Chapter 39

Phantom Bride

A loud thundering shattered the silence, announcing the manifestation of the shadowy entity from within a corner of the darkened bedroom. Opening his illuminated eyes, Beetlejuice took a deep breath, straightened up, and with a narrowed but dangerous gaze, began to examine the surroundings.

Before tonight, this was once a place where many a tender and passionate moments had been shared, but even their echoing joyful memories could not soften his current icy-heart. Muffled from beyond the safety of their warm walls was that delicious chaos and the comfort of screaming sirens. Yet inside, their cozy matrimonial bedroom had contrarily deeply disturbed his core being when it gave to him its mute answer.

Stepping forward with a penetrating resolve, he popped his knuckles as the rushing energy within him crackled electric and goaded him on to create more of that divine chaos that he so loved.

The wail of an ambulance screaming by on the street below the apartment, prompted a scarlet band from the flashing lights to slip through the slatted blinds and sprint along the wall. Just as quick as it appeared, the reminder of his handiwork was gone when the ambulance turned the corner, but not before it highlighted his form in a crimson glow like he had been showered in blood.

The unnerving hum that vibrated around him was a preternatural music that stoked his primal needs and swelled the high that he rode on from his most recent antics in the early morning hours. Instead of answering the call of the abyss that wanted him to push things even further, he used it as a momentum to focus his short attention span on what he currently wanted the most:

Confronting his wife.

No, for now, he had prepared himself to hear her apology. Although, seeing her groveling at his feet would be a much better option for what she had done. Oh yes, he needed for her to be begging for his forgiveness, so that things could get back to normal and back to where he once again had full control.

Scratching his chin, Beetlejuice found not a trace of his wife, and she certainly was not sobbing on the bed like he had expected to find her to be.

She's not in the bedroom... Hmm. She's always come back not long after any of our arguments, so maybe she's already obediently waiting fer me in the living room. Lydia always did look the most beautiful whenever she'd be begging me with those tears in her eyes and pleading out my name.

As he once again began to dwell on their earlier argument, irritation simmered and pricked at his cold skin. Turning his focus towards the slightly ajar doorway, he gave it a small nod and in reply the door slammed open violently, nearly ripping it off its hinges. He vaguely noted the need to control this energy when he confronted her.

Heavy heels echoed off the mute walls with an iron-authority until he passed through the threshold. No longer were his steps echoing, instead from under his pointed black boots came the crunching from the scattered debris upon the living room floor.

Coming to a stop, he scoffed and shook his head at the destroyed state of the room that was still unchanged from when he had left earlier. Deep inside his core, the darkness radiated like a hard, misleadingly black ember that would not cool from that previously heated moment; it was now ready and just itching to reignite.

Well, if she was here, she sure as hell didn't clean up… not that I fuckin' care about that. No, things are not as they should be. Everything needs to get back to how I want them… how they should be. They need to be as they were before all of this shit-show and it needs to happen pronto! She's never disobeyed me like that. What the hell has gotten into her? Cause I damn well did not put this much effort into that girl, just for her to act like this. This hasta be because of that insipid breather. Once I find that cock-sucker, I'm gonna feed him his own intestines like spaghetti.

Just the thought of it caused a shiver of delight to run through his spine and he couldn't wait to show that gruesome display to his wife. It'd be a masterpiece!

Although, firstly, he needed to find out where she was, since she didn't appear to be in the living room either. That answer was an unsatisfactory one, and as each room within the tiny apartment gave him the same results, he began to feel twitchy.

Maybe I missed her? Cause I sure as hell know that she can't stay away from me fer too long even after these stupid tiffs. Even she's admitted that. Mmm, she's gonna owe me and I will reap those rewards soon enough. But first…

Snorting his disgust, he needed to be doubly sure that she had not been home before he let his temper win over the moment. Instead, he began examining the small apartment; her closet to see if she had taken any of her clothes, the coat closet to see if her jacket was gone, the medicine chest for her personal sundries, and anywhere else that he could think of that would have given him any clue to see if she had been there while he had been away.

