Sweetheart

With a message like that written in crimson blood, what the hell did she expect from me as my heart pounded in both affection and terror?

It had to have been a morbid attempt at comedy. It had to have been! She spoke nothing like that when she was alive!

Despite my concerns, I covered my mouth with my hand, too scared to even emit a small squeal. I didn't want my blood to become the next paint for my room, so I kept as quiet as possible to attempt to not become a poor mosquito sacrificed to the sheetrock.

(But could a ghost even touch or harm me if it tried?)

And what was with the way she wrote about me?

"Sweetheart"?

Did she perhaps mistake me for someone else? Her beloved?

Whatever was in my other hand crashed and dented the floor, and the shame of stupidity and affection coursed through my body until I was immobilized by my weakness.

Yes, had it been in any other situation, such a word from her would have set my spirit ablaze in love, searing my cheeks and the rest of my body all the same. I would have sprinted to her willingly and given her the sweetest hug with the giddiest laughter I could conjure. If she had spoken lovingly to me before she died, the sheer joy would have been unmatched as it immersed me in pure ecstasy.

This here… This moment made my blood run cold…

My eyes darted around the room, waiting for the slightest movement of an object to confirm I wasn't just imagining things.

I wanted to ask for more clarification about the situation, but since I was told not to speak a word, I acted as if I had a gun pointed at my head. It would have been so easy to retreat to my parents' room and beg for their pity—to escape from this Bermuda Triangle I had found myself in and would soon be the location of my demise.

Yet I didn't.

Knowing Melina could be watching my every move was both so terrifying and fascinating that I complied without too much hesitation.

After all, if my life was on the line, did genuine reason matter anymore? Adrenaline was the antithesis of good decision-making, so I submitted to my wretched circumstances as my palm lowered from my mouth.

I nodded complacently as if to agree with Melina's—if it was really her—eerie memo.

Gulping, chilled breaths crept along the skin of my face as I awaited a response—something, anything. If I could have had a peep or scratch, I would have been content!

Nonetheless, my stomach flipped around again when more red streaks decorated my wall, and I was beginning to wonder what the source of the liquid was if a ghost was just a spirit with no physical form.

I decided I didn't really want to know and simply prayed it was an illusion for only my eyes as the rest of the message formed by the black hole:

"Good. Nobody should know about me.

Now, I want you to come back here tomorrow night—as you would in pursuit of rest, regardless—and meet me in my new visible form. I assure you: All your doubts will be dispelled if you heed this memo and come to see me. I'd love to hear your thoughts about picking up my project, wouldn't you think? How has it been?"

The contrast between the saccharine, playful implications of the last lines and the foreboding nature of the rest of the note was so jarring in my head that it took me a few moments to figure out how I wanted to respond to her.

(The writing didn't sound like her. I knew it.)

She asked an open-ended question, right? That must have meant she wanted a response from me, but she also pressured me to not speak a word just minutes earlier. What a predicament I was in that I chose to break her rules and cautiously cross that line she had drawn as I stepped closer to the hole, supposing it was my pipeline to her existence.

(I needed to stop cursing Zixin for the rash things he did after this.)

"If you may allow me to speak to you, Melina," I whispered in a dignified manner, hoping to not awaken a bear (either of my parents) from its slumber, "then I shall come here tomorrow night and fulfill your request. I've been enjoying learning about your novel so far, and I'd love to tell you about how it's going." I had an awkward smile on my face as I spoke to the air. "All I've wanted—"

I cut myself off, expression faltering.

She didn't need to know how I felt about her in the aftermath of such a scare.

My emotions… I wouldn't let them control me! I needed to assert myself better.

But all I wanted was to see her face again after her death—to see that grin that adorned it so breathtakingly that I never knew how to speak around her.

Desperation.

It was my vulnerability, but I wasn't going to relent so effortlessly to her when she was the one with power over the situation.

With a subtle sigh and nod, I said, "I'll return here tomorrow."

Considering the insinuation of that decision… Not a chance!

The intelligent part of my brain told me I needed to get out of here before the sunset less than twenty-four hours from now. I'd have to see her another time, if ever.

However, I had no courage to run from my captor when I was already wrapped around her finger.

A pleased smiley face was drawn on the wall before the liquid crystallized and sublimated, entirely absent from my sight.

Considering those faded notes, I wondered if I would cave in to her as soon as the next night arrived.

To be in love with a spectre… Maybe it was not right under any system of morals, yet there was something so enticing about my love extending beyond the limits of mortality. It made my skin tingle in anticipation, knowing she was right within my grasp, and I would only have to wait one more day to experience that connection that had eluded me for so long.

If her note meant anything, it at least seemed to indicate she had some sort of interest in me, though I could not discern whether it was out of genuine fondness or an indebted sense of admiration.

Foolish me perilously hoped it was the first.

Foolish me wanted to forget the supernatural and return to a deceitful reality that tried avoiding me many months ago.

Without even brushing my teeth, I landed on my bed as the terror wore off and left me with a debilitatingly drowsy shell. Mind racing but still incoherent, my eyes fell shut slowly as I drifted into a world of lies that wouldn't pester me with thoughts of what was to come the next day.

Frankly, what was I supposed to do when I was tempted by the sweet feeling of love that nearly reached my fingertips but deterred by the uneasiness of all the red flags and warning signs around me?