena didn't speak again. It was a long wait. Nathaniel didn't make it. Selena got what she deserved. A life sentence in prison. Of course by then the news of Samuel's death had arrived and I had another reason to hate her.

Then came another delivery from the army: Samuel's personal belongings. And on the top of them were two things. That engagement ring and a portrait of mine. Rumours spread that I had cheated on my fiancé with my stablehand's boy. I was publicly criticized, even after my death. The ring and the letters of love were more than enough proof for the over-thinking staff members. But George, although hurt, didn't believe this conclusion. He read them. All of them. I remember this very clearly because I was always around him. Thankfully, my father never knew about these letters. He only knew of the ring and the portrait.

When he had finished reading the last unsent letter, he had known a lot more than I ever wanted him to know. He had known of my innocence. He had realized the true extent of my friendship with Samuel through the instances he shared in his letters. And he had been hurt that I never shared these things with him. I know this definitely because I confronted him when he was done reading the last letter Samuel ever penned.

It had been a month since Samuel's passing and I had given up hope that he had stayed behind. But in the room in front of me, George held the last things he ever wrote for me. My form wasn't stable enough to last longer than an hour but I needed those letters before he destroyed them, no matter what his intentions. But I didn't need him to pass out in shock. I had seen how he had begun to put more attention to my sightings throughout the house and I often saw him searching the house for a sign of me.

So I decided that entering via the door would be proper. It also wouldn't tell him of my invasion of his privacy. Taking a solid form, I knocked the door of what was once my father's office but was now George's. Puzzled by this sudden disturbance, he called out. "Who is it who bothers to disturb me now?" And in the moment before I responded, fear overtook me. What if I only hurt him by reappearing? How would he react? Should I have changed? That last thought was quite illogical as ever since my death, I was in my nightwear.

He must have been really impatient because while I stood there debating if I could do this, he opened the door. It was worse than I feared. His frame froze in the instant he realized it was me and his face paled of all blood. I suppose it meant he wasn't really expecting me to be still here. "Hello George. It is so good to see you again." The next thing I knew was his arms had pulled me in a hug and I responded equally. He didn't speak though, probably afraid of shattering this 'illusion'. The door behind me shut close and George's hold momentarily tightened around me at my display of such power. We remained in that position for a long time as both of us sought the peace the other person's presence granted us. I may have loved Samuel but I had also loved George and in those moments, the entire world around us faded away.

It was a crow's caw outside the window of his office that finally broke our moment. His fingers gently probed my face before he voiced the question he was probably thinking of. "Are you real? Or has my sanity finally abandoned me to my memories and desires?" In those few words, he revealed a lot about what he felt. He still loved me. My mind cried as my heart rejoiced. He hadn't moved on from loving a dead person. I had to help him move on.

"I am real George. But I am also dead. George, I love you. I always have. There may be unacknowledged something between me and Samuel but there was never a moment I lied about being with you." His body, which had tensed at the mention of Samuel's name, relaxed as I spoke. I let him accept this fact in silence and waited until he spoke.

"Is that why you came? For the letters? For the ring?" He spoke and his voice was pained. I couldn't even deny his claim, for it was part of my reason to visit him in visible form. Before I could respond, his arms slid away from me as he walked to his office table and the feeling of security he brought me faded instantly.

"Yes and no. Yes, they are a part of the reason for this visit of mine. But they aren't the entire reasons. I have seen you George. You still mourn me. It has been a year. I don't want you to just randomly marry someone else but I want you to be happy. I need you to be happy." His entire body began to shake slightly when I mentioned the word 'marry' and by the time I was done, his fists were clenched and his entire body was locked tight. Then he turned and I knew from the look of his eyes that he was angry.

"Marry someone else?" He spoke in a tightly controlled voice and I felt myself take a step back. George never got angry with anyone easily so I knew he had to be really angry to react so badly. "It has been a year to you maybe, Daisy. But I still live in that one moment when all my happiness turned into grief when I found out that my wife-to-be was dead on our wedding day. Every moment is hell because with you, a part of me died. And you come here to tell me to 'marry someone else'?"

"What do you want me to say? Mourn me forever and reject the living for the dead me? I am not alive but you are, George. You are alive. Don't choose to die because of me. I'm not worth it. No one is worth giving up your life. Because you are worth more than all of us who are now gone. Is it so wrong to wish you happiness?" We had never fought as a couple before. I never thought our first fight would be about him getting over my death.

"It is if it isn't with you!" George shouted and I felt the entire room shake. Regretting what I was about to do, I pulled out the most painful point I had.

"Remember how I was during our first two dates?" He flinched as he immediately figured out where I was heading with this. "I was heartbroken over the loss of my friendship with Samuel and I was not a good company. In fact, I was worse than terrible. I was rude, impolite, cruel version of myself but you didn't give up. It was beautiful for me. To have someone like you keep trying even when I didn't feel like letting you in my heart. Why can't you let someone else have that chance?"

He didn't respond verbally. Instead, he turned and picked up the letters and the ring and handed them to me forcefully. Then he declared. "This conversation is over. You had no right to bring such a memory in this conversation. Would you leave or would you stay?"

For a few moments, my mind went blank in trying to figure out what he meant. Then I figured he must be talking about if I am staying here with them or was leaving them alone. Leaving was no longer an option, not that I had it since I refused it. In the same tone he made his declaration, I made mine. "I am not leaving. Not until you move on, at least. And after that, I will stay for my father." Then I turned and began to walk out of the door. "Don't worry. I won't be sighted by anyone except you or my father. I hope you break the news of my presence to him so that I can visit."

There really was no one else to stay for. Mr Cullingham had left a week after the news of his son's death arrived with no destination declared. It had been a hard farewell as both my father and he couldn't meet the other's eyes. There weren't any hard feelings but the shadow of that decision to have Samuel enlisted and the news of his unspoken love to me had strained the relationship the two had shared.

I didn't push George towards anyone and it was not because I harboured possessive feelings as a ghost. No woman in town was good enough for him and I knew they would never catch his unwilling eye ever. And then, on the second anniversary of my death, it happened. He had been gone to the neighbouring town for some business a week ago. And when he returned on that day, I could see that his posture was a little relaxed. And I knew that he had found her.

I won't say it didn't hurt. For all my talks of having him move on, a part of me hadn't wanted him to just forget me. I was ready to pester him with questions to come up with faults in the mystery woman but the sane part of me convinced me to stay back. I made sure that he didn't see me so that his happy mood wouldn't disappear.

It was another month of wait before I found out the woman's name was Cynthia. And then began the frequent dates. It was hard to control my possessiveness but I managed for his sake. Father, who now knew about me and often spent time with me, was torn about this recent state of affairs. On one side, he was happy for George for finding happiness again and on the other side he was troubled by my hurt. It was the first time I wished to leave ever since my death. But I couldn't leave because my reaper was gone a long time ago. And I couldn't tell this to others because I had lied to them that I was here by my choice and could leave on my own will.

One day, I followed him to see this 'Cynthia' person in the party he was supposed to attend. It was the October of year 1919. There had been a huge party organized in the celebration of American victory in the Great War. Even though the war had been over for almost a year, people still celebrated. They were actually trying to drink away their grievances of having lost family members or acquaintances. Even the soldiers who returned weren't the same as before. The war had changed the entire youth of America and everyone turned to the liquor to forget, even if for a day. The party had been organized by the town mayor, Mr Dorrins at his giant house. By the time they made it to the party with me on their heels, it was eight in the night. Jazz was the musical taste of the time and so the party had a feel of being in a jazz club. I loved the feel of the club and loved the music. I still do.

I had learned how to change my clothes once I managed to figure out how to stay in solid form for more than an hour. My nightgown didn't really leave me as it re-appeared once I turned back into my invisible form while the clothes I wore fell as if they had been suspended mid-air. To my humiliation, I had learned the art of breaking out of other people's homes – as getting in wasn't hard at all and had managed to grab a beautiful dress from one of the houses whose residents were gone over to some other town. I thanked the fashion-conscious woman and her money-spending husband, as I could gather from the pictures in the house, while I gathered my solid form and dressed up. Within an hour after the two had arrived at the party, I was there as well.

It was a huge magic-drain but I managed to charmspeak – another great ability that made people believe what I said – most of the gossiping crowd into believing in I was a Henrietta Peters from the nearby town of Witchbury Falls, just a random name I could remember, while hoping the real one wasn't here. Of course, I doubted I would be able to fool George and stayed clear out of his path while I made my path to his lady companion. I had dressed in a strapless deep blue dress with black gloves and heels and had put on – probably fake – diamond studded earrings.

George never forget to pay attention to me even when in a party among a group of men he was conversing with. It was endearing and gentlemanly then. Now, as I stared at him do the same to this Cynthia Woodstrow, as I had figured out with the help of my father, I felt annoyed. I kept thinking, Leave already. Let me talk to her. She was pretty on the eyes and from her behaviour, she looked positively charmed and interested, even though she had to be bored to sleep just like I often was.

She had worn a completely black outfit that contrasted well with her – what seemed to be – real diamond earrings. Her height was just about me, about five feet and ten inches, with the heels and her brunette hair seems to be complimenting her looks since I can notice several lusting males and jealous females eye her.

Finally, I saw him move away for drinks and I swooped in. The other people had, fortunately for me, turned to other people for conversation. From what I felt, I knew I had enough time to make my assessment. As I went in her hearing range, I made a remark about George. "George looks nice. I haven't met him for a long time. I hope he returns here." As expected, she turned towards me and the first thing I noticed was that her hazel eyes seemed genuinely interested, not possessive or anything negative. I gathered some respect for her right then.

"Are you a friend of Mr Templeton?" She asked and her soft and polite voice only strengthened my belief in her relative purity. I nod at her and then introduce myself as Henrietta Peters, an old friend of his and then asking about her. "I am Cynthia Woodstrow. He accompanied me here. I'm pleased to meet you." And she really was pleased to meet a friend of George. Though she hadn't made the progress of speaking his Christian name, I knew she could get close enough for that and more. I made sure to keep my back to where George was as I kept talking.

"Pray tell me, what do you think of Mr Templeton?" I could feel the eyes of the said person on the two of us and I hoped he would delay so that I can complete my assessment. "I hope he is a perfect gentleman or else I may have to give him a talking to."

She gives out a low laugh before rising to defend him. "Oh, there wouldn't be any need for that. Mr Templeton is a perfect gentleman." Her body language tells me more than her words though. I notice how her words are relaxed so that means that she really thinks so. But the catch in her voice when speaking his name and the little blush tells me that she is interested in him. And that is all I need to know.

"I apologize if I over-step any boundaries but Mr Templeton is a bit of a private person, even though he wasn't so in the beginning. If you like him, Ms Woodstrow, I would have to recommend making the first move. I apologize but I have to leave now before I upset other people who wish to speak with you." She looks at me in shock as her cheeks blush and I leave her with a wink before turning around to see George almost with us. He stops in his tracks as he recognizes me and I give him a truly happy smile and speak to him when I walk close enough to whisper. "You chose well, Mr Templeton. I wish you well." And before anyone else knew, 'Henrietta Peters' was gone from the party. I didn't want to but I returned the beautiful dress.

George had been so much angry with me that he had even threatened to leave the house the very next day. A promise of no more intrusion in his private affairs by me was the only thing that stopped him from leaving.

They were engaged a year later but their marriage kept getting postponed because George often had cold feet about setting a wedding date. Or maybe it was fear of living through what happened the last time all over again. From their conversations, I knew Cynthia was getting impatient and worried, mostly the latter. I didn't understand her. She had seemed pretty nice to me but her reaction to his troubles weren't like what I thought of her. And it was only when I intruded in one of their heated arguments about his hesitation that I had realized why. He hadn't told her about me and my death. That evening, I once again appeared to George in the same way I always did. And I didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"You haven't told her about the past, have you?" I immediately accused him and his eyes narrowed. He had been looking at some papers prior to my arrival and now stared directly at me, the paper in his hands forgotten.

"I believe that is no concern of yours. And I remember a certain someone promise to me that she wouldn't interfere in anything I did. Wasn't it you?" He pointed out in a calm and relaxed manner. It was infuriating. At least until I heard his next words. "I didn't know death made you forget to keep promises and not snoop. It is not ladylike."

Controlling my anger, I released a snort and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I'm already dead and the only people who I meet are you and my father. And you have already seen me in my nightwear so that defeats the entire ladylike-behaviour issue. Snooping I can't help but when I made that promise, I expected you to be an intelligent being, not one to cower from the past."

"Would you not 'cower from the past' if you had lost me?" He quotes me derisively but it is his question that gets to me. Because I would and he knows that. I already had been when he met me. "Then why do come here to lecture me?" That snaps me out of my trance.

"Because you aren't being smart about this entire issue. You are just hiding. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why can't you face the fear and have everything you wanted? Have everything you deserved?" I prod him and finally his control snaps.

"Because I lost you!" He shouts and I look at him in shock. "Everything I wanted was with you. You to be my wife, you to be the mother of my children, you to be the one I spent my life with. And when you died, they died as well." He paused while I simply stared at him and then he continued. "Cynthia broke through the walls I protected my dead heart with your help. You know if you hadn't encouraged her she wouldn't have tried. You come here to lecture me that I am delaying the wedding. Do you know how guilty I sometimes feel for feeling for her when I once chose to be only yours? Do you know how hard it was for me to ask for Cynthia's hand in marriage when all I could remember the time I asked for yours? No you don't so you have no right to talk about this issue."

He turned away from me and stared outside the window behind the desk while I processed all he had spoken. And then I speak. "I know that you are living in the present while still trying to hold the past close to the heart. I have the right to talk because I am a part of your past, a part of you and deserve to help you make the right choice. You must believe me that it pains me much to say this. You have to make the right choice. You have to let the past go to walk into the future. You need to let me go. I'm dead." My voice almost breaks at the words I speak. "Our life together is dead. Our future is dead. You need to let the dead to rest in the past. It is where it belongs. It is where I belongs."

His face was ashen when he replied in a troubled voice. "You can't be serious. You don't mean that. I know you don't. I know you well. You are lying. You will always belong in my heart and no one can take you away from there, not even me."

I felt cruel but I had no choice as I made my last blow. "One person could and that person did. You yourself replaced me with Cynthia. At least have the courage to follow what your heart desires or I shall leave this place and move on." It was an empty threat but he didn't know me. I didn't fear him claiming that he follow me there because he wasn't to run from responsibilities and to follow me would be against his very being.

His entire posture screamed defeat as he made one last attempt at bargain. "I will never forgive you if you make me choose. Please don't do this." I felt bad for forcing him but he needed to move on past me. And so for the second time since I learned to control my appearance, I let myself fade away from eyesight as I replied to him.

"I already have. Someday, you will forgive me." To him, it would be forever me who had the last word in that discussion but I never left the place. And unknown to him, he get to have the final word as he spoke slowly but in a determined way.

"No, Daisy, I never will." It was the last time he ever saw me. I have often looked back at that moment but I don't regret my choice. I do regret that all my relationships with people I cared about ended up with our last words being angry words we later didn't mean.

George married Cynthia one week later. My father and I cried when we heard that George had changed his surname to Templeton-McCain. And while he was on their honeymoon, it was only my father who knew about me. One day, he found me moving around the empty halls at dusk with Samuel's diamond engagement ring in my hand and asked me to hand it over for safe-keeping. It was by pure coincidence that I realized he would have never approved of my relationship with Samuel. In anger I hand-crafted the rough necklace and then disappeared from my father's sight forever.

Three years later, George and Cynthia had a baby girl, whom they named after me. My father often lamented his hesitation as he believed I was gone but George somehow knew I was always here. One day, Cynthia was resting in the master bedroom, while my father had chosen to move to the spare bedroom, and I couldn't help but go to coddle the little Daisy. In order to pick her up, I solidified right as Cynthia unexpectedly walked into the nursery that was my old room. In my panic, I let myself disappear in front of Cynthia who then fainted.

Once George returned that evening, Cynthia demanded that they leave this haunted house, while staying out of my father's earshot. I was there as well. George looked conflicted. I wanted George to have his life and so I used Charmspeak in his ear gently, "Leave this place and never return. There is nothing but a dead past here." He stiffened at my suggestion but he immediately took my advice. Within a month, they were all gone and the house was shut down. I never knew when my father and George passed away, only that George declared that the house should never be sold and never be visited. I suppose it was his way of punishing me. And that is how I ended up here alone." I finally finish my story to see Nick's face full of different emotions. Shock. Pain. Empathy. Anger. But there was no pity. As he processed all he had heard, we remained silent.
Chapter 10

Nick's POV

A lot of things go through my mind as I think about all that she had said. What she had gone through was definitely unfair. All she had wished for was to be close to those she still cared for but had ended up all alone with her metaphorical ghosts of the past haunting every moment of her existence. And now she was dying.

For some unknown reason, I didn't like it at all. No, not liking is such a small and insignificant expression. It was crushing me. She seemed like a good person and didn't deserve to fade out of existence. "Daisy, did you ever see that reaper again anywhere?" I finally break the silence and Daisy looks up at me. Before she can even respond though, she once again disappears from my sight and alarm fills me. If she is losing control over her form only after a century, what will happen to her once she reaches her final days? She needs to leave before that.

At the back of my mind though, I can't help but remember the scared look that Daisy had given me. It was as if she was scared of what I was going to think about her. I am a hypocrite – everyone is – but even I can't condemn her for her actions that I would have done as well. And what did she do wrong anyway? She only chose her family and friends instead of leaving it all and just starting over. That would have been kind of cruel. And Daisy had just showed me that she wasn't cruel, just human. And being human wasn't a crime in any world.

Her words shake me out of my inner thoughts. "No. The reaper never showed up and he didn't have a reason to either. Once George left with his family, there was no one alive left in the house. There hasn't been a death in here ever since." She takes a small breath – does she really need it or is it just another comforting human habit she still remembers? – before continuing. "And I sought him in the later years too when I felt prepared to leave. I often resided in other people's house where someone seemed to be on the deathbed. The reaper came and took the dying person's soul but never revealed its own presence to me. By the eighth time, I had stopped looking for him as well. I had accepted that redemption just wasn't meant for me anymore." I am instantly flooded by the urge to comfort her when she finishes speaking with sadness clear in her voice. What is happening to me? Why do I suddenly care so much for every negative feeling she has? My mind instantly presents with a shocking answer. You care about her. You might have feelings for her.

Externally, I remain silent all this time. Internally, I am reeling away from this realization in shock and disbelief. How can I be in love with a dead ghost girl? It is so ... impossible! My mind has an answer to this as well. Can't you see this? You care about what she feels. You are ready to stand for her when she feels alone. You don't even find the idea repulsive or something similar because you don't really mind it. Is it really that hard to believe that you saw the girl and not the ghost once you overcame your fear? I absently note that my own mind responds to me as a different person and that it is quite mind-boggling. Everything is, really. But it is honest. I don't find the idea repulsive. It just has no future and would only bring pain. Another part of me realizes that the silence has gone on too long and Daisy must be getting confused by my sudden silence without knowing the reason behind it. I should probably break it. "What was your favourite colour?" I ask and immediately curse myself. Of all the possible things to ask, why did I ask her that? My mind is again quick to respond. Because you wanted to know.

"Why do you want to know that? That question isn't relevant to what we have talked about so far." She points out. There is a moment of silence between the two of us in which I try to come up with a neutral apology before she responds, "My favourite colour is green. Specifically the light green. Just like how Samuel's were." She abruptly stops speaking and I wonder if I accidentally caused her pain. Just as I open my eyes to apologize, she continues. "Sorry for that abrupt stop. I was just taken back in memories. You know Nick, despite your initial reasons for coming over to my house, I am glad of your presence. You are the first person with whom I have shared so much and I am glad I had this chance to share."