No, nothing had been touched and not even her shoes and purse were moved. Maybe she's hiding from me and is still close by? I don't sense her, but then again, I should check to see if her car is in the parking lot.

Stepping out into the open, breezy, covered hallway, he leaned over the half wall and searched the icy parking lot for her car down below.

Nope, number 21's parking stall is still empty.

What the hell? Where'd she go? OH! Maybe she ran away with her tail between her legs over to that slut Cherise's place again? Hehe. She lives close enough and thinks I'm great, so I'll have no problem getting her on my side to get Lydia back. After all, no one could resist my charms. He chuckled to himself as the destructive vibrations below the surface begged him for release.

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The heavy pounding on the door drummed painfully within her skull and effectively roused Cherise from her deep, liquor induced slumber.

Barely able to open her eyes, her head ached but she silently thanked her lucky stars that she didn't have a full-on hangover. Mustering a strength that she didn't know that she still had, she lifted her makeup smeared face from her pillow and hazily glared towards the closed bedroom door.

Maybe if she didn't answer it, they'd go away.

Ugh, if it's Jimmy who's been sniffing after me... That fuckin' troglodyte! I already told 'im that I ain't interested. It don't matter if I slept with 'im or not, what don't he get about that? I jus' ain't interested!

The pounding on her front door didn't relent and instead grew louder and more insistent. In reply she growled as she threw her legs over the side of the bed.

Might as well get this over with. He better get wots wot or else me fists will want a word with his gob.

Grabbing her robe in a huff, she rubbed her eyes as she groggily made her way out to answer the door.

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Beetlejuice balled his fist and hammered on the door again. With each pound, the door gave slightly and shook on its hinges. If she didn't answer after this, then this door was coming down.

"She has to be here. Shit, always hiding behind her friend! What a coward!" Beetlejuice grumbled under his breath before his ears perked up when a voice was finally heard from inside. As it came closer to the door, he was able to understand what was being said.

"Keep y'pants on! Bloody fuckin' hell, it's too early for this!"

Cracking open the door, Cherise carefully poked her head out to address whomever was so rudely interrupting her much needed rest. Lifting her puffy and tired eyes, she pushed back her mess of hair, and visibly lit up when she beheld who was on the other side of her door.

"Oh! BJ! What are y'doing here? What's tha' matter? Everfink ok?" Cocking her head, a wash of confusion hit her before she looked up and down the hallway for any other guest. "Where's Lydsia?"

"Cut the bullshit!" BJ unintentionally snarled, as his original plan was hijacked by his anger; completely tossing his ruse out the window, before jumping behind the steering wheel, and doing a burnout before speeding off. "Tell me where she is." He ordered through gritted teeth as his eyes shot past her and into the dimly lit apartment.

Stepping back, Cherise shook her head in an attempt to further wake up before blinking and addressing him yet again.

"Huh? Whattaya…"

"Don't ya fuckin' act like ya don't know! I'm here for my wife! So ya better be a good little girl and go fetch her from wherever she is cowering before I get angry." He huffed, before pushing the door open to get a better look inside the room.

I'll show Lydia that hiding behind others won't be stopping me this time. Who the hell does she think I am? With a flick of my finger, this whole building could be gone if I wanted it to. I've been nothin' but patient, generously giving her some space to cool, and behaving well enough. After all, no one died… well not directly that I know of, an' that wouldn't be on me. She better appreciate me for that fact alone. I'm getting real sick of this bullshit and if she doesn't come out…

Fighting back his murderous thoughts, he swallowed down the prickly words that he really wanted to say. The walls that were holding back those carnal urges were getting thinner and thinner. He needed to find her soon, or else he wouldn't be responsible for any repercussions.

When he couldn't see any further into the room, he pushed his way inside the quiet apartment. One step was all that he could take before Cherise quickly swooped in front of him and effectively blocked his path. While she wasn't much in stature, neither was he, and he had only topped her height by an inch. As he paused to grasp what was happening, she took that opportunity to get in his face.

