The Lost

Most cops don't get along real well with lawyers for a multitude of reasons. They're a way for cops to put blame to all the seemingly tedious procedures that must take place just to rectify justice. Sometimes those rules, sometimes the law, actually protects the criminal to such an extent that justice cannot be reached. I'm sure you can imagine how stressful that must be, to finally catch a criminal, just to have him fall through the cracks; those cracks created by the law that's suppose to help protect the people from said criminal.

This exact dilemma was where I was as I ran into Nina that day. She was defending one heinous man, a man who I had worked my ass of to get behind bars. Thanks to her, those bars seemed to become more of a dream of what 'should' happen, what morally 'ought' to happen. And in the end, the dream became a nightmare; he was let go, all charges dropped.

The last time I had seen her was the day I had introduced Kian to her. It was a month or so before I died. Never in my wildest dreams did I think they would get together, and besides, it wasn't even one of those 'introductions'. Kian had come in, helping me with a case involving a missing little boy, and in walked Nina into my office. I have no idea why she came in that day. It wasn't like I hadn't made it know I could care less if she lived and it wasn't like she cared enough to make amends. So why would she come in to 'just say hi'? I have no idea. But that's what she said as she walked straight into my office, "Hey Ari! I haven't talked to you in a while, and I just wanted to say hi!"

As she declared her innocent little statement, her dark, beady eyes kept darting towards Kian, who was sitting across from my desk, pretty much right next to her. Not even standing up to greet her, I said with a tired tone "Okay, what do you want?"

Her eyes wandered back to me and took in my expression, but kept up her charade, "Oh, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" she said. I mentally gagged, and then made the introduction. After she left, Kian didn't ask questions and I didn't offer any explanations. I thought I made it clear how vile she was from my tone, but apparently not.

Why we never really indulged in our emotions, on anything personal for that matter, I can only chalk-up to our first meeting. The fact that it all started on a personal level, with his explanation of his abilities to see ghosts, of a girl who was brutally beaten and murdered, and the weird feeling we both had in response to each other, I think set us up for a rebound effect. Instead of becoming closer, we pulled away, almost like it was too much to handle all at once. For me it was. The instant I saw him, something in me sparked, and being who I am, I ignored it; I hid it away. He didn't push either; he just followed suit. And that's how our ground level was formed, with both of us seemingly indifferent, each of us with our barriers up.

The only reason I knew anything about their relationship was because I was a ghost. Because I was now able to be inside Kian's life, inside that barrier and really try understand him. Even though that barrier was gone, it doesn't really change habit. The habits we were accustomed to just made it harder to cope with the new situation we found ourselves in. So we are now at a kind of stationary position, both trying to figure out where we stand. At least that's how I felt.

So you can imagine my dilemma. Should I step farther into our unknown boundaries and tell him my opinion, or just stay stasis, not saying anything and minding my own business?

While this conflict was raging in my mind, I didn't realize what was going on around me. I didn't realize that I had unconsciously teleported to the site of a grave. My grave. But that wasn't the shocking part. The part that the nerve-racking feeling that I was being watched hit me only momentarily before I felt an astronomical presence.

I turned around and what I saw made no sense in my head. Before me, about ten feet away, was Tom Anderson. What posed as Tom Anderson's the ghost that is.

I knew right away something was wrong. The red glint in his eyes was the first conscious awareness that he might not be Tom, but something else entirely. Once I realized that, my unconscious all but screamed at me as it rushed into understanding. His presence, though very strong and troubling had a black cloud surrounding it. It had a colder, hollow feeling that chilled me to my nonexistent bones. But what really got my attention was the fact that the humanity that horror victim ghosts are usually drenched in was not there. Instead, there was this dark, soulless presence his ghost was saturated in. If I didn't know any better, I would say he reeked of death.