The reply to her words flow instantly without thought. "The pleasure to hear about you is all mine. Thank you for giving this wonderful gift." I momentarily feel heat rise as I think about how it might be interrupted. Thankfully, she takes it in a different way and I feel her back away, allowing the cold to lessen around me. With the heat though, a feeling of loneliness came over me as well. And it was the yearning for her presence that finally made me accept the true extent of my feelings towards her. I loved her. I was alive and she was dead and it didn't matter because I loved her. We had no future and she probably didn't share my sentiment either and still I loved her. And I always will. Why? Because love isn't fair or just or any of the other things we wish for. It just is.

But I couldn't tell her any of this. This girl, when she loved someone, didn't hesitate in expressing it. When she finds out what I feel for her, how will she react? Will she just laugh it off? Or will she confess her love too? And even if she does, then what? Fifty years of bliss – if things don't deteriorate further – and then permanent loss? No. This shall remain a secret. This will put an unbearable strain on our newfound fragile friendship and I won't have that.

All this strikes me in the duration of one second and I am momentarily confused when Daisy responds. "I'm sorry. I forgot the heat-swallowing effect my spirit has on my surroundings. You should have said, you know." All of a sudden she gasps and I hear a loud crash emanate from somewhere in the house. She apologetically explains. "My power is getting weaker. I had still held the eastern parlor somewhat intact but this sudden wave of weakness destroyed my connection over the place. Now it truly is lost to the past." Her voice turns defeated and I control the urge to comfort her by trying to hold her. That would be too much for a 'friend'.

A realization strikes my mind and I immediately ask her without even considering my wording. "Has it happened before? This loss? Of anything really. Power. Control. Anything?" I keep staring in the direction from where she last spoke, and where I suspect she still is, while waiting for an answer. And through some unexplainable feeling, I know she is hesitating to answer. "What is it Daisy?" I gently ask her, as if trying to get closer to a wounded and panicking animal. "Nothing can be bad if you don't let it be." I soothe her and am just about to continue when I hear her very faint sobs. "It's okay Daisy. It will all be okay. Don't you worry, okay? Things may get worse but they will get better. Now tell me, what is it?" Such empty promises, my mind remarks. There is nothing that can be done to make things better for us.

She replies in a voice so low that I can't hear anything. I prod her to respond again and this time she responds in a voice that I can just barely hear but they are shocking enough to stun me silent. "I can't remember. Things that happened after George left are just blur. It was as if I dreamed them all. I did things, I know I did things, over the years of my isolation to spend the time but I can't remember. I can't remember anything clearly at all!"

What if she has forgotten me as well? How much does she remember? "Daisy, I need you to think hard. What is the earliest thing you remember after they left the house? And why do you think that you haven't lost their memories?" There is a very tense silence that follows it and I fear that Daisy might have forgotten me as well. Is this why she always referred to me before by my full name? To make sure she remembers?

"I think..." Daisy starts and I focus on her voice again. "I remember things but they are all blurred. As if it was all a dream, like I told you before, or a movie. I think I remember them because it was my punishment. To know that they lived their lives and then moved on because they were strong enough to let go while I wasn't. To know that there wasn't anyone left to care about me anymore." Oh Daisy, if only you knew how I felt about you. "And similar is the case with those I have forgotten. I haven't remembered those I never met – those who probably weren't even born – when I was alive. They should never have met me and so I should have never known about them. And now, I really don't remember them." Her sobs grow louder as she keeps speaking and every single one of them feel like they penetrate my heart with sharp irreparable wounds. And so I voice the question that scares me the most.

"Will you remember me?"

People say lots of things about silence. About how it can be deafening. About how it is an answer in itself. About how sometimes silence can help clear things up. They may have meant it in different ways but right now, in this moment, I feel them all suit my present situation. I stumble back a step in shock as I process the fact that the girl I fell in love with may not even remember me once I am gone from in front of her eyes. And I trip. In that one moment of free-fall, nothing penetrates and all I can think of is She won't remember me.

I crash to the ground and all the air is knocked out of my lungs but I don't even feel it compared to the pain I feel in my broken heart. I want, no I need, her to remember me. When the temperature near me gets colder, I only shiver absently as this single desire goes through me. And then an unnatural coldness goes through my face and I am finally shaken out of my thoughts. It takes another small moment before the sounds penetrate. "Nick! Nick! Can you hear me? Are you okay?" She sounds so scared and concerned. Would she still feel so when I leave or would she even forget my existence? A part of my mind then reminds me that I can't really leave this place until she leaves and I am momentarily comforted. I will be around her till she leaves.

Then I turn towards her voice and see that she is visible again. Her face looks like a bit reddish because of the tears and her eyes – the eyes which I once thought dead – are now full of concern and they are all for me. I give her a weak smile, which I feel comes off as a grimace, as I respond, "I'm fine Daisy. Just a little shocked and out of my breath. Did you just slap me?" A bit of incredulity seeps in my voice as I wonder about that sudden coldness.

She stammers before answering, probably embarrassed for her actions. "Yes. I had to slap you. You were going into shock. I am sorry Nick but I can't really promise you what I don't know myself. And I tried shaking you too when you fell but you didn't seem to feel it." Well now that she mentioned it, I did feel a little colder at my shoulders as well.

"I just wish there was a way I could figure out to remember you. You are special and you deserve to be remembered." She added and my heart, though still broken, gave a shout of joy. It wasn't a declaration of love by any level but it was something. Since we had gone from being the guilty and punisher to being friends, I could feel a bit of hope inside me that she could fall for me too. But it wasn't going to happen if she began to forget me.

"Tell me my full name, Daisy McCain." I ask her softly and from the look in her eyes – a saddened and scared one – I know that she too realizes that I am checking how much she remembers about me. That I am checking whether she has already begun to forget me. I hold my breath for her to answer. Since I never could hold my breath for long, it is a good thing she doesn't make me wait.

"Your full name is Nick Demming Peters, though I think it might be Nicholas. You entered my house to either spend a night in here or to steal my necklace and almost succeeded in robbing me by trying to fool me into thinking that you were the reincarnated spirit of Samuel, my best friend and unrealized love when I was alive. Your friend blew up your cover and you got caught. I made you go through puzzles in the house and we escaped basement rats before I told you my life story. Convinced enough that I remember everything? Or should I do a word-by-word?" Her words are equally teasing and equally insulted. I can't help but blush at how she just recounted every single thing that happened since I came into this house tonight.

Satisfied that she remembers all that happened, I release a relieved breath. "No, it's okay. And it is really Nick, not Nicholas." As I keep thinking of how to make sure she remembers me, the thoughts of me loving her mix in and an idea of what I would have done had she been a modern day girl comes to my mind. My mental censor really must be on a holiday because I ask her as soon as the idea comes to me. "Would you go on a date with me?" At her surprised 'what' and on the return of my censor, I quickly re-word my proposal. "Not a real date since it would impossible to arrange so quickly but a pretend date. You could think of me as Samuel if you want while I will be pleased to ensure that you do remember me. Sounds selfish, I know, but I suspect you would have liked to go on a date with Samuel. So, would you have this pretend-Samuel for a pretend-date?"

There is a long stretch of silence and doubts begin to crop up in my head. It was too rash! She would never accept it! Idiot, you hurt her by making such callous assumptions! Apologize now! I open my mouth to apologize when she responds with a small nervous smile in her voice. "You don't have to offer me any further lures to agree. Yes, Nick Demming Peters, I will go on a pretend-date for you. Only you and not pretend-Samuel." I feel a smile crawl up my face and internally I am whooping very loudly with lots of fist pumps. Then she adds. "But I must warn you..." She pauses and I feel every single inch of me freeze. I doubt that I am even breathing. "... I am not an easy girl to please. You will have to be your best."

A huge relieved smile appears on my face as I confidently respond. "Don't worry, Ms McCain. I am the best there can be." Internally, my mind scrambles to come up with the best possible pretend-date scenario I can come up with while remaining within the house. It takes a few moments but I am fairly confident that my idea will work. Hopefully. "Alright Daisy. Please retreat to your room so that I can come to get you for the date from your pretend-house. Dress however you please. I believe the weather would be perfectly warm enough for a night out." With a smile, she disappears from sight and a second later I hear the door shut upstairs. And then I hurry to prepare myself. Wrapping a white cover from one of the nearby furniture to avoid getting my clothes dirty, I quickly re-arrange the furniture to make it all perfect. Well as perfect as I can think of because she deserves the best. It takes around ten minutes and lots of manual labour – finally those torturous hours of gym paid off – before I am done. I quickly run my hand through my hair to remove any dust and arrange it as best as I can while I quickly but carefully walk up the stairs to her room and once I am sure of my appearance, I knock.

Daisy opens the door after a moment and I have to suck in breath to avoid fainting. She dressed in a gold-laced gown with jewels braided in it that only enhance its beauty. Her hair is arranged in a neat bun and I am tempted to see how it would look when I remove the pin that holds her hair in that position. But the most alluring is her face. She went for minimal makeup, just enough to enhance her natural beauty. I am shaken out of my daze when her small shy smile turns emits an amused giggle. I can't help but ask, "What?"

"I didn't know dirty furniture covers were in fashion." She speaks in between what has now turned into laughter and I blush as I realize that I forgot to remove it once I was done shifting things. I quickly unwrap it and throw it to the side. She doesn't stop laughing though.

I stammer as I request. "Can I-I start all over again? That wasn't, uh, supposed to happen." She shakes her head no while trying to control her laughter and I am momentarily disappointed. So much for a great first opinion.

"Nope." She responds after regaining some control over her laughter, even if an occasional giggle still escapes her. I raise my eyebrow at her use of modern slang. It sounds oddly comfortable like it belongs there on her lips. I wonder what if ... Focus Nick! Focus! I focus on what she is speaking. "... a do-over. I think I am impressed a bit already." All my thoughts pause as I process what she spoke. She liked that? Phew!

I reply almost instantly. "Well, then I shouldn't let us delay. Would you please join me on this wonderful pretend-date? I promise to sincerely try to let you have a good time." She made a face at me, echoing my internal sentiment that I just made things a bit too cheesy. I gave her a small grin as I added in a less formal tone. "I was trying to be a proper gentleman for you. I guess that's unacceptable." On her nod, I teasingly add, "Would you like me to hint you on what private activities you tempt me for with every movement of yours?" She was dead but she wasn't unaware. The sudden shyness that filled her was just the perfect way to start the pretend-date. I grabbed her hand and said "Come on, then. Let's begin." And then I took her to the main hall downstairs.

I had moved the entire furniture out of the middle to make a large empty space and laid the cleanest cloth I could find on it. Adjusting the most comfortable among the damaged cushions I could find for her, I help her sit down before sitting down myself. It was pure luck that I found an abandoned picnic basket in one of the closets of the main hall. I picked it up and opened it, pretending to look at lots of food that was in there. "So, what would you like to have? I have got some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, some apples, some ham sandwiches and some chocolate frosted cupcakes." She laughs a little when I stutter while reciting the last ingredient. I quickly check with my hand to see if I had begun to drool with all the salivation going on at the mention of cupcakes. "Nope, not drooling. So, what's your choice? I think we could have a PB&J sandwich each with a cupcake. Does that sound good?"

It is a pretend-date with all the pretend-food but in that moment, I really wish it all were real so that I could have felt glad for the light that momentarily sparked within her. Somehow, I don't know how, she had momentarily forgotten everything that existed outside this make-believe world. And I wanted her to have this forever. But how do you give a forever to someone who has only a limited time left to exist? She nodded and I made her imaginary sandwiches with extreme care to her desires. And through it all, we were just talking like any other couple.

"What's your favourite food?" I ask between one of my bites and she giggles and swats at me while eating hers. She sits in a stiff position, just how the women of that age were supposed to. I grin as I see her equally appalled and amused at my 'savage behaviour' during eating. "I won't tell anyone if you just relax and let all the rules fall away."

She shakes her head in a no and takes another bite. There is a small gap of silence before she swallows and responds. "Fruits. I know people hate eating fruits usually but I loved them. Their fresh taste was a surprisingly pleasant gift to the senses every time. Every fruit gave a unique taste that you never can replicate in anything processed." She eyes me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she confides in a low voice. "I tried them once at the local supermarket of today, one just around the block. I bet they still wonder where a can of every type of food substitute went over the weeks." I cannot help the loud laugh that escapes and she joins me as well.

As she looks back at me pointedly, I answer the same question. "I love... ice creams. Sugary treats are my comfort foods. They are what I would turn to at the end of the day, no matter if it was a rough day or a lazy one. I even have a stash of chocolates at home that no one dares to touch in fear of my wrath." I bend down into the basket to take out some air and continue as I pretend to drool at their sight. "And that is why I saved the cupcakes for the last part." She rolls her eyes at me and I mock-pout at her.

"Don't pout. You look like a two-year old. So, let's just get the usual questions over with. They may be the basics of 'getting to know you' but they are boring. So here's mine." She paused to take a deep breath and my mind momentarily stuck on how every facial muscle moved before she started. "My favourite colour is a slightly bluish shade of green. It was the dress I dreamed to be married in." I momentarily froze as I feared her breaking the bubble with those words. She didn't notice and continued. "My favourite season was the autumn, not because it marked an end but because it marked the first signs of a new start. I loved to ride horses and knew everything there was to know about them. I had my own mare as well. Daffodil was so special that she always lightened my mood." Her voice turns sad as she continues. "The day I died was the day she had to be put down. She went out of control and kept screaming for me. She didn't quieten even as she drew her last breaths, calling out for her dead mistress."

Forgetting, or mostly becoming indifferent to, all the customs that she lived in, I wrap my arms around her and let her mourn the loss of such a special friend. She momentarily stiffens but soon relaxes into me. And we stay like that for some time with our pretend-date forgotten around us. After I feel her starting to stiffen due to all her ingrained etiquette, I try to distract her. "Now that we covered your usuals, it is time for your 'unusuals'." I slowly remove myself from her, giving her plenty of chances to stop. There are times when I feel like she doesn't want me to but she never stops me. And as I return to my original seating, I ask my first 'unusual' question. "What did you love about the night?"

"What makes you think I loved the night?" She meekly responds, as if still emerging from her past and after a short pause, she continues in a stronger voice. "I mean, I did love the night more. The night sky was full of thousands of stars. Of the big moon. It was full of its own life. A mystery no one cared enough to solve. A mystery that no one desired to solve. It was beautiful. It was calming and it made me feel closer to people I lost. While I was alive, I connected with my mother's spirit through the night sky. Once I lost others, the night sky grew in importance significantly." She takes a small breath before asking her question. "What did you seek comfort foods for? What grief do you have?"

Before I realize it myself, I am looking away from her. I make myself look at her but still my eyes avoid looking at her eyes. Because in her first question, she touched a part of me that no one realized. I clear my throat before answering. "I hide no grief. No painful event resides in my past. But there is an emptiness in me. There would be moments when everything pales to insignificance and nothing matters. Moments when I feel like I wait for something but I can't figure out what it is. It drives me crazy and only the presence of the sweet things somewhat help in this emptiness."

"Do you feel empty now? Do you feel it here?" She asks and I realize with a start that I don't. Because in her company, I found the 'sweet' that was already missing but her spicy nature makes sure the sweet never bores me. We can never be but I can't help the pull that feel towards her. And so I whisper her my answer so that there can be no unspoken meaning between the two of us.

"Not when I'm with you." Warning bells are ringing inside me, telling me that this is going too far and I need to get back into neutral territory before I am hurt. But I already am hurt. I know that feelings are already involved from my side and that this changes nothing. There is only one way all of this can end and that is in no way a happily ever after. And so a fear rises within me, a fear for her. And to make sure her feelings don't get involved, I adjust my answer. "Not since I haven't been here long enough. This is all new and this is enough to keep it at bay for now." I tell myself I imagined the disappointment in her before I ask her next question. "What is your idea of a perfect vacation?"

She takes her time to think. I look around and see that the pretend-picnic is now forgotten. We are no longer two people playing make-believe. To me, this is the real thing now. And while I am lost in thoughts of impossible futures where we do get our 'happily ever after', she responds in a wistful voice. The pain that erupts within me from the emotions in her voice tear all the daydreams into pieces. "Being with someone I truly care about, no matter when or where or for how long."

And then she asks the one question I did not see coming. "Consider that through some twist of fate, you walked away out of this house this very instant. Later, someday, what would you think of me?" Her voice is simply curious but all air leaves my lungs. Knowing that there is no way I can truthfully answer her, I shake my head no. I can't answer this. No matter how she responds, this would change everything.

"Next question. Any question but this question." She opens her mouth to protest but I put a finger close to her lips. "Any question but this question." I plead with her and she finally agrees. Then she delivers another air-sucking blow.

"What do you think of me? And I am not going to keep changing my questions." She warns and I let out a groan. There is no doubt that what she seeks is the truth. Truth that I can't give her. Truth that I have to give her. Truth that will change everything.

People say that truth sets you free from your imaginary bonds. Maybe they don't realize that it binds you into a different nature of bonds. No matter how I try to word this to her, there is no easy way to tell this to her. Lying isn't an option. This is no longer a game to either of us now. And lying is not what she deserves, not something that she ever will deserve.

And so I pour my heart with my eyes closed, knowing that this would change everything. "You are the most thoughtful, smart and interesting girl that I have ever met in all my years of living. There is no one who can even hold a candle to your personality. You have a bit of spicy mixed in with all the sweetness that would make any person die of diabetes. You are a mystery that would never be solved and anyone who dared to try would be rewarded with you every time. You suffered a cruel hand of fate with your life and even death and there is no one who can make the pain of it all go away. But it hasn't broken you. I still see the strength you hold within and I know that despite the fact that you don't believe for a better end to your tale, you haven't given up.

It is the mix of all this that makes you one in a million and it is all this that makes me wish that when we met, it wasn't as a ghost girl and trespassing human boy. It makes me wish that we were just alive. Because you are a girl one would forever wait for. One I could forever wait for. Because I realize that you are worth the wait. There's no one else I would rather wait for."

Chapter 11

Daisy's POV

"There's no one else I would rather wait for." The words echo within me as I stare at the clear emotion present in his eyes. If I were living, I would have blood drained out of my face while I stared at him in shock. What? How? When? Why? I expected thousands of different responses but not a proclamation of love. I give in to my delayed instinct to flinch away and immediately hurt appears on his face at my reaction. A large part of me wants to soothe him but I resist - barely - in concern of giving him a wrong idea.

I literally gave him a chance to insult me and he claims he has fallen in love with me? I mean, he showed fear of me when he came in. He stole from me and then was bullied by me. Then we both escaped those mice (eek!) and I told him my story and let him ask me on a pretend-date. And he falls in love? Exactly what did happen to make this so? I mean even the pretend-date was a pretend!

I remember him again when he moves away from me. What happ- Oh! "Nick! Stop!" I call out and immediately wince. Hurt by my lack of a positive response, he had been walking away to be alone but my calling out, as a friend only, makes him hopeful. He turns so quickly that he momentarily stumbles from the dizziness. And the hopeful expression on his face makes me realize that he misinterpreted everything.

And call me anything you want, but I am not cruel enough to do that to him twice.

"Please, don't go. Stay with me." I plead and he quickly returns back to me, keeping a safe distance for now. I need to let him down gently. Then I look at him again and wonder. How did this happen? I was a ghost. He was a human. We were going against whatever ghost-human rules were by not following the conventional relationship of haunter-haunted. This fragile friendship here was the most there could be between the two of us. So then how did he fall in love with me?

And then it strikes. The answer is so obvious that I feel like hitting my head against a wall. "Nick, before I speak anything further, I need to know if this really is real." I turn to him and see him look confused. And the likeliness of my theory being true increases. "Are you truly in love with me or are you just feeling this because I told you my past. Because I told you about how things were."