"Oi, bruv! What y'doin? Y'startin? Where's she at?" Slapping her hands upon his chest, he stumbled back, while she aggressively jerked her head up towards his as she threw her words at him. Asserting herself, she folded her arms and watched him carefully for his next move.

Rolling his eyes, Beetlejuice effortlessly shoved past her without even giving her a response. What sort of gibberish is the little goblin even speaking? Ugh.

"LYDIA! Ya better get out here NOW, or so help me!" Lifting his index finger into the air, his warning boomed throughout the apartment.

Not having any of this, Cherise once again cemented herself in front of him while her normal cheerful and bubbly demeanor was now long gone. Curling her lip, her round cheeks progressively reddened as she glared at the man who had invaded her personal space and now had the gall to be threatening her best friend.

"OI! Ima bang y'out dicked if y'don't tell me what y'doin?! Where's Lydia?!" This time she knocked her fist hard on his arm and that finally appeared to get his full attention. At first, he shared with her a curious gaze then looked to where she had struck him, before looking back to her as his eyes darkened, refocusing onto the task at hand.

"Oh, like hell ya don't know! I'm warnin' ya right now, pipsqueak, stop tryin' to hide her from me." His snide words of warning were filled with venom as he leaned forward, only a foul-breath away from her face.

A homicidal burning to take action made his balled fists burst open, exposing his now dagger-like red fingernails. As he fought back the lethal knee-jerk reaction, his fingers tremored and ached for him to act upon the gruesome daydreams that were playing within his head. Cherise snorted her disgust at his threat, oblivious to, or perhaps ignoring just how close to death that she was.

With a huff, he pushed a tidal wave of his dangerous aura at her. This was his final warning.

Instead of recoiling, she didn't back down nor did she blink as she answered him with just as much fire. In response to the warning that she had clearly felt emanate from the ghost in front of her, her own aura was ablaze and burning brighter than ever before.

"She ain't 'ere, mate! Right proper rude, innit! Now, are y'gonna tell me wot's wot or do I have ta force it atta ya? Y'bett'r notta hurt her or else Ima gon repay y'tenny!" She spat, glaring like a bull before a fight, while widening her stance and readying herself for anything that he was about to throw at her.

A malicious roar within his soul erupted up from his toes and flashed throughout every atom of his corporeal being. Whizzing through the air in a blur, his nearly imperceptible arm swung around as his five razor-like nails were cheering on with jubilation to feel the separation of flesh.

Cherise stood unmoving, undaunted by the stinging of her neck where he had made contact and his hand was now held motionless. A trickle of blood escaped downward from where he was still pressed into the supple flesh of her neck. Something about her inflection finally made her words sink in, halting him on the spot just as he was about to decapitate the tenacious woman. With heavy ragged breaths she readjusted her stance to press further against his deadly hand and presented her unspoken answer and a renewed challenge to his action.

Lowering his now normalized hand, her undaunted disposition prompted Beetlejuice to take a step back to analyze her. The auric worry that overpowered her fear of death radiated from behind her defensive green eyes and it had told him all that he needed to know.

Without a word, he gave the room one last examination before he turned on his heel and briskly walked out into the hallway.

Not accepting this, Cherise's chest was heaving and burning as she balled her fists. She wasn't having any of this rubbish and was immediately hot on his heels, ready to prove to him exactly who she was and find out what was happening.

Storming out of her front door, she needed answers, but came to a stop in the middle of the now empty hallway. Straightening up, still prepared for the worst, she spun in place and scrutinized for any hint of where he could have hidden or ran.

As her manicured eyebrows lifted, her wide, round eyes darted around while her face softened and paled at what she had discovered; not a soul could be seen nor heard in the hallway that was now uncharacteristically reminiscent of a scene right out of a horror film. The buzzing fluorescent lights hurt her tired eyes but that wasn't going to hinder her.