Instantly the confusion vanishes and I brace myself as an offended look appears. Great! "What are you imply Daisy? That this feeling is just because you told me about you? That this isn't real? The opening up may have been helpful but there were little things all along that I was trying to ignore. I couldn't keep my eyes off your face when you first appeared. When in that room, when I took the necklace, I nearly confessed to avoid hurting you. I cannot count the times I had the urge to fail in the games you played with me just so that you would feel a little more comforted. I could go on but you get my point." He breaths heavily as he stresses every word. "This. Is. Not. Fake."

He exhales a long breath before continuing his rant. "What did you think? That I was lying? Why would I..." He trails off as he realizes something and his entire body locks tight. There is no expression on his face or his body and I can't even guess what his mind is now working on. Then in a half detached, half troubled voice, he asks me something that shocks me silent. "Did you think this was a ploy? To get back out? Tell me, Daisy, did you think I was playing with your feelings to get my freedom? Is that what you think of me? As someone with morals in garbage?" He's practically shouting by the time he's done and I feel like garbage for doing this.

But I'm still not sure that this 'love' is real. After all, how could it be? I start in a low voice. "I am not implying that, Nick, I truly am not. I need you to look at this from my side and understand. So ..." I would like to continue further, in fact I would have continued further, but Nick interrupts.

"I did understand." His voice is so close to tears that I momentarily doubt my own conviction just to spare his feelings. But the moment passes as I accept that this isn't something ignorable. This is more than about just him. This is about me too. But he doesn't let me speak anything as he shouts his next words while staring at my destroyed house all around us. "I always understood for you. I understood that you were still in pain. I understand your life wasn't fair. I understand you never had a chance for your happy normal life. I understand you stayed for others but are now stuck here. I understood so much for you... why won't you try to understand me for once?" He isn't just releasing his anger at me, he is releasing anger at the house as well. "This place, this hell you have been stuck in for so many years has changed you. You are no longer the girl who died on her wedding day. You do not have to be stuck in the past where no one had anything to offer you. You have me to offer you a chance at something real and you do what? You refuse it. You don't give it a moment to think about, do you?"

Before he can go on, I continue my side. "I'm not throwing it away. Believe me, I'm not. I'm just making sure that you aren't offering me something that isn't really true. No. Don't interrupt." I raise a finger to stop him before he interrupts me again. Thankfully, he doesn't though. Word this very carefully, Daisy, or he would explode once again. "I have put my heart out and have been hurt by the fates. I don't want to risk being that hurt again and you may not get this but I need to be sure. Because I don't want to be burned again. And if I take what you offer but it burns me again? It'll be worse than just fading out, Nick, and I can't let you break me. I can't let anyone break me."

I take a deep breath, while a part of me points out that I don't breathe, and I continue carefully from the fragile part. "There is love and then there is attraction. People say that there is 'love at first sight'. From the years of my existence, I can say that it is a lie. There is only one thing that can happen instantly. Lust. And if that is what this is, even though we may not believe it to be so, I don't see how this can be any good." I pause and see that there is a range of emotions visible throughout his body now. Anger. Shock. Sadness. Concern. And I finally figure that I have to pull out the biggest 'gun' I have to dodge this bullet.

"And even if this is true love I am being offered, and I would really love to believe so, I can't take it anymore. Because when you look at all things Nick, the final barrier between us still exists. I'm still dead. You're still alive. And that true love doesn't deserve being wasted on me. My turn is over, Nick and I have accepted this. I have made peace with the fact that I lost my chances when I chose to stay. Please don't do this. Please, don't make this any harder than it has to be. I have to fade out one day. You can't ask me to ruin your life along the way." He opens his mouth to speak and I stop him by adding. "And it will be ruined. No matter what you say now. No matter what you believe now. So please, let us continue this pretend-date, if possible, while remembering that this is indeed the pretend. Reality isn't meant for me anymore."

"So you would just let this go?" Nick asks in a very low voice, barely above a whisper. He looks crushed and though I tried to be gentle, I still can't help but feel guilty. "You would just let me go?" He asks again in a little stronger voice and I turn away. I feel him stand up on the now-forgotten blanket and turn to look at him. But he isn't looking at me anymore. He is looking at the house around us. And the expression on his face is one that is sadly familiar.

"I hate this house. I hate that it became your prison. I hate that it became my prison. I hate it caused you so much pain. I hate that it is the reason I feel my heart breaking right now. I hate that it is where it all started even when it can never end. I HATE THIS HOUSE!" He shouts the last words, his voice rising with every word he spoke from the whispers in the beginning to the top of his lungs at the end. And then he falls down on his legs with tears streaming down his face as he keeps chanting "I hate it."

There may not be much for me to give him but I have empathy to give. But it is not meant to be. Because when I lean in, when I am just about to rest my hand on his shoulder in solace, just when I am about to try for human contact for the first time in the past half century, it happens again. I dissolve into my ghost form again. And my hands, now ethereal, freeze just an inch above the crying boy whom I care about. I do care about him, but not quite enough to love him.

An hour passes in which he processes my rejection. He cries. Then he quietly sobs. And then he's silent. I'm still invisible but I don't move. And I stare at only him to see how he's doing. It has been a long time without sleep for him now and I think about suggesting it. But a part of me doesn't want him to. Because there are things he doesn't know. Things he cannot know. But things that he must complete. And if he sleeps, I don't think he would like the outcome. To lose despite winning. Because I may be angry. I may be vengeful. But I am not cruel.

But after half an hour of silence between the two of us, I feel like cutting him some slack and letting him sleep. I could always get him in deep sleep, only to wake up for the goodbye. I am even about to suggest it when he speaks. "Daisy? Are you gone?"

There isn't even a second's pause before I respond. "No, I'm here. I'm still here. What is it? Are you tired? Do you want to -" I don't finish because he interrupts me again.

"I think you were right."

I blink. "What?" I wonder what he's talking about. Then I abandon that thought and resume my older try. "Nick I think you should-"

"I think you were right." He repeats before elaborating. "It wasn't love. Not exactly at least. I thought about it, despite my mind not wanting to. It still argues that it all might have been love at first sight but I don't know what's true. It is the first time I have felt like this for anyone and I cannot be sure what it really means but a part of me, the sensible part of me, acknowledges that it might be lust." He turns to look at where I sat, where I still sit frozen in shock. "Your explanations were completely true. How could I fall in love within a night and a day? Don't interrupt me, please." He speaks when I open my mouth to speak. Some cold air must have blown. He doesn't know. "It has to be lust. That's the logical explanation. And though I haven't really come to terms with that, I know I will."

"My behaviour and my words, though, are unacceptable. I was harsh. I was rude. I was completely not a gentleman. And in this pretend-date, where I wanted you to have everything you wanted to be as real as possible, that is not how it should have been. I should have kept my feelings to myself when I had no idea of how they would affect you. I shouldn't have let my anger let me shout at you and I am horrified by, what I fear to be extremely painful, feelings I must have caused in you. For all of this, I am extremely apologetic. Would you forgive me?"

Just like the statement that started it all, I am frozen in shock. Before I respond though, he lets out a grin, though it is pained, and adds, "I hope you believe that. It was all non-sense though. It just sounded what I should say. Just making sure you don't wonder if I am bipolar to go through such mood swings. They did have bipolar as a psychological disease back then right? Wait no, I read about it, it was manic-depressive disorder. Research paper once, not because I have it." Then he grimaces and I simply stare at him wondering if the shock made him lose his mind.

But then the shock wears off and I know only one thing. I feel hurt and disappointed. And deep within me, I accept it to myself. I wanted him to be in love with me. I wanted him to make me love again. I wanted him to convince me to take the risk despite what I feared. To make me convince that this would all be worth it in the end. Not to fall for my 'logic'. Not to be beaten by my fears. And I want to cry at this realization. Because even though he didn't, I think I was falling for him a little with those passionate words. And now, it was too late.

And then he blows an unexpectedly cruel blow, unexpected because I didn't see them, or the hurt they would cause, coming. "I hope that now that the emotions are out in the open, we can go back to enjoying what was supposed to be our 'pretend-date'?" The impact of the blow makes me flicker in and out of visibility. Until, I finally end up visible. I always heard of the term 'poker-face'. Now I had become an expert in it. Because his expression doesn't change at all even when I'm become visible.

There are many things I want. To continue was not one of them. Still, I see it for what it is: An effort to make me happy. And I'm greedy. I'm selfish. Because though it pains to, I nod. For him, it can be a pretend.

To me, it is the Almighty's last mercy.
Chapter 12

Nick's POV

It hurt to smile as she nodded at the idea of continuing the 'pretend-date'. She had not realized that her words had ultimately failed to make the intended impact. I didn't want us to keep arguing, not when every word she spoke tore through me. I loved her but she didn't want to believe in me.

Would I have thought like her if our positions were reversed? Most likely. Definitely. And that was the only reason I chose to back down now. She would only accept my feelings if she shared them as well and with this pretend-date, I had a chance of convincing her that my feelings are real. Because you can't truly argue for something if you don't believe in it yourself. And so, though I bled inside, I knew what I had to do. A simple task but a daunting one as well.

I have to win her heart.

Metaphorically, of course. Because, she's dead. For some reason a part of my mind points out and I scold at it so harshly that I am momentarily scared of myself. What am I turning into? That same part responds one last time at me. Lovesick idiot.

I ignore that response mostly and focus on the surroundings while trying to figure out what to do now. Because you know a date is terrible when all you can think of is looking around and thinking of what to do next. And then I remember the plan. Of course! It's movie time. Then looking around, I wonder, how do I pull this off?

The answer comes to me instantaneously and though the idea would require quite a lot of creative effort, much more than I suppose I have, but I know it's perfect. "Come on, Daisy, it's time for a movie. So tell me, what kind of a movie do you want to watch?" The smile I have on my face is undoubtedly so big that it feels creepy even to me. I tone it down as I see her look around in confusion, wondering how we would be watching one.

"Um... how?" She asks and her confused voice with the puzzled expression is just so cute that I can't help but laugh. She scrunches her nose and it is even more adorable. That annoying part of me points out that there are thousands of things that are going wrong. She's a ghost. I'm a human. We shouldn't be on a pretend-date. We shouldn't be friends. In fact, there shouldn't be a 'we' at all. I tell that part to shut up as she now glares at me. "Why are you laughing at me? How are we going to see a movie here? Have you lost your marbles?"

I hold out a hand while I let my laughter die out. Seeing her eyes narrow when it doesn't end quickly enough for her makes it just worse for me and I have to turn away from her by the time I'm done. God, if she wasn't only so resistant to my feelings, I would have kissed her. "Girl," I begin in a serious tone. The chuckle that breaks through kind of shatters the illusion I was trying to create and I have to start again. "Girl, sometimes the actors don't do justice to the role enough. So, why not let's just imagine people we would like to be in 'our' movie? Just close your eyes, listen to my voice, feel it all play out... and don't fall asleep!" Another round of laughter bursts through while she glares at me. If she's messing with my emotions in revenge, then it's worth it. Because although she might think me crazy for laughing after those serious declarations, this is a part of me. The 'trying to be the funny one' part of my personality I torment only a few people with. And she doesn't know, so she doesn't understand, that how special she is to me now. After this one dies down, I ask her again. "So what kind of movie you want?"

"Surprise me." She responds in an annoyed tone and I barely control my laughter that rises again. She probably doesn't realize this but she's putting lots of trust in me for someone who doesn't care about me more than as a friend. You don't let anyone, even a friend, this much power after being a recluse for so long. She takes her seat on the blanket and using my jacket, I make a pillow for her to lay her head on. I try to hide the shiver from the cold from her but she sees it and ignores it because she is still angry at me.

"Lie down gently onto the jacket and close your eyes. I will speak the lines, the actions, the plot and everything else. You just have to imagine your actors speaking them in your 'movie', alright? I will shout. I will whisper close to your ear. But you don't open your eyes, alright? Not until I nudge the jacket, in case you disappear. Nod if you understood me." There's a slight nod before she lies down and closes her eyes. Her face... the beauty of it now leaves me breathless. Her face clearly shows her excitement and the overall relaxed feel I get from her makes me wish to have many more chances for seeing her like this again. I pause a few seconds to get her to relax completely before I start. The book that I recently read, I decide, it would be a nice story.

"There was once a land far away from the rest of the world." I whisper in her ear as if I'm telling a secret. "Blessed by magic, cursed by fates and torn by turmoil and revenge. There was the evil king, even his fair looks were tainted by an undercurrent of evil that consumed him. There was a darkness in him, a darkness that seemed to incite only fear in those who had the misfortune of being in his presence. And deep within him, forgotten even by himself and untouched by the darkness, remained a secret only one knew about." Her body slightly tenses and I hope she is able to imagine this character well.

"It was a dark and stormy night. And still his tower, The Dark Tower, stood darker than the night, as if it were sucking all the light that fell on it. The tower was in the middle of the kingdom's capital, now a ruin of what it once was in its glorious days. And in this stormy night, only one was foolish and loyal enough to be out in the open. Lightning fell and lives were lost but none dared to touch the fool as he ran to the tower. It was obvious that the storm wasn't natural and from the mercy it granted the fool, it was clear that the evil king controlled the storm with his dark magic. The servant climbed the stairs at his maximum speed, even though his lungs screamed at the exertion. And he knocked before entering the study of his master. The room was bright with torches, even though the land was also blessed with technical advancements even unheard of by the outsiders. And in the torchlight, he stared at the servant with an expression so cold, so inhuman, that his face might as well have been carved from stone." I take a moment pause before continuing in a small but confident tone.

"Master, I have brought what you desired. The traps were hard, the guardian dangerous but this success is a proof of my devotion to you." Daisy's lips twitched at my strange tone but she didn't open her eyes or interrupt me. I adjusted my tone again and infused as much indifference as I could before continuing.

"Yes, yes, I see that and don't care for it. Now show me the proof of this loyalty." Somehow, I manage to insert an undertone of excitement in my imitation and then continue my narration. "The servant brings out an orb. 'The Orb of Fate' he calls it. It glows bright with a strange glow within it, a glow that changes colour. The servant cautiously puts the orb on his master's desk and leaves the room, knowing that he would be rewarded later. And once alone, the king whispers something so low that no voice comes out of him. But the voice that comes out of the Orb is loud enough.

"The person shall be a great conqueror after his ascension and shall be successful in his wants. But when the time of his passing shall arrive, a fatal mistake shall be all that's needed." I barely cover my laughter that somehow tries to emerge while I imitate an ominous emotionless voice. Daisy's gasp tells me that she is listening carefully.

And so I continue the story. Imitating the characters the best I could as I narrate to her the story of reunions, lost souls, revenge, love and heartbreak. And by the time I'm done, with a few modifications to the story to tie up all loose ends, I can see a smile on her face. She loved the story, I realize and a huge knot of tension that weighed on my shoulders for so long disappears.

I wait some time for her to relax once more before I nudge the jacket below her head. I was right to be cautious. She disappeared several times throughout the story, though I doubt she realized that, and this was the better of all the methods I could think of to wake her. She's visible now and when she opens her eyes, the sight of those blue eyes are a huge relief. I hadn't even realized that in all my inspection of the rest of her face that I missed her expressive beautiful eyes so much. It is as if I had been spending my life without ever seeing the clear skies in the morning.

"That was a nice story. Thank you for the movie." Such generic words but the happiness in her body language is not at all faked. I'm glad she enjoyed the story and offer her my hand to help her stand. She smiles as she accepts my hand. And as I pull her up, I notice her grabbing my jacket as well. "Here, wear it. You must be so cold. The winter air mustn't be a comfort for the living, I presume."

"It isn't." I tell her. "But it wasn't noticeable honestly. I never realized it." And as I wear the jacket, the sudden warmth makes me shiver while I realize just how deeply the cold had settled in my bones. I control the smile that threatens to break out when I sees the concern on her face upon my shivering, knowing it wouldn't be productive to my goal.

She can fight against what she feels but I will fight for us too. There may not be a future for us but I won't let her get away from this without acknowledging it. I sort of understand what she fears: There can be nothing to hope for outside of these rickety four walls. But she seems to have forgotten that these four walls is our home now, for as long as she is here. And the weight of these unrecognized, unaccepted feelings will bury us and then taint us, effectively destroying anything we could ever have. I don't want to have that. And isn't it said that it is better to love and lost than to have never loved at all?

"Now we move on to the next part of our date, I mean pretend-date. Pretend-date." I hastily correct and can feel the blush on my face, even though there is no reason really for me to feel embarrassed. She just smiles at me, probably thinking how cute the situation was. After all, if the roles were reversed, I certainly would have thought so. I probably would have said so as well. But that's the disadvantage of being the guy of the couple. You can't make fun of them. It's not proper.

Grabbing both of her hands, I whisper to her while she's still surprised. "I would appreciate if you don't disappear. Can't really do this if I can't hold you to stay in positions." She looks at me, questioning my actions until I place her left hand on my shoulder and hold her right hand in my left at a height slightly above our shoulders. She smiles at me and the getting the 'punch' of that beautiful smile directly at me sates an unrealized, and so far unacknowledged, desire. It lights up her entire face and I can see how she must have really looked when she was alive. I whisper with happiness barely concealed, "You should have let this side out instead of the 'prim and proper' version in the parlour room before. Of all your expressions, this one is most definitely the breath-taking one. Absolutely beautiful." By some reserve of modesty or maybe because of some code of conduct for being a 'lady', she looks down in shyness. And even though we are already in position, I ask her gently. "Would you like to dance with me?"

"But where's the music?" She asks and then pauses before giving a smile so bright that my brain overloads on its sight. She speaks but I can't hear her for the moment. "... so let me." She smiles again and I forget everything else. And then, with the backbone women of her generation didn't have, she asks me my own question. "Would you like to dance with me?"

There are thousands of amazing responses to that question. My brain, which is somehow functional, comments. So think of one, you dumbstruck idiot! But it's already too late. I can almost hear my own brain groan at me when I give her an eager nod in response. But then she gives me a little smaller smile and even my mind is now too awestruck to be bothered. And that is when I hear it.

The sound hits me from all directions, as If it were there all along but I couldn't hear it. The sound of violins fill the place and we begin to move. An uncharacteristic fluidity graces me, since I usually have two left feet on the dance floor, as we glide through the floor. Some part of me wonders if the cleared space would be enough but the concern isn't enough to break this moment we are having.

Throughout the dance, we hold each other's gazes. They say eyes are the windows to the soul. Then, even though I know she would probably be hurt and annoyed by my persistence, I let the eyes do the talking. I think of her and let them appear in my eyes. All my love, my concern, my affection, my devotion... it's all for you. Can't you see? Maybe it's the moment or maybe it's just me but I see a clear response in her eyes as well.

Yes, I see. Her eyes seem to be speaking. And I share these feelings as well. But there is fear in her eyes as well. And through some unknown way, I just know what she fears.

We may not have a tomorrow. We may get hurt. I acknowledge her fears silently. But we have the now. And we would only regret not seizing this moment when we had a chance to have everything if either of us walks away. I try to soothe her, even though I don't think she truly gets what I mean to say to her. I am not walking away from us. I will fight for us. But I need you to fight as well. I want you to have faith in me as well.

Finally she breaks the eye contact. The loss of connection hits me somewhere deep and I tense a little, afraid of having her walk away from me, from us, before letting me have a chance to convince her to take a chance. But the hurt and all the doubt fades away as soon as I feel her head rest on my shoulder. A smile automatically slips on my shoulder and I close my eyes as we now just sway with the music. I recognise her attempt to escape the discussion but considering that it all seems to have happened in my head, I don't call her out on it. It could be that the move was instinctive for her, now that she feels more comfortable in my presence after all we have been through.

Sometime later, while we are still dancing, I feel her tense in my arms. The move to squeeze her hand in comfort is instinctive, and surprisingly natural. I don't know what concerned her but it all slides away from her as she relaxes in my arms once more.

The music is hauntingly beautiful and I know that I will never forget the song or these moments. The music must have been going on for nearly half an hour before it starts slowing down, probably nearing its end now. I open my eyes and look at her still in that same position and then look around. It is only her embrace that stops me from stiffening in shock and ending the dance abruptly. For this entire time we danced, our feet never touched the ground. Both of us floated in the air and I didn't even realize. I guess, no I know, I must have been too lost in the dance to notice. I don't comment on it though because I understand that she must have shared my concern of bumping into the furniture on the ground and so lifted us up.

As the songs hits its last notes, we both lower down to the ground. But it isn't until the music fully stops ringing in our heads that I feel her move away with obvious reluctance. I have no idea what to expect after those intense moments. My first guess would have been awkwardness but it is clear from my own feelings that there is no awkwardness. To me, it was a beautiful moment and there is nothing to feel awkward about.

To avoid her from feeling odd, I share this with her. "That dance, while floating in the air, felt magical, Daisy. Thank you for that. You made the dancing portion, the one I was most concerned about, the best part of our date. I mean, pretend-date." That little slip of tongue, however, goes unnoticed. From the content smile on her face, I feel it's safe to assume that she enjoyed it as well. But I still feel a part of her tensed, as if in preparation of something unpleasant. "What happened?"

"Did you, maybe, feel me disappear?" She asks and her voice is so small in embarrassment that it takes me a moment to understand what she said. Before I can respond, she hastily explains her question. "During the dance, I felt myself disappear. But then you squeezed my hand and I felt it. You couldn't have touched me if I were invisible so I must have been visible, right? Of course since I felt you hand, I must have been visible. It's just that I had closed my eyes in fear of finding out that I had disappeared from the embrace while dancing, as if I let you to dance with air!" She's getting hysterical now. I, on the other hand, am trying not to smile.

"Calm down, Daisy. You didn't disappear." I assure her and she stops panicking to stare at me with narrowed eyes. I guess some of my laughter leaking in my voice. "What?" I ask in my best innocent voice possible, though I suspect a small smile leaks out. I control it, while she glares at me, before continuing. "You didn't disappear. I felt you in arms throughout the dance, okay?"

She is still glaring at me but once she hears my response, she relaxes her glare. "Come on now." I inform her. "It's time for the last part of the pretend-date." Surprise momentarily fills her face before a sadness covers it, even though she tries to hide it. Having heard the sadness in my voice as well, I understand how she feels. We had a great time together, even if it was all under the cover of a 'pretend-date'. "It's time for me to escort you back home." The sudden sadness that strikes me upon saying those words hits me so hard that I am momentarily overcome with emotion.

It takes me several seconds before I can regain my composure well enough to stop letting it show on my face. Though my voice is still a little hoarse from unshed tears when I ask, "Ready?" She nods and I extend my hand for to grab onto.

Together, under a force of unacknowledged emotions, we climb the stairs and move through the corridor to get back to her room. Stupidly, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind when we reach her door. "Normally, at the end of the date, at the door of her house, the boy and girl kiss, you know." The moment the words are out, I stiffen at shock over what I just blurted.

The unacknowledged emotions now take a new form and I feel a wave of awkwardness become the unwanted third entity present between us. I am just about to apologize when she gives me a small cryptic smile. "I should have known you would try for this. Let me assure you, you would get what you're due." Confused by her response, I stare at her mystified while she opens her door and keep staring until she disappears behind it. The sound of it slamming shut finally knocks me out of my trance and still dazed, I begin to walk downstairs.

The daze still doesn't wear off until I'm downstairs. I shake my head to clear my mind from her sight for the moment and properly look around. As soon as my surroundings register, I freeze in shock.

"When I set puzzle to this final room, I was angry." She confesses. She's still in her dress, as if she materialized here as soon as the door closed above. "I wanted you to be miserable, knowing you would never realize the puzzle of this last room." Her voice is sad and regretful and there is a deep urge within me to comfort her. But confusion holds me still as I wonder what she means. "I didn't expect you to succeed but as we spent time together, I began hoping for you to. By winning my heart, even though you had nothing obvious to gain from it, you solved the puzzle of this last room." She hesitates now, as if afraid of my response. What does she fear? Why does she fear me?

"Congratulations, Nick Demming Peters. You won my heart... and your freedom." Even before the words penetrate, she turns and I see a sight that takes several moments to penetrate.

The door to the mansion is open and it's still night outside.
Chapter 13

Daisy's POV

The silence is deafening while Nick overcomes his shock. If I weren't already dead, I am sure that I would have been crying. Is this how you treat one who wins your heart Daisy? I ask myself. And sadly, the answer is still the same no matter how many times I ask. Yes, this is exactly how you treat someone who wins your heart. You offer them a chance at what they truly desire, even if it comes at a cost of losing them. My mind is so torn in this dilemma that it cannot find a reason to either agree or disagree.

"This was a game?" He questions and every candle of hope flickers out. I focus back on his face and the tears that flow down only drive the guilt deeper. His voice is shocked and broken. His face shows his devastation. "Tell me, Daisy," He speaks again in broken whispers, "was it all just a game to you?" There is a fear that rests in soul of all who has ever lived, a fear of losing someone you love. The terror that settles within me is a much deeper and darker one: Of driving someone you love away. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. What can you say Daisy that offers the possibility of making this right? You know that it would break you if he had done that to you. And so now, you must bear his accusations for you know that you are guilty of them. Still, seeing him still wait for response, I shake my head.

"Then WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!" He shouts and I flinch instinctively. I would have been fine with him shouting even more. I would have accepted him threatening me. But when he collapses, I cannot ignore how deeply I just hurt him. "I loved you." He mumbles and I gasp in pain at the past tense. "I cared for you. I even laid my heart for you. I thought that you felt the same..." then he looked up at me and I flinched at the animosity I see in his eyes, "but you didn't, did you? It was all a game. Locking me in, becoming a friend, telling me your story. And I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I began to care for you. I took you out on a 'pretend-date' as Samuel even though for me, it was only Nick and Daisy. Tell me, was it Nick and Daisy for you too or was it Samuel and Daisy for you?"

The hurt that penetrates at his accusations make me take a step back while I forcibly put a hand on my own hand from interrupting him. If there's any hope... I cut that thought out immediately. I cannot let that thought finish if I need to make it through this. "ANSWER ME!" He screams even as he sobs and I finally remove my hand. It is wet and sticky and I finally remember that I actually am in a mortal form and so can indeed cry.

"No, tonight was only Nick and Daisy." I answer him and then plead. "Please Nick, listen to me..."

He quickly cuts me off. "Listen to you? LISTEN TO YOU?" He shouts as he finally begins to stand up from the stairs. "All I have been doing since I met you is listen to you. And see what it got me. If this is how you were back then, then I'm glad th-" His voice cuts off and I realize that I slapped him to stop him from finishing that thought.

And now, all hope is completely extinguished within me. And all I can summon up is anger. Anger for treating as if I am not hurt right now. Anger at him even daring to try to drag my past into this. Anger at him for breaking my heart. "Don't you dare finish that sentence! You have no right to judge my past self like that. I am done feeling guilty for you Nick Demming Peters.

Tell me, was it not you who came to steal my engagement ring from my house while I was here? Was it not you who lied to me, playing with my emotions first? Tell me, was it not you?" I shout out at him in anger and see his face harden into a mask of anger.

"Is that what all this was about? You played all this game just because I played with your feelings? I apologized Daisy. I apologized! Not once, not twice but several times I apologized. It is not my fault that I look exactly like your dead soldier love. I didn't choose this face to be born with. What I did was a mistake I sought to correct. But you?" He glares as if his 'laser vision' would burn me to the ground if he focuses on me long enough.

Newsflash, dumbo! I'm already dead! "Oh you poor baby. You couldn't handle a game!" I mock him and his gaze narrows further. "If you weren't already a coward to take on a stupid dare for the sake of your pride, none of this would have happened!" I'm about to point out that he also didn't listen to everything I said because he never reacted to 'winning my heart.'

"My pride? Are we really going that low, Daisy McCain?" He sneers at me. "Alright then. How about your selfishness, you stupid little girl? You were so selfish that you didn't want to let go of your family even after you were dead! Newsflash girl, they were no longer anything to you the moment you died. You should have just done that murderous friend of yours a favour and died."

This time, I put all my energy behind the slap. I feel like my heart is bleeding from all the wounds that I have been given right now. Is this who I was fighting for? This blunt, unlovable person who only seeks to deliver cruel blows? This person who only believes in offering a shoulder to cry on only for gathering information later to hurt more deeper with?

And with these thoughts, I make my decision. I won't fight for 'us'. I will not suffer through this for anything's sake. No one has a right to judge me or my actions, not even this boy who I fell for. And so one last time, I look at him and remember his face. So that when he leaves this house tonight, he will join the list of people I loved and lost. And someday, maybe, I will remember him too.

"Leave." I speak in a voice that hides my emotions. "I do not care for your words. I do not care for you anymore." He flinches and I ignore it. "If you have to leave, then just leave. The door is open. Just take your things, if you brought any, and go. I have lived a hundred years alone. I can live another fifty alone as well."

The change in his face is slow and every expression hurts no matter how hard I try not to care. He initially panics after his flinch and desperately searches for a sign that I'm lying. The tears fill his eyes as he fails and when he concedes, the hurt replaces the panic. It almost makes me change my mind but I don't give in. Because what we had moments ago was healthy. It was beautiful. It was good. But just now? It was toxic. It was ugly. It was a disease. And I deserve better than something like that.

And so when the hurt hides behind anger, I tell myself that I deserve better. And ignore my heart's screams that even if I deserve better, all I want is him.

It hurts to ignore it. To ignore what these screams mean. I don't want to but I have to acknowledge this fact if I have to not later regret this. That when Nick Demming Peters walks out of the doors of McCain mansion and Daisy McCain's life, no one else would be walking in. I would be too weak to be able to even hold my solid form. I would remember nothing. I would go through life only in the moment, haunted by the past and fearing the future. In short, I would be nothing.

"Fine." How can one word be filled with so much dislike? "You want me gone, do you? I will gladly do this one last thing for you." He announces and I know that he won't stop now. He will leave me here alone.

And what happens next is so fast that I don't even realize that it has happened. A part of my mind, that was silent for so long, screams loud. Don't let him go away without telling him the truth. Don't let him go away with unanswered questions as well. And a part of my body instantly acts, seizing his wrist and stopping him just as he would have gotten out of my reach. I don't know why but as soon as I touch him, he too stops in his path. And even though there is still tension in his body and his anger and hurt and dislike still emanating from him, hope blooms again within me. Not of having things forgotten. Not of reconciliation, but of recovering from this hurt faster.

"Not all of it was a game." I confess and somehow, I know that as soon as he hears them, he stopped breathing in surprise. I don't continue until he takes his next breath. "I was angry when you broke my trust like that. I wanted to punish you. And feeling no chance of you winning this heart that was angry at you, I knew that it would be perfect to be taunted by the impact of your actions. But it was petty. And I was wrong.

You didn't win me in any one instant. You slowly tore my walls down and the loneliness of the past several decades only helped your cause. Because you were the first one I met after death who cared for me. You were the first one who, despite being scared of me, still wanted to know about me. You were actually interested in my preferences. And when I realized that despite your words, you were still trying to win me over, the last of my walls came down immediately. I wanted to tell you then. I wanted to let it out, to let the door open. But I couldn't. I was being selfish.

Like I said, no one had ever cared for me after my death like you did. And so I didn't stop you. I didn't set you free. Because this is what I feared. You may be wondering why I tell you this now, when I had successfully driven you to leave. I didn't say this to make you stay. But I owed it to you to make things clear with you. In life, there are things that are said and then there are things that are left unsaid. I didn't want this to remain unsaid. Goodbye, Nick." And with that farewell, I move back to my room.

Rubbing over my heart doesn't help with the heavy weight that has settled within me. And the part that screams to stop him and make him understand must be masochistic because it cannot help but try to listen for the sounds of the door closing. The sound that does come though is a different wooden noise though.

It is not of a door slamming shut. It is of a stair's creak.

And so with breath held inside, even if I don't really need to breathe, I wait for a noise. A clue. Anything to help me understand what is happening. Is he still here? Why is he still here? Has he left? If he left, then who is it? Is something wrong?

My imagination runs wild with all the possibilities of what might be happening and as a result, I jump with a loud yelp when someone knocks on my door. Grab a hold of yourself, you idiot! You are already dead. You cannot be harmed. Still, my mind can only think of some type of ghost catchers who would be knocking all of a sudden.

"Daisy, you okay?" Nick calls out with concern and I finally relax, feeling embarrassed for letting my own imagination spook me. I call out to comfort his worries.

"Yes." My voice sounds strangled and not at all comforting and so I clear my throat before answering again. "Yes, I'm fine. What happened? I thought you had left."

There is no reply and I imagine him looking down in embarrassment in the meanwhile. And then he responds. "I'm sorry." I'm so taken aback that my brilliant response is a 'huh?' Thankfully, he continues. "All the harsh words I said, all the things I accused of, I had no right to say any of them. I was hurt and was just trying to hurt you as well just in spite." Calm down, oh dead heart of mine.

"And in doing so, I said some really hurtful things that betrayed all the trust you placed in me. You never really meant to hurt, well maybe except in the beginning, while all my jabs were meant to inflict pain. And Daisy, it really is a privilege of having won your heart." Good then perhaps you can help it calm down. I feel like screaming in joy. "But I just wish you hadn't placed my freedom with it." The shock of his words makes me let out a gasp and all the joy instantly fades away.

"Like you said and did, I too didn't want to leave before making things clear. I loved you, I probably still do. But the hurt you gave me, even if unintended, isn't something I can forgive so easily. It hurt and I know that you have a very good idea of how bad. The terror of never seeing your loved ones again, of losing everyone you cared for, it still makes me shiver in fear. And for making me feel that way, I cannot just forgive you. I am just not that strong Daisy and I know that in my place, you would understand that as well." The heart and mind, that was about to scream with joy just now, is now crying. I'm almost about to open the door and beg him not to leave when he repeats my words that just have to tear us apart.

"You were always right Daisy. You deserve better than this pain. You deserve better than me. A human cannot have a happy ending with a ghost. What we had is a fantasy that you broke before it got even stronger and more difficult and painful to break." He sniffs and I know without checking that tears are falling from my solid form as well.

"Goodbye Daisy. I guess this is our break-up, isn't it? At least I got this first from you." He laughs depreciatingly and I cannot help but smile a little while sniffing. There is no more words that come out after those words, only sounds of walking away. And every one of them is like a hole in my dead heart. I close my eyes and only hear his steps, not willing to let go even in these last moments.

At least until they stop and then come back, growing louder. My eyes fly open and I stare at the locked door again. What blow is he yet to deliver? He knocks once again before calling out.

"Daisy, I just want to add one more thing." He speaks quietly. I note the absence of any emotion except disappointment and instinctively brace, knowing somehow that this will be the strongest of the blows he has to deliver me. "Fifty years." I stand in confusion, not understanding what he means. But then he elaborates.

"Fifty years. I wanted you to have a forever. But fifty years is all that you seem to have. You have been granted the mercy to be able to forget, Daisy. But me? I will never forget. Know this Daisy, for as long as you remember."

And with these words, he shatters me into pieces. I cannot hold back the pained scream that erupts from deep within me as a shower of tears cascade down my face. And through my hearing, I hear him inhale a sharp breath, stand in silence for a few moments before turning around and walking away while releasing the breath. Leaving me shattered forever behind him. And every step that he takes crushes all the dreams and the possibilities of us as he walks out of my house.

And this time, I hear the door shut and know it's over. He's gone. He delivered his stronger blow and shattered me into pieces. And now he was gone.

But not really. He isn't really gone. Because he was wrong. Nick was wrong about what he said. I had been granted no mercy. I still remembered every moment with him. I still remembered everything about him. And that's what hurt the most in the end of all this.

For the last hundred years, I have wished to remember. To remember every sight, every thought, and every memory but right now, in this moment, I only wished to forget.

I wished to forget Nick Demming Peters. I wished to forget his smiles, his fears, his voice, his care, his concern, his laugh, his presence. I wanted to forget every moment of his being.

Even if I have to forget myself for it.
Chapter 14

Nick's POV

All that anger. All that shouting. All those words. What now? My mind asks despite knowing that there would be no answer. The moment the door shut behind me was the moment I knew what a huge mistake I had made. All the anger instantly vanished as regret took over. She was being fair in her own way. Would you have chosen a different punishment than hers?

I shake my head in response to my own mind's accusations. There is no way that I would have done anything other than what she did. But the moment things changed to being the matters of the heart, she should have stopped. Games of the heart rarely end well. A cool breeze passes by me and I finally acknowledge that this isn't a lie or a dream or an illusion. I take a few steps to get away from the door as an irrational fear of suddenly being pulled in takes over. And when nothing like that happens, I can't help the chuckle that comes out. "I'm free. I'm not stuck." I say out loud to the open world around me.

But then why do you feel like a stranger now? Like you don't really belong in here anymore? My hurting heart asks me. I don't answer it, knowing that what it seeks cannot be fulfilled. She doesn't belong out here. I never belonged in there. We cannot be together. Then why does it feel like you had to force them out even in your mind?

Stupid heart, why can't it listen to reason once? I'll just ignore it and... The thought trails off as I realize that there is nowhere I really want to be other than the place I just left. "I could go home." I muse out loud but then realize that it would be foolish. Mom and Dad would already be asleep and little Jonny would probably be sneaking off to party with his friends. Just then, a silhouette steps forward from the dark and I freeze in terror until I recognize the slightly hopeful idiot blabbermouth. "You could have given me a heart attack, you dumbo. What are you doing here hiding in the shadows?" I hit him on the shoulder to emphasize how ominous his entry was. "Next time I will probably do get a heart attack when you shine light on your face while walking out of shadows like a bad movie villain."

There was more coming but I am suddenly out of breath as Shane attacks me for a hug and squeezes so tight that my ribcage feels like creaking. It is only as I am about to open my mouth to make a poor attempt of a joke when I finally hear what he has been chanting while hugging me to death, "You're alive! Thank god you're alive!"

If I was willing to be insensitive, I would have added how hard he was trying to make that sentence false but I don't dare make a mockery out of his fears. "Can't breathe! Need air." I gasp out before he realizes how hard his grip is and releases me with an "Oh, sorry!"

Stepping back, he asks now with relief clear in his voice. "You have no idea how worried I was!" Then he takes a pause and asks me with a strangely bracing tone, "That scream... that was a girl's voice. What exactly did happen inside?" It is as if his question bring forward all the things that I had slowly began to take my mind away from and I nearly fall under the weight of guilt and despair and disappointment.

"Not now. Not here." I manage to speak and he nods understandingly. Oh boy, you have absolutely no idea. "How about the crypt?" I suggest. It would feel strangely comfortable for this discussion. He simply nods again and we walk away from the house where my entire life changed in a few short hours without looking back even once. And the thing that disturbs me the most is the absence of any sort of eyes staring at my back from the house and how uncomfortable I feel about this loss. "Goodbye, Daisy." I murmur into the air in a low voice.

"Did you say something?" Shane asks in response. I simply shake my head in no. There's nothing left to be said now.

The crypt takes us less than ten minutes to reach from the McCain mansion and once we settle inside it, I tell him everything that happened. What we said, what I felt, how it all was... everything finally finds a release from me. And when I am done an hour later, Shane is dumbstruck with his mouth hanging open. "Is this a joke?" Shane asks before continuing. "Holy... God that sounds like a movie script. If it weren't you, I would have suspected the person to be pulling my leg. You aren't, are you though?" There's barely a pause for me to open my mouth, let alone speak, before he continues. "Nah, you can't be lying. I could read the emotions off your face." Then with a pause he asks again. "Really? Wow, that's a lot to take in."