Defiantly shaking her head, she chose the most logical direction, and sprinted down the hallway until she was in front of the only elevator. With a quivering lip Cherise examined the elevator but found that it had not been used. Pushing open the heavy metal door for the stairs, it scraped and creaked loudly against its metal frame, only adding to the creepy ambience that was left hanging. After examining the stairwell to the exit, she stepped back into the hallway and dug around for any explanation of what had just transpired, but none could be found.

"People don't jus' disappear…" Scratching her scalp she looked back to her still-open door.

With her ears and eyes on high alert, her feet felt heavy as she trekked back to her apartment. Standing in front of her doorway, she gave one last look around.

Closing the door behind herself, the breaking morning light filtered through the sheer red curtains, casting a fiery hue within the room. It's warm and welcoming appearance did nothing to ease the churning of her stomach.

Fanning her face, Cherise swallowed the sourness that started to rise in her throat as she settled down upon her pillowy couch. Embracing one of the oversized pillows, it gave her no comfort. Her jaw tightened as she leaned towards the side table, pushing an empty bottle out of the way to dig out her phone and a joint from a small fabric clutch.

For a moment she hesitated, caught in a doubt-ridden thought before lifting her phone and her long fake nails clicked the glass screen. Frantically tapping out a quick message with one hand, she lit the joint that was pinched between her lips. As she took a long drag and held it, her brow lowered as her phone chimed when her message was sent away to its intended.

Frustrated, rubbing her eye, she smeared more eyeliner as she exhaled in a huff.

"The fook… was… that? It was… real… yeh?" She drawled, staring into space for a few minutes, hoping for a respite from the jarring interaction that she had experienced with a person that she had once trusted and liked.

Lifting her free hand to her neck, she absentmindedly ran it over the scalpel-like cut. It burned and itched as she did so, while she internally struggled with what was reality, and how uncharacteristic and bizarre the whole exchange had been.

Yet, nothing could quell the all-encompassing worry that was eating away at her. Stilling her relentlessly tapping finger, she made up her mind. Growling, she once again unlocked her phone and brought it up to her ear. As it rang, she bobbed the joint in her lips and rocked her body in place.

After a beep, Cherise gripped the joint in one hand before nearly yelling into the phone.

"Lydia Deetz! It's y'bes' mate, Cherise Taylor. Ya fookin' betta be aw'right an' y'better call me as soon as y'get this message." Adjusting herself, she gripped the phone tighter to her ear before slowly deflating back into the pile of pillows. With a quiet voice she continued. "Or… or, I, I dunno what I'd do without y'girl. Jus' call me, please. I'm scared for y'luv… so, please Lydsia. Jus, tell me y'safe."

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A sizzle, subtle at first, emanated from the hazy silvered glass until the sound grew and began to rattle within its sturdy wooden oval frame. With one last final seizure, the vanity stilled after Beetlejuice exited in a burst from the old but familiar mirror.

Grinding his teeth, his eyes meticulously scanned the bedroom like a detective on a vital case. To his vexation, the only evidence that there had been anyone there was from his arrival, as the newly disturbed dust wafted up, catching in the light like a spotlight that streamed into the room through the curtains. The lack of life in her old bedroom caused the ever-present simmer of anger to continue to intensify within his soul.

Irritation, annoyance, and the memories from their argument were like a stone in his shoe and as time continued to pass, it engulfed his every thought.

Floating over to the bed, his bottom fell upon the spiderweb duvet, prompting a plume of dust to swirl into the room. Leaning forward, he tapped his cheek while wracking his brain on her whereabouts. He had been yearning to find any little bit of proof, proof to show that she had retreated back to this place. He wanted to find her here, surrounded by her childhood memories of their escapades; without fail, those fond remembrances, had always eased her back into submission and prepared her to go back home with him. Instead, he found that the room was closed up tightly like a prison, the French door to the Widow's Walk was still latched, and not a single object looked out of place from the last time that they had been there.

Growling in frustration he jumped up, now filled with a newfound resolution and determination to discover where the hell she could have been.