We sit together in silence as he tries to understand all that he heard just now while my mind wanders off to her again. What is she doing now? Has she already forgotten me? Or does she wait with the open door, hoping to have me back again? Wondering about things could be is one thing but what I'm really confused is what I really want to happen. Do I really want to go back there or do I just want her to miss me too? Even if I do take back what I said, is there anything that I could have spoken to end things on a better note in the situation we were in? Well obviously I could have been more understanding but would have been of any use in the end when she was still a ghost and I was still alive? Because one thing was clear that I wasn't ready to die just yet to be with her. That's corny and crazy and stupid and just plain idiotic.

A sudden movement snaps me out of the thoughts and I jerk away in surprise. Realizing that it was only Shane being Shane, I relax. "Calm down a little, would ya? You already have tried to give me several heart attacks in one day."

"I think you should go back." He says. There's no easing in, no indirect approach or any other way of saying it in other words. He simply blurts out what he thinks about this all.

"What? Why?" I immediately shout. "Out of all that I told you, how in the hell did you come up with that idea?" He simply gives me a grin and asks the one question that all my confused thoughts have been directed towards.

"Do you want to go back to her or not?"

As hard as I try, I cannot bring myself to lie. "Yes." I sigh. "Now why do you think I should go back? And even if I do go back, there is a very high chance she won't even let me in the house."

"And why is that any reason to stop?" He let out a huff and then came by me. I scooted over to make space for him to sit. "Buddy, you are in love. Though with a ghost who frankly scares me shitless. But still, it's love, man. What have you got to fight for if you won't even fight for your love?"

"But you know what she did." I try to protest but he fixes me with a droll look that just screams 'yeah, and so what?' Clearly he sees through the lies I have been holding on to for so long.

"She did what she thought would be a good punishment. Why do you think that was unfair? Is it for any reason other than the fact that you were the one being punished?" He barely gave me enough time to understand what I heard, let alone process it, when he continued again. "Of course, you already know. You told her that already. So what do you do next about the two of you?"

"I... I don't know. I am not getting what you are implying." I stutter as I try to see what he's leading to.

"God, you sure do need a lot of handholding when it comes to this love story of yours. Idiot, with no future for the two of you, you need to move on!" He almost shouts. Then he takes a deep breath and continues in a much controlled tone. "And I know that you, being the caring you, won't be able to move on until she's okay. Now even I know that facing a fate of forgetting everything and fading away in the next fifty years is not okay. So now try again. What do you do next?"

"I'll help her get free?" The question comes out slowly but as I speak, I realize that this is what I should really be doing now.

"There shouldn't be a question mark at the end of that line, you slowpoke!" He chastises me and then continues. "Now to do this, you need to get back to the mansion." Then with a slow voice, he adds what I'm probably not supposed to hear, "And now you continue your journey through the longest night of your life." Can't disagree there, I mentally remark, and stand up to walk back to the mansion.

"By the way," I suddenly stop and turn as a thought occurs and have to balance myself when Shawn knocks into me with a grunted 'thanks for the warning', "Can I have a watch or something? It's odd to be there. I feel like I have been there for days even when it has only been hours." It is obvious that a witty response lies on the tip of his tongue but he holds it in and silently unfastens the watch he's wearing and hands it over.

"Remember to bring it back." He warns me as he hands it over. As I fasten it on my wrist, he continues, "Now how are you going to get back in?" That's a very good question. I think, there's no doubt that the front door would be now locked for me. Perhaps there's a window?

"Judging from the look on your face, it would be safe to say that you don't know either." Shane comments before starting to walk ahead of me. "We'll just figure it out there then. Come on, let's go. I need my sleep too." My mind must be on overdrive because that simple comment makes me realize that I haven't felt even the slightest bit of tiredness despite the long day and night. I mean the early morning lacrosse practice, then the boring classes, then the after school practice should have been enough to wear me out. But on top of it all, the entire house chores I did to take my mind off of the fear of this night hadn't given me one second of rest. And then I had spent almost the entire night in there. So how come I wasn't sleepy at all? I don't get to come up to the conclusion though because Shane gives me one. "And you? Well, you're headed for one big crash. Adrenaline helps only for so long." Well, that's plausible.

We walk back the rest of the way in silence. When we do get there, I see that what I feared is true. The front door is slammed shut just how I left it. And it seems Daisy has locked it. Shane bothers to try to free it but I know she won't let it open. I don't know how but I know that she's watching me right now from one of the windows. She won't let me in, I realize sadly. I turn around to go back and step off the porch when Shane stops me. Or well, his terrible imitation of a chicken does.

"Oh come on, Peters." He shouts even though we are less than three steps apart. "You were so excited to go back in. Giving up already?" He barely waits for me to process what he said before continuing. "Let's check out the back. Perhaps a window will be open." Even from where I stand, I see that this is highly unlikely since the windows have been boarded up. Still, I humour him.

"Lead the way." As we move to the side, being as noisy as we can since the only person who can hear us already knows we're here, I see exactly what I predicted: boarded windows. All of a sudden, I run into something and let out an 'Oof!' before recognizing it as Shane's back. "A warning next time would be fine," I mutter as I back up a little and then look at his stiffened form staring at something.

My first instinct is that perhaps he saw Daisy and I instantly whip my head up to look for her. It takes me a few seconds to realize that Daisy isn't anywhere visible. I look down at Shane, about to ask him what exactly he was looking at when he speaks. "That window is open." Shocked, my eyes move directly to where he is staring and I see that he's right. I also recognize the room in which it exists. Of all the rooms, she kept her own window open. Did she do it so she wouldn't feel lonely?

With no prior signs, a wind picks up and as it fights the house for passage, it raises a musical tune. I am no expert in music composition but the feelings it evokes in me are obviously bittersweet and reminiscent. Through some dormant part of my mind, which is awakened at the tune, I come up with a phrase for the tune. "Selfless decision, selfish love. Bound in the memories, a beautiful dove. Stuck in the memories of loved ones lost, Oh, fear has her pay a heavy cost." I don't realize I have spoken them aloud until Shane turns around and asks me if I said something.

I shake my head in negative as a protective feeling comes over me towards this small passage. It's not ready and it's not for him, my mind tells me. He looks at me oddly before continuing, "Well that window is at the first floor so climbing it alone isn't possible." Then with a sigh, he adds. "Come on then, climb on me to get there. And if you break my back, I'll kill you." Resisting the urge to make a joke is hard but this is not the time or the place for one. We do as he follows and my fingers just fail short of grabbing a hold strong enough to pull myself over.

"Hold still already! It's time to use all those muscles. Come on, push me up a little more higher. I'm almost there. Hurry before she realizes we're doing this. Wait, why are your legs shaking?" I add the last part when I notice how badly they are shaking. His eyes are closed and his entire body is trembling. He responds with an unintelligible grunt and I know that I have to risk a jump now before we both fall.

Just then, I'm lifted a little more and am able to get a strong hold on the windowsill less than a second before Shane falls. I pull myself over and then look down at Shane while calling out a thanks. But I stop before a single sound escapes my mouth and I suspect that I saw something that I only imagined. But it's kind of hard to imagine solid ground lowering back to its normal ground level. The rise was just enough to push me through. And this means only one thing, my mind tells me and I immediately turn around. It is what I suspected.

"What are you doing back here, Nick Demming Peters?" She speaks, her form alternating between visible and invisible. It is clear that she holds some sort of mask over her emotions for her voice is blank and I can sense nothing from her. I look at her in concern, wondering if she has enough strength left after that extra push of power. What I don't do is respond because my mind is now suddenly a clean slate.

"Answer me, why are you back here?" She asks again and this time, I hear the emotions she's trying to hide. Confusion, excitement, desperation, joy, hurt. And this realization, that she hasn't forgotten me, is the strength that makes me voice my true answer.

"For you."
Chapter 15

Daisy's POV

Don't give in. Don't even think about going easy on him. I mentally chant as we face off. His two words, laced with absolute honesty, were enough to wipe away the worst of what happened a little while ago. I can bet that if I were alive, my heartbeat would have been through the roof from all this happiness I am feeling. Because in this moment, beneath all the anger and coldness, I can only think of one thing. He's back.

"After what you said, I really doubt the truth of that statement." I speak up and am surprised at how natural my anger sounds. It seems that not all of my anger was wiped away. "And don't bother trying to explain yourself. There's nothing to say." Though I really want you to. "Honestly, I don't think I even want to bother with you ever again. So goodbye, Nick Demming Peters." With that I use whatever power still remains in me and somehow manage to lift him up in the air.

He yelps in surprise as his feet leave the ground and then is dragged towards the main door which is now open. I walk with him to the top of the staircase and then he is being lowered down towards the exit. He struggles but since I even muted him temporarily, he can't do anything. I watch him leave sadly, wanting him to stay but knowing he doesn't deserve a second chance after all that happened.

And that's when my powers fail me again. One second he's in the air above the couch and in the next, he's sitting on it as my spell dissipated. Neither of us speak as we stare at each other from the couch to the top of the staircase and back. And then I hear the house creak once again. I feel my face contract and I curse myself for letting emotion show, even if to him. I have no idea how but it feels like he's by my side in the next second. Before he can touch, my solid form fails and I'm invisible again. It doesn't stop him from forming an embrace around where I'm supposed to be, though the circle is obviously way too large. "I did not return for a second chance, Daisy McCain. I only returned to let have your forever. There was never a true hope for us but there is a chance for you to be free. I want you to be able to return to your family." He's certainly pushing every button that needs to be pushed. Though an invisible tear falls down, it finds no other joining in the descent as I finally get my emotions in control.

After making sure that my voice would be stable, I speak. "First of all, back off a little. I need some space to feel comfortable right now. And secondly, exactly how do you plan to do this?" He does move back but only gives me a shrug in response. Instantly, my annoyance peaks from nothing to unbelievable. I placed all this faith in a shrug?!

He smiles, oh the nerve of this boy, on seeing my expression – oh wait, I'm invisible. "What are you smiling about?" The tone makes it clear that this is no time for jokes. His smile somehow grows even bigger and I have all the confirmation I need that this is about me. "Tell me!"

"Well, having spent the last few hours with you gave me a pretty good idea of your reactions and it isn't hard to know your reaction in those uncharacteristic silence on seeing my shrug. And my imagination produced a result that would probably matches the real expression you had, which undoubtedly was funny." Nick explained and after taking a second to get all that he implied, I frowned at him with my hands at my hips. He frowned back at me in response with his hands at his hips as well and the expression was so like me that my eyes instantly drifted to see if I was visible. I wasn't. Oh my god, he really did get me right!

Still, truth wasn't an option. "That's so not me, you know." I spoke as I dropped the pose before I turned visible and my lie was exposed. "And for someone who has only spent a few hours with me, you sure think you know a lot about me." He dropped the pose – thankfully because that was unnerving – and then smiled at me.

"I have a suspicion that you just lied to me about the pose. As for thinking about knowing you? If one got the source so beautiful and expressive like you, it would be hard to not notice your every movement." He spoke and as soon as he finished, a smile broke out on my face. Then all of his words penetrated and the smile was a memory of spring during the middle of winter.

"My tears are beautiful to you? My anger is expressive to you?" I shriek. "Get away from me, you creep!" I shout at him and then run down the stairs, or perhaps I should say I glided down them noiselessly. I was glad for this because I didn't want him, or even me for that matter, running on these unreliable stairs. It's great that I can fly –

My mental commentary stops short as the power of flying fails me and I fall onto the edge of a step, about to topple downwards. Good thing is that I'm dead, I think and then add, but it still is going to hurt. What happens next occurs in milliseconds. I turn visible and Nick immediately shouts my name as he sees me about to fall. As if knowing that he won't be able to save me if he's slow AND he won't be able to save himself from slipping if he runs – while forgetting I'm dead and won't really be hurt – he runs to grab me and pulls me towards him even as he runs towards me. And as soon as he touches me, he ducks and sits down on the stairs. And then we slip down the fourteen stairs together.

I don't intend to sound uncaring but the situation and his repeated 'oof!' just bring out the giggles in me that don't pause even when we stop at the bottom of the jerking ride. And while I remain unharmed, I have no doubt that his derriere is quite punished. Next moment, I am sad that this happened unintentionally and I didn't come up with such a punishment. Delivering it would have been fun! And the mind's imagination of a repeat performance of the scene sets off another round of giggles.

"No wonder people rarely want to be gentlemen these days." Nick complained while I moved off of him. "Abuses are all I am getting from one of that era. Tell me, were all of you girls like this? So reckless and then when in danger, mocking the one who risked himself to save you while you were being saved?"

The giggles stop almost immediately. "What did you just say? Did you call me reckless? And I mock the one who risked himself to save me while I was being mocked?" I nearly snarl at him. "Tell me, Nick, is it my fault that you forgot that I'm dead and can't really be hurt?" Sadly, it seems he did because his mouth is left hanging open on hearing my statement. "You're hopeless." I shake my head at him. Before turning around and walking away, I add. "Thanks though."

I proceed to the blanket that still is on the ground from the moment it was kept there for our pretend-date, though it is clear now that nothing of it was a pretend for either of us. I sit down on it, close my eyes and hear rather than see Nick following suit. For a moment, there's no sound made by either of us and we both hear only the strange silence of the dead house. The vacuum makes a tiny whistling sound that can only be noticed if paid attention to. I know when Nick notices it only moments later when I hear his clothes crinkle while he looks around to identify the direction of the source of sound. "Is it the mice I hear now?" He speaks and I pause for a moment to check if I missed that sound.

"Thankfully, no." I tell him upon finding no sound from the mice. "Though it is surprising how that many mice ended up in the basement and manage to remain quiet. No, the whistling sound that I can hear is from the broken plumbing. Kind of gives the place a spooky feel no? Perfect to suit my presence in this haunted house." Less than a moment passes before I break the silence again. "Though I do wish it was something more pleasant than whistling. Or at least more entertaining."

Nick has no reply to that and I internally smile, knowing that coming up with a response to that type of statement is very difficult. What one says in such cases, I wonder. Do they risk sounding flippant of your situation by saying 'if not this place then what would you have rather haunted?' Because no one chooses to stay for fun. Or do they sound weirdly helpful with a 'do you want me to look at it?' Because that just sounds creepy. A loud exhale snaps me out of these odd thoughts and I focus on Nick. Specifically on what he said he was back for.

"So," I ask him. "Have you come up with any idea of why I'm still here?" He doesn't react to my words at all, as if he didn't hear them. He still looks unnerved by the whistling. I note this as I try to think of something to distract him from the noise. Giving up almost immediately, I choose the obvious route. SLAP!

"Ouch!" He yells. "What was that for?" He rubs his slapped left cheek while looking at me in some anger and confusion. That anger would be probably better used if this dog had some bite along with the bark, I think, though it is nice that there isn't any.

"Next time when someone speaks," I speak haughtily, as if what I had just spoken could have cured world hunger. "Pay attention. Now, do you have any sort of explanation for why I'm still here?"

He goes quiet again and I raise my hand again, conspicuously doing it so that he notices. Good for him, he does. "Let me think, for goodness' sake! This isn't a simple yes or no question. If you really are feeling such impatience, then how about you think as well of a reason why you are still here?"

I feel my eyes narrow at him. Did he just tell me off? Before I can get worked up on that, he speaks up. "Well, two minds are better than one. So let's see what we come up with." He speaks before starting to explain. "I'm going to say what I've come up with. I need you to add or counter, as per requirement." I nod when he pauses to look at me expectantly. What am I? A five year old? Of course I got that!

"You had a choice to leave but you didn't." Duh! "Though we have no means of confirming, we can presume that this choice wasn't just limited to you, though none have ever taken it." As far as we know. Boring! I mentally comment. "So you stayed and the reason for this was your family and friends and are you high on something ghostly?" I am nodding until I realize what he finished with.

I shriek. "What did you just say?" He is looking at me with a strange puzzled expression.

"I asked you if you are high on something. You know, intoxicated by some narcotic substance." He waits for a beat before continuing. "Because since I have come back into the house, you have been behaving oddly. So many mood swings, such indifference to something that would be obviously beneficial to you, and all those faces you have been making... they all point to substance abuse. So I have to ask you, are you high?" Then something seems to come to his mind. "Um, do even ghost girls have... uh, that time of the month?"

If I were alive, I would have been mistakable for a tomato at that question. No matter what year you lived in, no one ever had the right to ask that question. My response to such an embarrassing and offending question is to have a block of wood from the ruins of what was once eastern parlour of the house fall on his head. "That's all I am saying on that matter." My voice sounds strangled as he lets out an 'ow!' and I clear my throat to continue. "And I'm not high. All these signs of disinterest are simply signs that I have absolutely no trust in your success. Don't get too presumptuous."

"Oh ye of little faith, give it all to me." Nick says in a grave tone that sounds absolutely silly and somewhat pacifying. "I meant no offense with any of my questions. Now let's continue then."

"Ok, so we have you staying here because of your friends and family. Then Samuel came back. Your murdered got caught. Samuel died. George remarried. George left. Your father died. George died. And everyone you stayed for is now dead. Am I right?" Seeing my shocked look, he apologizes. "I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. I didn't mean to sound so uncaring."

"Apology not accepted. But yeah, you're right. Carry on." I say in a tone that shows how much I'm still shocked at his words. Even my mind can't come up with some comment to distract me from the seriousness of this moment.

"I really am sorry for that, Daisy." He repeats the apology but then he continues. "So that means the reason you didn't leave initially was later gone. In simpler terms, your anchor was now gone. But you clearly didn't leave. So obviously that means something new now binds you here."

"Do you have even believe in what you are babbling?" I ask him when he takes a moment to catch up on breath. I must be getting used to his 'just try guessing' approach because when he hesitantly shakes his head in a no, I am only amused. Anger doesn't really strike. "Go on, then."

He is surprised by my lack of anger, so much that he stutters initially. Guess he was making his excuses ready, no? Then, after a moment of composing himself, he continues. "As I said, something else now binds you here. After having my mind let loose, I can only think of asking you about this. What is your prized possession? The one thing that you just can't let go of?" He's barely finished the question before his eyes go wide and we both recognize what he's talking about. And now, the anger's here.

"Don't you even think about doing something to it!" I hiss in anger at him and instantly move to my room, locking it from inside and holding the ring close to me. I carefully cradle the ring, feeling all my moments with Samuel embedded in it, and gently whisper through my clogged throat.

"I love you Samuel and I will never let you go."
Chapter 16

Nick's POV

Well that could have been handled better. I commented mentally and then began to climb the stairs. Part of me wanted to stomp on them for the pain they had inflicted but I resisted in fear of having them collapse under me. "Daisy, at least hear me out." I call out before realizing that I don't exactly have anything to convince her with. All that I have has already been used in getting in. And I don't really think I have something new to pull it off.

I get to the top of the stairs but pause before knocking. My mind is running rampant with reasons why I shouldn't knock on the door and let her keep the ring. After all, it is the reason for her hope and that truth overpowers the possibility of it being her prison as well.

And then a new thought sneaks in. Do I really want her to go away? My mouth drops open as this thought summons the near-instantaneous response of a shouted mental 'NO!' If I can't even convince myself that she needs to leave, how will I ever convince her?

The watch then chimes and I see that it is three in the morning now. Speak something, the still sane part of me – or is it insane? – urges me. This will give you some time to think of something. There's no reason to be sure that her game still won't lock you within once it is morning.

"Daisy," I start softly. "I understand how you feel, though probably not to the extent you do. I think we both made it pretty clear that we have feelings towards each other. We both said that we loved each other and those are some pretty powerful claims to make since we haven't even known for longer than this night so far and even then, we have spent some of it under the influence of other contradictory feelings." I take a breath and wish under my breath that I get this next part out correctly.