Giving his neck a subtle tilt, it gave a loud crack before he disappeared from sight, once again leaving the room as quiet as the grave.

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Popping from room to room in the old Victorian home, Beetlejuice masqueraded his visage as various household objects to covertly scope out the environment. After a thorough reconnaissance, and a few more times for good measure, he had discovered that boring ol' Chucky and Deals were doing the same old rigamarole. Clearly they were creatures of habit, but Beetlejuice knew that for his own afterlife, such monotony was an ingredient to a recipe for insanity.

With a sigh, BJ made the decision to join the stupid breathers that were residing in the living room. Possessing a vase that was close to Lydia's father, he observed the scene as it unfolded.

Turning a page of his newspaper, Charles took the opportunity to take a sip of his morning coffee while Delia attempted to paint his "likeness".

Pausing, Charles lowered his paper with a crinkle, and turned his full attention to the vase before giving it a quizzical but concerned expression. Startled by his abnormal intuitiveness, BJ looked around to see how he was so easily discovered.

"Delia, what in the world is this, ahem, music that you're playing? It sounds like someone has a bug caught in their windpipe and is struggling to cough it up." Coolly concealing his face behind the paper, Charles criticized the increasingly cacophonous sounds that were coming from the stereo directly adjacent to the vase.

"Cha-haaarles… just because YOU do not have an appreciation for traditional Tuvian throat singing, does NOT mean that others cannot appreciate the deep and rich melody that speaks directly to the soul. You can't really be expecting me to paint to your old fuddy-duddy soundtracks of the 50's; smearing my very essence upon the canvas to your favorite Doo-wops, now do you?" Delia flung her brush around, effectively splattering paint about in the room as she made her case. "It's like comparing a Château Margaux to whatever cheap beer that Old Bill is drinking all day outside of his barbershop."

"But, I like his beer." The weight of Charles's retort was as heavy as a helium inflated balloon which earned him a dramatic eyeroll from his wife.

"Honestly, there is absolutely no accounting for taste in this house!" Disgusted and slapping her hands upon her hips, Delia directed her gaze to the ceiling.

"Isn't that the truth." Slouching down as he mumbled under his breath, Charles hid behind and tightened his grip on his thin, now paint-flecked newspaper shield.

His small act of defiance pulled a chuckle from the camouflaged ghost as Delia whipped her head in Charles's direction. Although this was entertaining, it still wasn't enough to distract Beetlejuice from his task at hand.

Just as Delia was about to make a quip in retaliation, a loud knock resonated throughout the house. With mouth agape, she turned her head towards the next room, while her curiosity overwrote whatever scathing would-be argument that Charles had been bracing for.

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Opening the door, surprise and recognition brightened up Delia's face when she saw who happened to be standing on the stoop to the back entrance.

"Why Mr. Beetleman! We haven't seen you in ages! What have you been up to?" Taking a step back, Delia motioned for the handy-dandy handyman to enter into the kitchen, to which he obliged.

"Hey Missus D! Yeah, been forever! Was in the area and figured I'd stop by and pester my favorite clients." BJ tucked his thumbs under his overall's straps and flashed his biggest smile to the red head.

Poking his head in the kitchen, Charles was drawn in by the voice that piqued his curiosity.

"Did I hear… Mr. Beetleman! Oh! I gotta go do, uh, yeah… go…" Hurriedly ducking back, Charles disappeared from sight followed by the beating footsteps rushing out the front door.

"Oh, don't mind him. He's been going stir-crazy since the weather has finally been becoming nice but it's unfortunately still too cold to garden." Rolling her eyes, Delia directed her attention back and grinned to the handyman.

"Huh. I see." BJ rocked on his heels and tried to feign interest although the tremors of anger beneath his cold flesh made him want to scream. Swallowing it down, he continued with a perfect smile. "So, what have you folks been up to? I'm sure you've been busy, busy, busy with all of that disgusting talent that you have."

Already making instant coffee, Delia perked up from the task and accepted the opportunity to brag. Twirling around and spilling a little of the coffee upon the floor, she strutted forward with a great smile.

"Oh! Soooo many projects! My art is getting a lot of recognition since I've been donating many of my larger pieces to the various businesses around town. I've been told by the Chamber of Commerce that they've been receiving a lot of feedback! I just wish that they'd tell me what it was." Delia was overjoyed as she jutted out the other mug of coffee to Beetlejuice.

Accepting it he took an unhurried sip before making his next move.

"So, what about the kiddo? What has she been up to? Surely with a mother like you, she had to have made somethin' for herself."

He didn't think Delia's smile could get any wider, but it did.

"Oh! She does take after me, doesn't she? I may be her step-mother, but I think talent is contagious!" Pulling her coffee towards her chest, it spilled more of the dark liquid in her excitement.

BJ grimaced a smile while waiting for her to continue.

"Letsee… Oh, she had such a rocky time when she was in college." She paused to lean forward towards him in a conspirator's manner. "Did you know that sweet boyfriend of hers?"

Nodding with an air of compassion, BJ took a sip of his coffee while struggling to refrain from breaking the ceramic handle, as he gripped it tighter when he thought about that wretched breather.

"Welllllll, after six years of what we thought would end up in a marriage and a big family… he dumped her out of the blue! Worst of all, Charles won't tell me why! I know he knows what happened, but his lips are sealed tight! Can you imagine that?! Keeping secrets from the one you claim to love?!" Staring at the ceiling, Delia sneered at the thought before directing her eyes back to her guest and with a fresh smile, waited for any juicy gossip that may come to light.

"Oh, woooow. Really? You don't say! I certainly could never do that." Feigning surprise, he took a step back and gave a little distance between them.

"Yes! I know! Here I thought things would work out. Oh well, the poor thing was so heart-broken that she hasn't had a relationship since." Sighing, Delia resigned herself into the cloud-fabric adorned breakfast nook and got comfortable.

"What a real shaaame." BJ turned around to hide the hint of joy that he felt when he thought of their breakup before forcefully transforming it into a look of sympathy.

"On the plus side, she's focused all that energy into her work like a real trooper and has started to make a name for herself in the art community! You know, real art comes from suffering!" Delia mused, closing her eyes with a large smile.

"Oh yeah… You can really see all of that suffering from your art. So, uh," Beetlejuice leaned one hand on the table and looked at the ditz below. "She been around lately?"

After a minute Delia registered the question and popped up to attention in her seat.

"Oh, that girl!" She shook her head with a huff. "We haven't seen Lydia in forever! Except for some holidays, she's been so aloof or busy that we have to remind her that we are even here."

Before Delia could continue, BJ anxiously tapped his foot upon the tile before setting the mug down upon the table.

"Kids; can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em. " He shrugged. "Look, I gotta run. Gotta go unclog a drain, if ya know what I mean." Moving quickly, he dashed out the door and into the ether.

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"Where the fuck is she?!"

Standing in front of the large picture window of their apartment, Beetlejuice yanked his filthy stringy hair before he diverted his attention to the gray and overcast sky.

"She's not anywhere! Not anywhere that she usually likes to go! Not even in the Neitherworld! Why the fuck can't I find her?!" Lowering his head, he stared at his dirty and long-dried blood covered fingers.

From the moment that he left the Deetz's home in Peaceful Pines, he had spent all day jouncing from one place after another, and yet still he found not a trace of her. There had been no release for his frustration from his laser focused thoughts about finding her. Not even when that security guard foolishly tried to stop him from entering her favorite mausoleum; the one that she would sneak into when she was down. By then, his patience was long gone, and he didn't care what she'd think if there was a body count and let his fury out. By the time that he was done, there was very little left of the poor soul.

A small snarl escaped his lips before he stilled the frustration. It was too much effort, and now that it was already so late in the afternoon, he couldn't keep the flame of anger fueled for any longer.