"I don't know if these claims we made are real or just elaborations on our liking for each other. I would like to believe that these are real. But what I do know is that, as much as I want otherwise, we don't have more than the present to have each other. You ran, Daisy, because you don't want to lose the sole reason of your hope. But did you think of me? Of what I am going through right now? It isn't easy to even think of letting you go and here I have to try to convince you to leave while I still haven't really accepted it." My eyes go wide and my words stop as I realize what I just said. Idiot, that is not helpful at all!

"Maybe we would have been perfect," I change the subject immediately so as to take away her focus from my own denial at letting her go. "Or maybe we wouldn't have lasted a day. But there is no way to know. After all, you being dead kind of makes it hard to have a meaningful relationship. I would have loved you like I do now but there would always be a fear in my mind of losing you one day permanently. You would have cared for me too but it would still be possible that you might someday begin to wonder if I stayed with you not out of love but pity. We would have been perfect on the outside while hurting each other inside." My mood turns downward as my mind begins to scream again at the nonsense I am yelling. "You cannot know Daisy how much I wish I had been born in your time. Perhaps then we would have been together in life."

"Perhaps..." Daisy's voice comes from the other side of the door and I realize that I am no longer standing with my hand stuck mid-air. Instead I am sitting on the dusty ground with my back to the door and from the sound, it seems she is too on the other side. Her voice is still scratchy as she continues. "But you wouldn't have fit in my world. There's a lot that makes you stand out. And isn't that a bitter truth? We want to be together, if not for ever then at least until we were good for each other, but neither of us belong in other's world." She pauses and we are both quiet for a moment before she continues. "Or perhaps, you were indeed born in my time. And we did have feelings for each other. But we never spoke the words of declaration to each other."

It isn't difficult to guess where she's going. "You think I was Samuel, princess?" I use his nickname for her as I try to tease her. "You aren't sitting there and wondering if this is a love story of the ghost girl and her reincarnated love, are you? Because I hate to tell you this but I have no memories if I was this person."

"No, that was wishful thinking that got this all started." Daisy murmurs and though still a little low, I hear some joy in her voice. It's easy as breathing to imagine her smiling at nothing while saying these words. Or perhaps she stares at the ring right this moment. "And we have both been falling down this crazy rabbit hole together." She takes a pause and we again let the silence brew between us.

"So what now, Nick? Where do we go from here? We have both played games with each other, hurt each other, confessed out lives to each other and shouted at each other. And now we sit at the two opposite sides of this door, uncertain of what do we do now. Do you have any suggestions?"

"No, not really." I speak up after some time of hard thinking. "I have no idea of where do we go, only that we cannot stay here forever." I try to think of something to distract us and then remember something I had to say to her. "You know something. When I was standing in front of you when I re-entered, I realized that forever is a long time. But how we spend it is a matter of what emotion fills our strongest memory. Once, when I was young and naïve, I would have wished for it to be peace. But when I was outside, I somehow knew that regret would be my strongest emotion."

"You have no idea how terrible it was to leave you in here. I don't want you fade out, Daisy. I want you to go on, meet your family and George and friends, and then be reborn. I want you to live again and not be stuck in any prison. And this is why I asked you for this task. I realize it is near impossible for you but I just can't see some other way."

"Well you just want to press that sore nerve, do you?" She comments, not entirely unoffended. "You know so much of me, Nick, yet I know nothing of you. Tell me who you are and I will open the door to give you one last chance to convince me."

"Well, I have never done this before, so do give me some time to think of what to say." I speak, surprised at her offer. I am not at all sure of what to say and what not to but then I realize that it doesn't matter what secrets I tell her. They will all be safe with her. "My name is Nick Demming Peters and I was born in Anastasia to Mary and John Peters on August 20, 1998. I have a little sister Amy and I am proud to admit that I love them all. I'm a little bullheaded and overcompetitive but I'm loyal to a fault. You could say that I am what people nowadays call a normal teenager. I'm petty, jealous and hotheaded teen who loves playing lacrosse, video games and hanging out with friends. I can get addicted to oily, unhealthy food and so rarely consume them."

"I would ask you to describe yourself but over the ages, I have seen people always self-depricate so I won't bother." Daisy responds from the other side. "That's all good and fine. No point in asking about trivial stuff that we won't really care about. So tell me. What brought you to this point?"

I smile, acknowledging the point she made about useless details considering the amount of time we had. "It all started with a girl. My best friend Shane, the one you kicked out, liked a girl in our class and was too scared of her elder brother to ask her out."

"So you asked her out and intended to send him in your place, didn't you?" She interjected with a smile in her voice.

"It's rude to interrupt." I tried for a stern voice but I couldn't help the pleasure in the way we thought of. "But yes. That is what was supposed to happen. Only Shane didn't take it that way. And hence the bet."

"To steal my ring?" She interrupted once again. There was no offense in her voice, only curiosity.

"The local lore was there lived a ghost girl in this house who had an exquisite necklace in this house. Two people had supposedly died in this place while looking for it. So my dare was to bring that necklace or stay the night. I was honestly too scared of the unknown ghost to brave the whole night." I paused once again, expecting her to interrupt once again about how the death was a myth but there's only silence. "Daisy?"

The sob that comes out from the other side is a shock that stills every inch of me.

"It was an accident." Daisy confesses through her tears and my heart stills as this new truth about her emerges. "I didn't mean to cause that fire." My heart aches to be with her, to comfort her. My mind is more critical, unable to comprehend what I am hearing.

Owing the victims the dignity of being remembered, I interrupt her and ask in a blank voice. "Who were they?" There's no answer. Only Daisy's sobs fill the place. And in that moment, I am conflicted about the door, unlike all the time before. Though previously I had just wanted it gone, I half want it to stay forever shut so I may never confront her while the other half of me want it to open so I can comfort her. My patience runs out though when she doesn't respond for some time. This isn't just about her. "Who were they?" I almost shout at the door, not even realizing when I turned around to stare at the door.

What comes first from the other side is a barely audible mumble. "I didn't hear that Daisy. Speak louder."

"I can't. It's too humiliating." She repeats and I almost bang my head in frustration. "There's no way to make this easy to speak, Nick. Please let this be."

Oh, how hard I have to fight myself against taking that easy route, I can never confess to another soul. But still, at the pain in her voice, I hesitate. But as I just noted, it is not about us, is it? No, this is about the victims. "Tell me, Daisy, and let us get this over with."

"There can be no getting over with this, Nick, and I will only tell you this much as my answer: They didn't seek the necklace." I still, unable to comprehend what they could have possibly sought in here.

"Don't play games here, Daisy. Two people died." I warn her but rather than getting this over with, it enrages her.

"Do you think this is a game to me? Two people died because of me and you think I am here playing games?" She yelled. "If this is what you think of me then you don't deserve anything from me. I have told you all you need to know." And with that, I feel her leave the other side of the door and move away from me, though I don't know where.

"Great handling, Nick. Great handling." I mutter to myself in frustration. There must be some part of my mind that must have been actively searching for the answer for I still as soon as I realize who they are.

"Oh, shit! What have I done?"
Chapter 17

Daisy's POV

"Stupid, pushy, hypocrite." I keep muttering insults to him, even if they don't really apply, as I sit on the roof of the house. I feel way too incensed to even smile at the lovely sight. The night seems to be almost over and I finally let the beauty of the sight drive away my inner turmoil. How could I not have enjoyed such simple treasures while alive? I wonder and then, with my attention distracted from the view, feel the guilt and pain arise within me as I remember why the things took a bad turn.

I try not let it consume me, like it used to before, but I let the memories run their course. I steel myself to not react to the screams, to the sight as I tried fruitlessly to avert the damage. I still remember the terror in their eyes and I have to force myself to remember what happened next. The way their charred bodies had looked when the fire was put out. How the authorities had been puzzled by the fire and I had to scare them into leaving this place alone after they had taken the remains away. I try to control myself but when I finally return to the present and find my eyes shut, I know without any doubt that I failed.

"I am so sorry. You two know that, don't you? I didn't mean to." I say out loud to the night sky, knowing that even if they hear me, no one alive can hear my words. Not even Nick. At the mere thought of his name, I flinch as I remember his tone. He had been angry and trying to be respectful towards the victims, he had reasoned. But I had heard the hurt in his tone as well, recognizing what a shock it must have been to him to realize that I was capable of such a thing too. Did he realize, though, that the guilt of this was the reason why she hadn't tried to free herself from this prison? That, by only forgetting this in his company, she had been willing to give her freedom a chance?

I was a killer and killers deserved no mercy. After all, hadn't I haunted Selena in her cell as well, driving her to insanity? Hadn't I ensured she received the full punishment? So why should I not be punished? And if fading out was my punishment, why should I try to run from it? I reasoned with myself, feeling conflicted by the guilt and the desire to be free.

"Daisy! Where are you?" Nick frantically searches for me within the house and the shout yanks me out of this unhappy state of mind I had been sinking into. No, if I have to make my choice, I need to do this on my own. No one else can help me or I will never really let go of this guilt.

I let the outer façade of the place crumble a little without affecting the insides. My mind reasons that I am doing this to avoid giving Nick any sort of hint about my present location. My heart knows that it is because the outside is a lie and I just can't bring myself to risk the inside just for some soul-searching. Anyhow, the release of control gives me just enough magical power to summon the illusion of scales and grey pebbles. As I would confess, the pebbles would turn either white, signifying goodness, or black, signifying my darkness. I have them such that each of them would resize themselves according to the weight of the situation, uninfluenced by my personal feelings regarding the manner.

"It's time to face your judgement, Daisy McCain." I speak to myself and then let my judgement begin. I pick up one of the pebbles and start the first confession. "Killing two people in my house in a fire accident that I lost control of. The fire started as an accident and the victims suffered a lot before dying." The pebble grows very heavy and black and I place it on the scales while wondering if I can compensate for it at all.

The hand then picks another pebble and I make a second confession that is deeply entwined with the first one. "I dropped the chandelier on the two who got stuck in the fire once their death was inevitable. It killed them off instantly. They didn't suffer while their bodies charred." The now whitened pebble counters the weight of the black and I see the black lose some of the dominance of the scales.

"I played cruel games with the boy who tried to steal my beloved possession for the sake of a stupid dare." I confess and to my surprise, the pebble disappears rather than changing colours. "Hmm, I guess that means that neither side deserves the weight."

"I chose to stay when I should have moved on upon death." The pebble turns black but its size is unaffected.

"I let go of my loved ones when it was clear that they needed to move on." The pebble grows slightly while turning white and I let myself smile at the hope upon seeing them trying to even out the first dark.

And so it continues for the rest of the pebbles as I bare all my secrets and guilt and pride to the scales and let them decide if my life was worth redemption. The moon is nearing the end of its journey by the time I am done and the scales are nearly even. With all that I've done and said, that's really equals a zero? I wonder before playing with the final two pebbles in my hand and decide to confront my most recent two realizations.

"I feel guilty for wanting someone who has his whole life in front of him while he seeks to help me move on from this world. I feel like I want to stay till the end just to be with him." The pebble turns dark and I see the scales tilt very slightly in the favour of the dark. Do they support me or do they think I don't deserve redemption because I don't seem to want it?

"Are you sure about that?" The familiar male calls out from behind me and I jump, almost dropping the last pebble on the ground. And sure enough, my eyes find Nick Demming Peters standing just far enough to not be noticed by me. I suddenly note that I haven't heard him call out to me for a long time now. How long has he been here? What did he hear?

Seeing my surprised look, he tries to give me a smile but it doesn't come off very convincing. And then, he confirms what I feared. "And yes, I did hear almost every confession, starting from the one of letting go of your loved ones when they needed to move on."

I flinch at the realization that this boy had just seen me confess all my darkest sins and then confess my desire for him out loud. I freeze in my spot as he carefully walks over to me, even though I magically make sure he doesn't slip in his approach even if it means slightly butchering the original architecture of the roof. In the dark night, I can't see the expression on his face and am unable to guess what sort of expression he has from his stiff body posture.

A wind blows from somewhere and I recognize that I am in my physical form just as he raises his right hand slowly towards my cheek. I don't move, resisting the equally strong urges of my body to lean in and flinch away. The hand gets closer to my left cheek and I feel the miniscule moment freeze for eternity. Then the eternity ends and he steps into the moonlight from the shade of the trees and his hand makes contact.

The softness of the touch shocks me to the core, as if transforming my very existence in that touch.

"I feel the same way about you, Daisy McCain and I don't want to let go of you either. The right thing shouldn't matter between us but it does. Even though you clearly laid bare all your secrets to me unintentionally, I still want you as much as I did before, if not more." I lean into his hand to enjoy this first contact between us and am pleased to feel calluses on his hand. Somehow, it feels just right on him.

I desire this moment to last until the moment I fade out. For this is my heaven.

"But we can't always get what we want, Daisy." He speaks softly, breaking the moment irrevocably with the truth. "Have you thought of what it would mean to stay? What it would mean to me to have you disappear one day in the future while knowing all the while that it is my fault that you would never be reborn again? Have you thought of how I will deal with a life without you after there's no hope of ever reuniting with you?" The questions raise a point I never considered before and I hold back a shiver of fear at the desperation that would consume me should our roles be reversed.

And that's when he dealt the final blow. "You are it for me, Daisy McCain." He said while stroking my right cheek with the knuckles of his left hand gently. "There would never be another who I can love like I have fallen in love with you during this night. I will go on living either way but I would really like to have the comfort of knowing that we would have a chance to reunite. Someday. Somewhere."

"So what would you choose? Think of me and tell me, do you want to stay or do you want to leave?" And just like always, in that moment, the binding fears disappear. All I know is him and what I want is to make him happy.

"I'll leave. For you, I'll leave."

The last pebble disappears from my hand and I feel Nick's entire body freeze as he peers over me at the scales. I turn slowly in fear of having failed in passing this personal judgement. "I did nothing to help or hurt you. I was just the voice of reason you seemed to be hell bent on ignoring." His voice is choked and I know why as soon as I bring my eyes back to the scales that are tipping to one of the sides very heavily.

And just like that, I finally accept the truth. I let the weight of uncertainty disappear from my shoulders and I quickly turn around to Nick, giving him a small smile at the bittersweet realization. Having done their job, the scales begin to disappear and I see how heavily their decision weighs on him, though he tries to hide it from me.

"No right choices, no?" I whisper at him and a chuckle escapes out of him, despite the sadness. And then, I turn around and move to his side as we see the last remnants of the scales disappear from the sight. I let myself lean my head on his right shoulder and then speak the words that I almost have to force out of my mouth.

"The scales tipped to the white. Does this really mean it's time for the final goodbye?"
Chapter 18

Nick's POV

"Yes. I fear it is." I answer her with just enough sadness so that none of my hurt leaks out from within. The way her face softens into that tender expression tells me that she knows, though.

"But what you ask me to give up..." she starts but doesn't finish. She doesn't have to. It can end in so many ways and I have a very good idea that she means them all.

"We've been over this, Daisy. If you want to be free, you need to let go of what once was. If you don't let go of the Samuel that once was your potential true love, you cannot hope to reunite with him in a different life and time." It is surprising to feel such a huge amount of heartache on speaking true love and someone else's name in the same sentence to her. So, to console myself more than her, I add, "If you can't finish this journey, how will we meet again in a new place and time?"

"You are a very special man, Nick Demming Peters." She adds in a whisper that is laced with emotions I can't decipher. I just know that I'm happy to have them. "If we met when I was alive, if we had met in my time, I would have run from the wedding aisle from George, from even Samuel perhaps, to be with you." Could she be any more special? She understood what I was trying to hide. "You would be worth sacrificing everything."

Just like she did, it isn't hard for me to understand the sadness of her words either. "No one will ever steal what is yours now. There won't be another for me, Daisy. No one worth sacrificing everything for me." The thought of a lonely existence is painful but not as much as of living a lie of loving someone else.

Her eyes widen a fraction as if something just occurred to her but I can't see much on her face in the dark night that's nearly over. I want to ask her but I don't, letting her have a few secrets. "It's been a long night, no?"

"The longest." The wistful smile is more than enough of a hint of the unspoken.

"And the best that has ever been." I add and she doesn't even need to reply. We both know it is the truth.

"But the night now draws to a close." I sadly note and this time, her nod is slower, as if showing her hesitation in accepting this fact. "And though it has been an unforgettable adventure, it is time to prepare to return to the world of the living."

"And to say goodbye." She repeats and I am overwhelmed by the desire to just walk away from all this. As if there's a secret way to be together and not have to ever make this kind of decision. But there isn't. After what I have seen of her, I'm not sure she will ever be this strong to be able to try breaking free of this sentence. The way she looks, like she is holding herself back, is more than enough of an indicator that she too is resisting the urge.

It has been a long night and a lot has been said and done. But still, I feel like there is a huge variety of things we can try. A lifetime worth of words, I note mentally. I lose myself in thoughts so deep that she almost shouts to get my attention. "Yes?"

"I was wondering..." She hesitates for some unknown reason before continuing. "Would you like a tour of my house?" The surprise overcomes any other emotion that might appear and I can almost feel her preparing to back track. So I quickly start nodding.

"Yes. Absolutely yes." I speak way too eagerly and though tinted with sadness, her smile at my response is still blinding.

"Come on then." With those words, she leads me back to the entrance. If there's one thing that I would really like to share, the way we came down would be it. We flew down, like really flew down from the roof and landed on the entrance. Her presence was the only thing that kept me grounded. It had no effect on keeping my forgotten accomplice in check of his behaviour though.

"OH MY GOD! I want to try it too!" Shane screams as soon as we land and Daisy disappears instantly, shocked at the sudden realization that our private moment was intruded. He had been sitting at the porch and we landed almost directly in front of him. "Hey Nick! Can you ask your invisible girlfr-"

"SHUT UP!" I sharply shout before he finishes that word and thankfully he responds. Although a better part of me notes that what I should really be thankful about it is that we didn't wake up the neighbours with our shouts. To my extreme annoyance, Shane gives me glare and foes back to sitting with a pout. "Enjoy your date with Millie. I got you that." I point out before walking in through the door that she probably walked through. As soon as I enter, the door slams shut behind me and Daisy appears with her back to me.

"Uh, I... I'm really..." I begin to apologize when I see her shoulders start to shake. "Are you laughing?" I ask incredulously. And just like that, her laughter become audible. Almost right then, I join her when I realize what a comic scene we just went through.

"Thanks to you now, I'm not scary anymore." Daisy comments when we finally stop. "Apparently, I'm the cool invisible girlfriend now." She speaks and though her voice is playful, her face reflects her true desires. All laughter fades away as I see how much she wants to be my girlfriend.

"In another lifetime, perhaps. I was hoping you didn't catch that." I apologize. She is invisible but still I stretch my hand forward to caress her cheek as if her physical body was still there. And we both gasp in shock when I feel contact.

"You... you can touch me even now?" She speaks out and becomes visible again. The tear filled eyes show much more grief than I ever believed possible. "No one ever could." She may have wanted to speak more but I don't let her. Taking her hand, I pull her into me.

And then I kiss her.

If I had to die, I would really be happy to go with her. This kiss, this feeling of the two of us together, is something a lot more powerful and even if I end up forgetting the entire existence I have had so far, I know I won't forget her. I won't ever forget this moment. I run out of breath but I don't break the kiss. I don't even break it when my knees collapse from the pain in my lungs. She does, though.

The sharp gulp of air is far more painful though. And before it is all in, we are together again. We take our time in exploring each other and when we finally part, I am too dazed to let anything else in. But what comes out from her is something I can't forget either.

"My first kiss." She notes in a dazed voice and the male vanity in me inflates my ego at having dazed her.

"Mine too." I confess as well. "And my second as well. And a third." And just like that, we are back at it again, needing it more than my next breath. Only this time, I let go of all the warning signs and end up collapsing midway during the kiss due to oxygen shortage. Not a good way to end the kiss.

The kiss brings me back to the reality though and the pain of the realization stops me from even trying to get back up. Because in that moment, I realize I just tasted my forbidden fruit. I will lose her soon and will never feel like this again. And these thoughts are more sobering than anything else could ever be.

She is quiet too and I momentarily fear she is regretting the kisses. But the pitying smile that appears then vanishes that thought. I will take even pity as long as it is not regret. "I can't bear the thought of staying apart for more than another second now. When I'm gone, how will you survive?"

It is then I realize where I am lying down on. "The perfect end to a pretend-date, huh? We are back on the picnic blanket." Her face shows shock and I can sense the anger beginning to emerge when she opens her mouth to break my misconceptions.

"Only, nothing about tonight was a meaningful pretend." She softly speaks and then adds. "I don't feel like doing the tour right now. Do you mind if we wait a while?" I only nod, unwilling to hasten either.

A hammer then appears out of nowhere and lands between us. "For later." Daisy clarifies and then takes off the necklace. The ring shines brightly in the early dawn and I feel as if it is preparing to say goodbye as well.

We sit now, with the hammer and ring between us, and wonder what to do now. Do we go on with the tour, stealing few final moments of each other's company? Or do we just break the ring get this painful waiting period over with?

We look at each other and then speak up our decision together. "It's time for the tour now."

Together, we rise and she leads me over the stairs. "You've already been to the dark attic. I never really remember it being lighted for as long as a day. So that place has always been a mystery to me. And also, it was kind of off-limits to me as a child and I never really bothered to go there." She walks to the attic stairs as she speaks. "For you, I went there for the first time." She pauses and speaks in a bland tone that still conveys the disappointment she must have felt. "There was nothing really there of importance. What was of importance is here, though." She points at the bottom of the regular stairs to the attic, rather than the frozen ones I had travelled.

"Um, the stairs?" I ask, completely confused by what she's implying. I step a little closer to examine them better and note that there is a pattern on the third and fifth step. "Those steps... they look like a doorway."

I turn to Daisy, who then smiles. "Yes, the stairs are made from the doors of a grand basement that once existed under this house." With a visible shiver, she adds, "And now it is the home of those pesky rodents. The door was scrapped after decay over years and father chose to use them to make a permanent stairway instead of the previous route of using a ladder. The fourth step was painted over later to hide its true significance. Can you see it now?"

Curious, I turn back to the stairs and examine the fourth step again. I don't notice anything stand out and so impatiently search through the entire step for anything. It is just as I am about to turn away that I see what she wanted me to.

At the very corner of the step, there's a sketch that seems to have been engraved into the wood. Considering the subject stands behind me, it isn't hard to guess why these steps were preserved. "But why as staircase where anyone can step over them?" I ask her as I run my fingers through her face on the wood.

"Why not? No one who ever came after my death ever went to the attic. And since father couldn't really move a lot on the stairs since quite an early age due to some odd health issue, it was at the exact location for him to be with me." She pauses and then adds. "But there's also another reason. Observe that step again. Do it a little slowly this time and check everything."

It is hard to not just ask for answers but I indulge her game, at least until I do have patience for them. I check for any other portrait or signs on the step and even look at its sides for any clues. I find nothing until I lean on the third step to look closely at the joint with the fifth step and feel it depress a little under me. "There's really a door underneath it?!" I almost yell in my surprise. Less than a minute later, I find the gap just beneath the fourth step and pull it.

I feel Daisy stiffen a little as if to brace herself and immediately pause, wondering if I am about to do something she doesn't want me to. "Go on," she urges me and I uncover the secrets hidden within. I look at the dusty and almost ruined items in front of me and don't recognize what they are. But I do when she begins explaining. "There are the memories of my life. My toys, my photos, my clothes... or what remains of them. Father saved them initially but hid them from me when I learned control over my form. He probably wanted me to not feel the pain of missing out on creating more memories." There's a pause before she continues. "I don't feel any more pain on seeing them, just have some fond memories attached with them."

I turn around to her and reply in the best way I can think of. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

Her reply is a small smile before she performs the action of exhaling. Then in a little less subdued tone, she speaks. "Let's continue the tour. You've been to the bedroom of my father as well as my room so there's no point in lingering there." This part of the tour goes relatively faster since there really isn't much to see there.

"The stables were tore down when the land was sold for money." She continues the tour and leads me to a severely damaged section where isn't really much for me to see. "This was the servants' quarters and this area was one I was not supposed to go to but still frequented in my childhood."

It doesn't take even a moment to realize the why. "Because Samuel lived here."

"Yes. And that is why this room, this section, is in the tour." She confirms my theory just as we stop in front of a room. "There isn't really anything left of him or Mr Cullingham since it was all thrown away before I could do anything. All I've had of him is the ring. And this is why I hesitate to do what you ask."

Just like that, I realize the meaning of this tour. "This is the end of the short tour, isn't it? You wanted me to see how you had access to your past but not to his. You were showing me that you've only got it as a reminder of all you had." I pause for the words to sink in. All that comes to forefront is confusion. "But why didn't you just tell me that? What do you think this tour will change?"

"Nothing." She speaks in a voice that sounds miles away. "The truth doesn't change just because I desire so. But I did want you to understand what you are asking of me. You know it is a memento of Samuel for me. But do you really understand it? This is why I ask you here, in front of the room of where my life began in the true sense, are you sure that your method will work? Because... I can't even entertain the idea of a different reality." Her right hand absently rises to seek the necklace and she panics for a moment before remembering that she willingly took it off.

"Do I know whether what I am saying is true or not? I don't really know." I answer and feel her shoulders stiffen. "But I know that, from what you told me, it seems to be what is still keeping you from being free. And I want you to be free. There's no guide or book to direct me on how to do this but I am willing to try everything to help you."

"That is not a satisfactory answer, Nick Demming Peters." Daisy replies.

"It's all I've got, Daisy McCain. So the question is, are you willing to try for your forever? Because though I don't want to, I will free you and give you the power to leave."

"A sacrifice doesn't demand another sacrifice." She answers before letting out a sigh. "But if I am being honest to myself, I see no other way to be either. I want to be free." Then she looks at me directly in the eye rather the floor and finishes her words. "Even if it comes at such a price."

I nod, understanding that there are a lot of interpretations and she means them all. "Then let's get back to the picnic table, shall we? There's no point in delaying." Only I choose to contradict myself when I lean in and kiss her once again. There isn't even a small amount of regret in me though.

We are silent when we part, except for my slight panting, and we walk down to the basket and take back the position we had of some time ago when I mentally wondered about the next course of action. "The dawn is about to break, Nick. I would rather not see another morning in this place that has changed beyond recognition but is still hauntingly familiar. No pun intended."

I respond only with a nod and raise the hammer over my head. Looking in her eyes, I do what I am most hesitant to. I bring the hammer down.

Thud!

There's a moment of silence before we both look down. Despite the severity of the situation, giggles erupt from our mouths when I see that in my attempt to make the act romantic, I missed my target and hit the floor rather than the ring. "Okay, one more time. And thanks for holding the floor together."

All she does is control her expression and stop the giggling. This time I choose to sacrifice my attempt at being romantic and aim to strike the hammer down after making sure that my hand will make sure that this time the contact occurs.

"You look any more serious and you might as well burn the ring with your laser vision." Daisy comments and the humor of it makes me slightly miss the ring, sending it flying. The hammer probably just dented it. We both are laughing as we see the ring fly towards me.

"What are you doing?" I finally gasp out when I can and she gives me an apologetic grin.

"Just creating memories, Nick Demming Peters. Just creating memories for us to remember this moment not in sadness, but in pleasure. But please continue, this time there will be no interruptions from me."

Grumbling slightly while trying to keep the grin stay off my face, I aim for a third time. There are no interruptions and no error in aiming as I bring the hammer down.

And as the clang of impact sounds on the dented ring, I tell myself that I imagined the faltering of my strength just when I was about to make impact.
Chapter 19

Daisy's POV

The clang of the impact wasn't really loud but I felt deafened by the noise. I had clutched my hands tighter, keeping them by my side and not protect the ring from being destroyed. But it was a hard battle and every tear that had escaped since I agreed to this only weakened my resolve. To really accept that the ring, the last thing that bound me to this realm, was gone was so painful that it took me several moments to accept this. Please forgive me Samuel. I begged mentally, please let this not be worthless.

"Daisy?" Nick whispered and I finally opened my eyes and wiped the tears away. And then looked down at the symbol of so many things of my life, or perhaps it was a symbol of my life itself. And just like my life, it was now over too. The ring was now broken.

I looked at him and I almost lost control of my tears again at the apologetic look at his face. Are you apologizing for breaking my ring that I had loved for all my existence? My mind screamed at him the words I couldn't dare to speak. Or are you sorry for destroying my ring when it wasn't what held me here? I froze as that accusation completed itself.

I took a deep breath and felt for any change in me. My stomach dropped as anger rose within me. "You were wrong." I spoke. It was low, only slightly louder than a whisper, but very clear in the silence we were sitting in. Nick bowed his head and my mind had its answer to the unspoken question.

"YOU WERE WRONG!"

This time it wasn't a statement said at a low voice of shock. No, this time my words had so much in it that I could have found life in it. My own life, perhaps. The words were no longer forming a fact supposed to inform. They were now a clear accusation, filled with every hatred and anger and despair. I leaned forward on my knees and bent over the broken remains of the only good thing of my afterlife and grabbed his tee's collar with my left hand while using my right for balance. And then I let go of the balance and slapped him continuously while hanging on his shirt to not fall down.

SLAP! The first slap made me realize two things. One was that hitting him helped my anger. There was significantly more control over myself now. The other was that his cheeks were wet and it took me a moment to realize he was crying as well. But that doesn't mean I stopped after the first one. I had already delivered two more by the time I had this realization. And then I stopped, not because I cared about how he felt, but because now all I felt was exhaustion.

"I'm sorry Daisy." Nick finally spoke up and though it started even, I knew he was trying to control his sobs when his voice broke on my name. "I thought I was right. I knew I was right. But I wasn't. And my foolishness cost you such a heavy price. I'm sorry." He hiccupped and then went quiet. But that wasn't all he needed to apologize for. And so I continued.

"I'm sorry too, Nick. Not for hitting you, but for trusting you. I'm sorry I trusted you. I'm sorry I went along with your half-baked idea, that I was so excited about moving on that I let you destroy the one thing that made me bear these past decades, the one thing which I counted on always being present even as I would have faded out. I'm sorry too for so many things." My sobs got too loud to speak through and there was a momentary relief about the fact since I had just been about to apologize for loving him. And deep in my heart, if I bothered to look, I knew I would find that this is one thing I would never regret. But it seems that he had already guessed what I was to say, because he looked broken, as if I had delivered that cruel blow too.

"Not for loving you though. I'm never going to be sorry for that." He softly spoke. And then he froze. I wiped away my tears and began deep breathing to try controlling them. Let him get lost in his own mind. My mind commented, I deserve this time to grieve all that I just lost.

"I... oh my god." Nick spoke and the wonder and happiness in the words froze me in surprise. I lost a special piece of my life and he's happy? I was just about to scold him when he continued. "I figured it all out!" His eyes were glazed as he stared at nothing while he said those words. But then he turned to me and the expression on his face made me reconsider my anger. After all, there had never been a single moment where I felt in him something of such cruelty that he would be happy after causing so much pain. And so, I paid attention to him and not hit him again, like I wanted to. "I know why you didn't move on! Oh, it was so obvious. I'm such a fool for not realizing it."

Let this be known of this boy if nothing else is known about him to anyone else ever: his enthusiasm is infectious. And his words have the power to make even the boring things seem so interesting. "Spit it out already." I whine and am momentarily taken aback at how excited my own voice sounds. There are still signs of the huge dip my emotions just took but it feels like hours ago instead of just seconds.

With those words, however, a strange type of shyness came over him. I watched in confusion as his cheeks pinked while he hesitated in answering. "I... I realized that, uh..." He kept stammering while trying to get the words out. Finally, just as I was about to attack him with the hammer for hesitating, he let out an exasperated sigh and answered, "Just think about what you just said. You'll figure it out as well."

"Oh just speak it. Why keep me waiting?" I spoke with narrowed eyes. That idea of me and a hammer and him was appearing more tempting with every passing moment. "You know I will keep asking you till you speak." And then begins a "Tell Me, Tell Me" chant that would give anyone of my time a heart attack because of my behaviour. That doesn't mean the trick is unsuccessful though.

"Oh fine! You said you love me. So do I. And that's what holding you back. I'm the anchor now." He blurts out so fast that I have pause for three seconds to think over it and then I feel my eyes get big as I understand his implications.

"What? That's as much of garbage as this place. And I know this is my home but it really is a garbage." I comment. But the seeds have already been sowed and my mind is running rampant with this idea. If this is true, then what do I do? Break him with a hammer?

"It is a logical one, or well as logical as this whole situation can be, and you know it. And stop eyeing that hammer like that. You are not hitting me with it. There must be a more pacified way of doing this." He speaks and I listen half-heartedly. Probably noting this, he makes a move when I do and is only seconds earlier in being able to grab the hammer before I can.

"It's not exactly me that is holding you back, Daisy, so stop aiming for the hammer. " Nick is annoyed and holds the hammer behind his back. "What holds you back is the love we have for the other and, though you may not want to accept it, we are quite reluctant to let each other go." He finishes before adding, "And stop trying to use your powers to manipulate the hammer into hitting me."

I give him a cheeky grin and he lets out a growl of frustration. Finally giving in, I ask him, "So what should we do? Love isn't exactly a switch we can turn off."

"Let me think," is his brilliant reply. I try to be as discreet as possible as I try again. "Daisy!" He shouts now and I hold back a giggle as I feel his hand grip the hammer tightly. "Alright, I have come up with the most clichéd way of doing this. Just letting the other go. I'll go first." Suddenly, silence grips the room and I gulp in preparation. What is he going to do?

He pulls his most serious face. And then speaks. "I let you go."

And then he relaxes. I wait. And then we are both staring at each other. That's when the penny drops. "That's it?" I shriek as I expect him to start laughing now. He doesn't though. His expression shows how much offended he is. I begin to laugh out loud at how idiotic it was and use this moment of lowered guard to deliver him a blow on his back. His 'ow' sets off another round of laughter. He glares at me and I think that it would be handy to disappear now.

And then I do disappear.

Instantly I stop laughing and look at my now invisible hands, or at least where they are supposed to be. And then I think about being visible again.

And I become so.

"It worked!" I shriek. Nick flinches at my scream since he was almost leaning forward into me while waiting for my reaction. I ignore him and use my regained ability to become visible and invisible again. And then a huge roar comes from the collapse eastern parlor. Both of us turn and see it being restored to how it was. But that's not the only change taking place. The ruins of my home begin to restore themselves back to their former glory and though there are some articles that haven't been yet replaced, the house looks like a home again. A part of me even expects father or George to walk in through one of the doors. "It worked, Nick, it worked. I can feel my powers return. I'm so happy!"

That's when I turn to look at him and realize what's really happening. My powers may be coming back because I am much less weakly bound to this world now. Nick has realized this already and though he tries to smile, his grief at losing me is too difficult to hide. I feel my own joy fade away as I realize what this means. Yes, it's time to say goodbye.

"Don't be sad, Daisy. Be happy. You'll get to see your family really soon. And you know what to speak." Nick softly speaks. "It's time to finally move on, Daisy. You've earned your rest." Has it been only a night since we met? Because it most certainly feels like it's been years since this boy trespassed into this place to steal Samuel's ring. But the memories are still fresh, like they have happened less than a moment ago. "Just..." his voice breaks at the word. "Just remember me, okay?"

I gently touch his face, finally being able to touch him with no fear of losing control of my appearance. He probably doesn't even realize as his face slightly tilts to gently cover the remaining few millimetres of distance. "I always will." I promise him. We stay frozen in that embrace. Or at least I am, for he pulls away first. And that loss of contact brings on a feeling of hurt I am unfamiliar with. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself.

I close my eyes. I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.

I open my eyes. And see Nick quickly try to hide the heartbroken look and prepare an encouraging smile. All it does is crumble my resolve further. "Wait!" Nick calls out and a strange hope blooms within me. What do I hope for? What would I gain from staying? We aren't meant to be. He stands up and then extends his hand to me. "I almost forgot. The last part of the date night. Our dance."

I look up at him oddly. What's he doing? I want to remind him about how it ended. But I don't. Because this is my respite from saying goodbye. My chance for a few more minutes of memories. I put my hand in his and pull myself up. Before I can say anything, Nick speaks, "And don't worry about the music. I have a song I composed for us. It's been coming to me in pieces since I came back but now I have the tune too. I do apologize in advance if I sound off-key."

I smile and reply, "Then let me take care of our attire." The strength of the returned power makes the illusion of the change of our attire feel as easy as breathing. "For us, only the finest of those of the memories." Before he can ask, I answer the unspoken question. "The one I and Samuel always talked about whenever we played house and it was time for our first dance after the wedding."

The golden gown and the tux we are in now isn't really the fashion statement of our time but it was the most perfect we could ever dream of as kids. I had little doubt that he wouldn't have arranged it all if we indeed had a chance. That's all the thoughts of Samuel that grace me as we begin the dance in each other's arms while Nick begins to hum and start.

"Punished for caring,

Everything's uncertain.

Is this pain really worth bearing

When our loss is no one's gain."

I am equally amused and touched. The words are romantic and truly meant for both of us. The sad part is that Nick is a terrible singer. His voice is way off-key. So without interrupting, I improve his voice for the song. And when that last word comes out just as he planned, the shock forces his eyes open and I giggle before his expression softens into one I am way too familiar with. Ever since those kisses, it has been hard trying to keep my hands off him but even now, I vie for control. Having him pass out in the middle of dance won't be really romantic.

"Feel the world fade out,

Feel the heart bleed out.

We're captive for no crime.

Everything's changing inside out.

But won't you listen to words mine?

Rejoice for what we did find?

I'll relight the flame of you so you shine.

Though my heart wishes otherwise, I will set you free from your bind."

We sway to the tune as he hums it and I am touched by the emotions behind the word. We glide on the floor and I help us by lifting us slightly above the floor so our feet don't get stuck on the blanket. And just as I realize the tune's changing, he continues the song.

"Shed tears no more,

The time has come for you.

Feed fears no more

No reason to stay blue.

Feel your worries fade out

See the clouds clear, let the blue skies emerge.

And as the rays start pouring out,

Bathe in the glory of the new day's start."

His closed eyes now open and the love he has for me is plain as day in them. And in the reflection in his eyes, I know the same is mirrored in me.

"Feel the sweet of my voice

Let the rest all fade out

Be drenched with the love we've had

And though my heart wishes otherwise, I'll set you free from your bind."

"Be prepared. You sing the last lines. So start thinking." He whispers to me and I stiffen momentarily at this sudden statement. I don't panic for long though and by the time I convince myself it will be alright, he has begun the next words.

"Be thankful to your stars,

Feel the love of your heart

No burdens exist, no reason for guilt in your heart.

Face the truth of the bleeding hurt."

All thoughts fly away at the realization that he understands me and is still here. I can't speak because how does one respond to that?

"Say bye to this long night.

You've earned your rest, plan now your next reason to smile.

Rediscover yourself on the new day.

Let go of the nightmares of the past.

Say your last goodbyes,

Thank those who always stood by your side.

Relive the precious memories, of joy and love and pride.

And though my heart wishes otherwise, I'll set you free from your bind."

And then he begins to hum a tune that is still different but feels like a mix of all the tunes he has let out so far. It's peaceful and haunting and joyous and heart-breaking at the same time. He leans in close, as if about to kiss and then whispers. "Your turn now." Without missing a beat, I start as we glide in the air uninterrupted. I provide the words while he sings out his tune. And through some surprise, the two complement each other.

"You've claimed what never was mine.

Just like others of past, special inside.

Silence of us cannot lie.