"No, she wouldn't really leave me for good. She needs me. She loves me. She owes me." Slowly, he felt himself deflate as he turned around.

Floating over the mess, he found a seat in the other armchair that he had spared from the fate of its matching counterpart; which was laying in bits and pieces on the littered floor before him. Vindictively kicking a bit of the broken wood, he found that it did not abate this other feeling that was rising up within him.

Letting out a long sigh, he attempted to run his hand through his tangled and sticky hair. Where was she? Seriously, why can't I find her... let alone sense where she's hiding. I've tried over a hundred times, yet nothing! Never in my afterlife could I not sense her!

With a long groan, he leaned over the arm of the chair and lifted his eyes to the buffet next to him. There on its flat wooden surface was a picture of her as a child. Within the simple black frame, there she was, holding her old cat Percy with the sweetest and most innocent of smiles. It sent a pang through his gut as he turned away from the reminder of the better times.

Slouching further into the chair, he tried to rack his brain on what more he could do to find her and bring her back to where she belonged. Yet, the room felt too quiet for his own comfort and he didn't like being left in his thoughts, but his thoughts were all that there was left to listen to. His heart ached and egged him on to take action to ease his subdermal ire. Unfortunately, not only did he feel it was too quiet in their apartment, it was all too empty.

Turning his gaze to the front door, he visualized the ghost of a memory past.

She'd always come in and happily plop into my lap to tell me all about her day. Which usually led to other things I've grown quite used to. Fuck, where was she?

Sitting up, he shook his head to wring out the thoughts and formulate his next plan of attack.

"Do I just aimlessly go and look for her, or do I wait here in case she returns? Fuck!" He spat as he slapped a hand on his knee. "No, I WILL find her!"

Slamming his eyes closed, he pushed his energy harder than he ever had before, shoving it further and further, as he desperately searched for even any hint of the scent of her.

Behind his eyelids, he finally saw a trace of light and followed that. From the pin-head sized hole, it expanded and filled his vision with the scene of a darkened mirror. The murky imagery faded into clarity and for a split second, he saw her. There, in front of a sink, she was gargling with her eyes closed. As she leaned forward to spit, he found himself lost in her beautiful but worn features before she lifted her sad eyes up towards him.

A shattering sound accompanied a blinding light that violently struck him as he fell back into his cushioned seat.

"OW! What the fuck!" He rubbed his cheek with a scowl. "She's somewhere out there, and just when I find her, someone cut the connection! DAMMIT!"

Adjusting in his seat, he gripped the armrests and forced his senses forward harder than before to seek her out. Static filled his ears as a dark nothingness was all that he could see. No matter where he looked, no matter how he prodded, the darkness was the only thing that he could find or sense.

For a good half hour, he clawed his way through, against those unrelenting empathic waves until he was finally too exhausted to look any further.

"Who the hell keeps cutting me off? This is getting old, and fast! Fucking hell, why didn't I pay more attention to where she was?"

A hefty blanket of defeat wrapped around him as reality began to rear its ugly head into his peripheral. It began to feel like it was impossible to reach her. It was as if SHE was the ghost and that frustrated him even more.

Examining his fingers, he flexed them and suddenly he didn't feel very strong. In fact, he felt down-right powerless. I hate being cut off from her. I hate being away from her. It isn't natural for me anymore. I gotta have her in my afterlife. Without her... Well...

He looked to the front door again and sighed.

I'll just wait here until she came back. I know in my heart of hearts that she would at least do that, and I'm gonna be here when she does.

Lifting the small portrait off of the buffet, he held it out to take in her face once more.

Is she really so mad with me that she wouldn't come back? There's no way she'd betray me. She isn't like that, no matter what I've done. She's just too damn good of a person to do anything like that. Besides, I know her better than anyone else and she'd never do anything to damn me.

Pausing, he leaned forward and scrutinized the picture.

How the fuck am I being blocked? Unless… Does she know? Nah, there's no way in hell she can; that I've made for damn sure.