This love of ours will not die."

His smile is so full of conflicting emotions that it is hard to settle on just one. I give him the same, knowing that the time has come for the end and wonder how I will get those difficult words out.

"Feel the prisons falling apart.

Feel the binds fade out

Feel the unjust of twilight

Become the dawn's blessing in disguise."

He lets out a small chuckle at that as we both look back at the truth of these words.

"Listen, not hear, what says my heart.

Wounds heal, never play games of the heart.

Love will set you free to rise.

Still though my heart desires otherwise, I set you free from this bind."

The emotions run between us so high that I don't even feel the loss of control over my powers when his lips crash against mine. I feel a tear escape down his cheeks and I cup his hands, pulling him in as if to consume him entirely. Nothing exists.

The ever present mind doesn't care for the isolation though and makes a note that makes me break off the kiss instantly. And as I see his chest heaving for air, I see in his eyes the sadness of the realization that I figured it out. "What did you do?" I whisper in horror, worried that by giving it strength I might not be able to take them back.

"What had to be done."

I froze in shock as I realize what I had just said. What a sneaky move! I didn't see that one coming at all. His eyes are shimmering with tears but the pride there is unmistakable. "Be happy. I love you." He whispers and it is only then I realize that I have begun to disappear. Not fade away but move on.

But I don't let him go either. I can't. The very idea of not being able to see him is painful. And though I have spoken the words to let him go, I can't. I feel the transfer pause and then reverse at my hesitation. "What are you doing Daisy? It's time to have your well-deserved rest. Don't let me get in your way of eternal existence." Tears of sorrow fall down my cheeks as I refuse to let go of him.

"Goodbye is the last thing I want to say but that's where we stand now. It is time to part ways." He says and from the tense muscles, I have a feeling of how hard this is for him too. But I also hear the unspoken promise of loving me forever. And that promise is all it takes for me to achieve clarity.

Yes, this is where we part. Yes, this is very our love story would end. But that's no reason for him to forever carry a torch for me. And so though my own heart screams at betraying it, I extract one last thing from him: "Promise me. Promise me that you'll love again. Promise me that you'll live your life fully. Promise me that and I will let you go. So will you promise me or will you hold me back?" A low blow but a necessary one.

There is a long silence and I feel the connection with the afterlife fading. Somehow, I have a feeling that if I lose this chance, I will have no more. But I can't let him suffer for my sake.

"Please." I plead and he finally releases something. A sob. And the escape of one is enough for the others to come rushing out.

"I can't Daisy. I could speak the words but I won't mean them. To me, it will always be you." He lets out and before I realize it, we are kissing once again. It is our last moment and both of us are unwilling to let the other go for even breathing. But though I don't need it, Nick does and we finally pull away.

The connection is now almost closed and it seems Nick senses that too. And though his entire posture screams his unwillingness to speak those words, he does. "I promise." The fading connection is renewed instantly and this time I don't fight it. I have got no reason to stay in this realm anymore.

"Goodbye." I speak and prepare myself to move on. I feel my body slowly fading away and I almost smile when it happens.

The roof creaks.

It's enough for both of us to remember what had slipped our minds. It's only my magic that held the place standing. The pain at this realization is evident in both of our eyes but it doesn't mean I will let him die. "Go. Quickly. Hurry now." Now that the process has begun, I cannot stop it. Still, I use all that remains in my power to hold the building in place. The door swings open and I stare at the red sky of dawn. "Live your life. Fulfil your promise." My stomach has now gone and I know we have less than a minute now.

"I love you. I'll miss you." He speaks, still not running for the exit even though the time is being wasted.

"I love you too. Now go." I try to push him but then realize that my shoulders are gone now. The two parlors are the first to collapse. And as my neck disappears, I hear the attic collapse. "It won't be long now. Go." I smile just before my mouth fades away. That's when he finally begins to run.

Even before his first step, we both know he won't make it. And so I try. I give everything I have ever had to hold the front of the mansion from collapsing for just a few more seconds. I pray to all that I've loved, pray to the god I always believed in and pray to anyone who might be listening to let him pass through unscathed. My forehead is disappearing now and it seems that the eyes are left for the last. It all happens in a second.

The front collapses with no more support just as Nick reaches the door. He would be hit by the debris, I frantically note, but then he lunges forward and the rubble misses his feet by less than an inch. He rolls and stands up to look back at the house, at me. That's when our eyes connect through a hole in the debris for the last time. Then my eyes are gone too.

And all that's left is darkness.
Chapter 20

Shane's POV

"Twenty years." I start to remind him, or more precisely his back, as he leans down to put down flowers on her grave. "Twenty years have passed since you met her and set her free. And every year, you bring her flowers on this day. Nick, I don't know what else to believe other than the fact that you are still hung up on her. Accept it bud, she's gone."

"I know she's gone." His voice is normal and I immediately think back to how he would almost break down crying for hours during the starting years of visit. Well, that's progress. "I have known she was gone for the last twenty years, as you just pointed out. It's just that you never forget someone like her. And you must always pay respects to the deceased."

He stands up from sitting at her grave and I see that the years have changed the teenage Nick into the bestselling writer Nick Demming Peters. That lanky frame is now gone, his body a lot more leaner and his hair was much smaller than the hippie look he had sported till a few days before going into that mansion. I recall what he wrote in his first novel, which was actually autobiographical in nature, about that visit. "Everyone must mature, finally crossing that invisible boundary from being the child to becoming an adult. The night at the mansion was that moment."

"But I did move on, didn't I?" Nick speaks again after some time and as he turns, I see that his shades reflect the sunlight and hide the eyes. They don't hide the tears that have escaped, though. We are dressed in suits, returning from the recent book signing in a nearby town of Witchbury Falls. He continues then, though I am not sure who is he speaking to at the moment. Is it me, himself or Daisy? "Well, becoming a writer was something she wanted me to be upon seeing my talent. And to honor my promise, I always kept myself open to a search for a companion. But now that I have her and a few children of my own, won't you agree that I've moved on?"

My eyes automatically drift to Daisy's grave and, though I never knew her really except for that frightening introduction, I feel a kinship with her as I understand what Nick is saying and what he isn't. I know he would just argue to comfort himself in his lie so I only voice my true opinion inside my head. Yeah, we both the truth of that, even if you choose to ignore it. Or else, we won't be here at all.

I let out a non-committal noise as my verbal response and he is satisfied enough with that as his answer. "Liar. You lie to yourself. And you're too coward to admit it even to yourself." I whisper under my breath. And I'm a coward for not making you face the truth. I curse myself. But how can I if this is how it has to be for you to be happy?

My mind instantly flashes back to the days that came after that night. My date with Millie had gone well while he seemed to be falling deeper and deeper into himself. The only way to not see that Nick was depressed was if you were robbed of all your senses. And even then, it would have been possible to sense it.

"The loss would have been bearable, Shawn." He told me when I had finally confronted him in his room. Neither of us needed to mention what was being talked about. She was gone but was still everywhere. "But the knowledge that I won't see her again..." He gulped when his voice cracked at the word 'again'. "... I can't bear that knowledge."

"Then you will break your promise to her?" I had countered on the knowledge of the promise he had made before she left and Nick's head snapped up so quickly that I momentarily feared whiplash.

"No! Of course not. How could you even – I would never break a promise to her!" He shouted at me and though the progress was barely there, I wanted to smile at seeing something emerge from the vacant shell he had almost become. "I won't fail her." He repeated, though I am still not sure if it was to himself or to me.

That year was a difficult one for him. Everything was the same to me, but it was all touched by her loss to him. I still remember sleeping with my shoes near the bed in case I had to hurry. More than once, Nick ventured to the ruins of the McCain mansion at night and roamed there while mumbling about the things he had underwent there with her. No one else ever found out because I made sure he was never caught. His sister helped me make sure I always knew when he was gone before their parents could find out.

"You coming?" Nick calls out and I realize that I had been staring at the old graves in front of me for a long time now and Nick stands by me, waiting for my response. Controlling the urge to jump, I simply nod and we walk back to his car in silence. The joy of being a success is gone from his face and the mood in the car is subdued. It reminds me of how Nick still occasionally gets when he is lost deep in thoughts of her.

To say that he sought her in the face of every woman he met would be a huge understatement. Even now, the woman who had claim to the title of being his wife was not the owner of his heart. I sympathized with her, knowing she was literally up against a ghost who, just by being dead, will forever stay perfect in his eyes. There was no way she could win.

Only I and he knew the story of that night, though. There was no hope to be believed so we never tried but more important was that we never let it be hinted that we had dared to try to steal something of the ghost. We never could imagine a good enough ending for that scenario. And so, it all stayed a secret between the two of us, even after the first book came out.

"We're here." He announces and I am immediately back from the memories. The sun illuminates a red glow in the sky and I can still remember how the sky had been when Nick was inside. We walk out and head for the house.

No, calling it house seems unfair. It was a mansion, to be precise.

Daisy's mansion that was built from the ground up as soon as Nick could start investing money for its reconstruction.

And Nick Demming Peters walked into the house, screaming out an "I'm home!" Only I see the way his shoulders sag a little when the reply comes from within. The voice he seeks will never answer him.

And that is how I leave him while trying to ignore the guilt of letting them both down. Both of us in a prison we built.

*****

1 week later

"Hey, you wanted to talk- ow!" Nick yells when I punch him on the nose as soon as he is in range. I don't even bother to dodge the return hit and scream in pain as well. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to knock some sense into you." I reply, finally setting off the conversation I delayed far too long. Once relieved he didn't break my nose, I continue. "I thought I could let you be. But I can't. And though you will probably hate me for this, I can't ignore it anymore."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He stands with his arms crossed.

"I have seen how you are right now, Nick. If anything I ever did meant anything to you, please answer me honestly, have you accepted that Daisy's gone?" The way his entire body freezes at my question is clearly noticeable when his entire body stops even those unconscious activities it is normally involved in.

"What are you trying to say?" The words carry a lethal undercurrent of anger and I know I am risking everything on the line here.

"It has been 20 years since that night, Nick. You said you let her go but did you? Even now, you carry her around with you. That picture of her we found in her obituary is still in your wallet, always close to you. You live in the house that eerily resembles her mansion in the exact place where it once stood. You even have a wife who has quite a resemblance to her. Tell me, how have you moved on from her?"

"You are crossing a line here, Shane. Watch it. Yes, I still have mementos but that doesn't mean anything. I-"

"That means everything, Nick." I shout as I interrupt him. "Do you even love Cass? I have seen what you are blind to. The indifference you have to her hurts her more than you know. Annie, YOUR sister and my wife, is the person she comes to for crying her heart out. Do you have any idea how much you've hurt her? How badly you've destroyed her life?"

The stunned look on his face is masking the anger that still simmers. "I- I never ... I didn't mean to." He splutters out in defence but the words still carry anger in them. I understand his point though. If someone, even him, tried to get between me and Annie, I would resent the intrusion. But am I getting between him and Cass or him and Daisy?

"The broken hearted rarely do, bud. I am trying to man up for once and tell you what I should have told you a long time ago. She hurts, bro, and you've never even tried to soothe her. I tell you now because by the time you return home to that place, she'll be gone."

"What!?" He exclaims but hold grab his shoulder before he can move away.

"Listen to me. She should have better. She deserves better. I want you to think hard and make a choice. You have roughly five minutes before she leaves. What would you offer her? The freedom to leave and heal or the promise to change for her, even though she might not be truly who you seek now?" And with those words, I leave him alone in the room, knowing that this moment would decide everything for him now.

*****

More than an hour passes in waiting before he finally comes out. Though his face is wet with tears and his eyes are bloodshot, I feel a lightness in him that I didn't before.

I move to him to comfort him. He has different plans though. I realize this too late when he hits me again and this time I feel my nose is broken. "What you did was not cool at all, man. I understand you but still, not cool."

Then he stretches his hand and I use it to pull myself back up. "Thanks though. We talked it out and she has agreed for a second chance but asked for a temporary separation all the same. I guess it is time for her to know the truth."

"You broke my nose!" I exclaim before consoling him. "It'll all work out for the best. You'll see."

We spend the rest of the time discussing what he plans to do now and I see that the shadow of grief is still there but lessened. Perhaps the two can heal each other now.

I repeat this thought when he leaves to go back home and to rebuild his life. Then I call Annie while moving to the car for a visit to the hospital.

Epilogue

Daisy woke up with a familiar, but forgotten, feeling of incoherence which consumed the person who just awakened from a deep sleep. For that one moment of complete disorientation, she looked at the clean blue sky above her in awe. She had never seen such a beautiful sight in all her existence. The word 'existence' turned out to be the one to snap her out of this pleasant feeling as memories unlocked and overloaded her. Her life. Her death. Her afterlife. Her loneliness. Her fears. Nick.

The memories of her finally leaving the mortal realm made her realize that she was no longer an ethereal entity. She now had a body once again. She could feel her heartbeat once more. It was a foreign feeling now but was pleasant nevertheless. She felt lighter than she ever had, even when she was just a fading spirit. Through some instinctual knowledge that disappeared when the spirit went to the mortal realm, she knew there was something more pure, more special and more divine flowing through her veins instead of the common blood. It was followed by more realizations about her new body and this new place that was the true resting place of those who had left the mortal realm.

"Daisy?" All her thoughts immediately dissolved into nothing as soon as she heard the voice calling her out. She felt her heart skip a beat and she turned to the source of the voice. Her smile, which simply lightened up her face in a way that was almost magical, greeted the two most important men of her short life. A happy tear fell down her cheek as she finally rose from the soft grass bed she had woken up on in this place and ran to embrace them. Keith McCain was a strong man in life and Daisy was pleased to see that her father still took her running hugs without budging even an inch. Both of them squeezed the other with all the strength they had, afraid of still losing the other if they loosened the grip. A pair of arms settled around her in a way she was very familiar with, and had often yearned for, and she finally lifted her head off her father to look at the first man to steal her heart. George Colseon was still able to make her stop breathing and she knew that would be true even if he weren't smiling at her with happiness like now. So, taking one arm away from her father, she wrapped him in her hug as well. Her father followed her actions and Daisy couldn't help but feel like she would never stop crying now.

Their hugs made her feel safe once more, a feeling she had feared she would never get to experience again. "I missed you so much." She spoke softly and smiled when she felt George stroke her hair while her father kissed her forehead. She had a lot more words to speak but for now, these were enough. They looked just how they had been in their prime but there were no shadows or ghosts present in their eyes to weigh them down.

"We missed you too Daisy." George spoke into her hair and Daisy couldn't help but remember how the soft confidence of his had been the very reason she had started to fall for him. "We watched over you once we had arrived here. It hurt a lot to see you like this." His voice brought back all her memories of her ghostly stay, her loneliness and her fears of fading out without ever having this particular moment. Tears filled her eyes but she didn't shed them, not because she was afraid of being seen as weak by these people but because she had to accept that she was now through that and let all those fears release her. When she didn't respond verbally to his statement, he lifted her chin with his finger so his eyes made.

For a split-second, she feared being consumed by guilt for running into her first love's arms after he saw her fall in love with someone else. In his eyes though, there were no accusations. Only concern. "Time moves here differently Daisy. It has been about ten days since we awakened here. And I know it has been about fifty years since we passed away in that fire." George probably hadn't meant to hurt her but she still flinched as she remembered causing that fire accidentally.

"It was supposed to be just a joke. It got out of hand. I didn't think about the windy night. I'm sorry." Daisy apologized with her eyes looking at something far away behind him while he still held her face. Now the tears fell as she remembered the destruction she had unwittingly caused. How that accident had officially 'confirmed' the presence of a malevolent spirit and declared the place uninhabitable. How in one second, her one reason for staying had been snatched away. A few moments later, she snuck a peek at George's face. The sad smile still present there shocked her eyes into staying.

"I suspected even before I passed away. Then when we started to look over you, your lost expression, your guilty feeling of hiding instead of coming forward in vision of the people who visited then and your frequent lingering in the guest bedroom, where I suppose the fire started, was more than enough to confirm my suspicions. I may have been hurt or angry before but I have forgiven you a long time ago."

It was then Daisy really understood what George had said. It had been ten days since they arrived here and it was fifty years on the surface. If she waited that much time, even Nick would join her soon. A part of her got giddy at this thought but the rest flinched. She wanted to see with her own eyes how he fared in his life. Whether he had kept his promise or not. All others thoughts melted away from her mind. So she was guiltily surprised when her father called her back from wherever she had gone inside her head by calling her name. Still she partly wished that he hadn't moved on and replace her while another part wished he lived happily and just forgot her.

"It's okay to be impatient, Daisy. We know you are anxious to know more about him so we won't keep you longer." Daisy felt some anxiety creep in as she realized that these two people had seen her fall for someone else who, apart from many other factors that made their love impossible, was human while she was dead. Then her father spoke two words to alleviate her guilt. "We approve." Unfortunately, they were followed by a surprise she didn't expect.

"It's time for us to now go back to the land of the living. We have long overstayed our welcome. Your mother wanted to see you too but she couldn't stay long enough to see this moment." Her father revealed. Then, with a wink that seemed uncharacteristic of all that she had known, he added, "I hope that she wouldn't mind being romanced by a younger man." And just like that, before I could even say a word, he was gone.

Filled with the pain of loss once again, a part of Daisy's mind compared herself to a fish kicked out of the water and she couldn't react in shock. Her mind and body just couldn't figure out what to do. And that is how she lost her father once again, with the only difference being that she hadn't been responsible this time. "Won't you send me off with a smile?" George spoke from next to her and without any resistance, she turned to him. The loss struck through her once again as she saw him fading too.

Somehow, she gave him a heartfelt smile in goodbye. "Perhaps we will be friends in our next lifetime." She spoke and though she couldn't see him acknowledge it, she knew he heard her. All she could do was hope that he would approve of that too.

And then she was alone once again. But she wasn't sad anymore. She closed her eyes and through some power of afterlife, saw the life of Nick Demming Peters fly through the time.

She saw him become a writer, carving stories based on what they had. She saw, with some pain, him fall in love again and marry. As time flew by in the world of living, she saw him raise his family and live his life happily. And she felt a tear drop when she heard him call out to her just before he left the world. Then, before her tear could go halfway down her cheek, she felt him there.

And just like that, Daisy wasn't alone either.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Writing this book has been a journey I never stopped enjoying. From the story that I planned in 2012 to the last word I wrote in mid-2015, even I was in the dark of how the things would go. But what I do know is that this book won't be possible without the help of several people, and not all of whom I suspect have been mentioned here.

Firstly, I would like to thank my family because they raised me with exposure to a view of the world that allowed me to put these words on the e-paper. They're my reason for living.

I would also like to thank my friends (both online and offline). I lost contact with several of you during the writing years but I hope you still know that I haven't forgotten you.

Three sites deserve a recognition: Wattpad, Perusing The Shelves and Smashwords. Without any of these three, this book wouldn't have made it to this point. I am really thankful to the entire team working behind the scenes to keep them running and am hopeful you all stay so successful and helpful for the years to come.

And finally, once again, thank you for reading this book.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ayush Srivastava is an avid reader and a writer-in-training. All his stories are based on the unique stories the world around us tells if only we care to listen. With family and friends (from all over the globe), he has many people to turn for help and be inspired from.

With every story close to heart, he enjoys letting the characters 'tell' him all about their pasts, their motivations and their actions, allowing them to stay true to themselves and training him about the different characteristics of human behaviour.

As time passes, he learns more and hopes to entertain everyone a lot more.

Connect online with the author

Enjoyed the book? Got an opinion? Saw some errors? Just need some to rant with? Don't hesitate. Contact me via the following routes.

**Email:** aysrivastava94@gmail.com

**Blog** : narratingthedream.wordpress.com

**Wattpad** : Frozenfire

**Perusing The Shelves Forum** : Perusing The Shelves - Free Community for Readers

