Ghosted (completed)

Fake It Til You Make It, Baby

I desperately wished luck was on my side and I'd be able to erase what happened between Axel and me from existence and listen to Oliver try and recall what happened.

Unfortunately, I was blessed with the best birthday present of all.

A suicide victim.

Oliver had just opened his mouth to speak when I felt him, and evidently, he did too because he stopped abruptly and followed my eyes to the front door. The person's face was mutilated beyond recognition, and I found it hard from where I stood to distinguish male or female. The closer it crept, the more dread tightened my chest and I found it difficult to breathe.

"What's going on?" Axel asked, his eyes on the victim, but given his worried expression, he couldn't see it.

I started to back away, shaking my head, "Please, no."

It's my birthday, give me a pass. Just this one time.

"Ophelia." Oliver whispered, edging closer, eyes trained on the victim with caution. "What's it going to do?"

"The same that the little girl did." I struggled to get the words out and climbed up on to the cushion of the sofa beside Axel as if it'd make a difference. "Except with. . . with these guys, I feel it. All their emotions. All their pain."

Oliver's expression fell into one of sympathy as the victim neared, and now that it was so close I could make out what I assumed were breast under a tattered red tank top. I looked to Axel, but even with him standing, he had no idea what was staring at me.

"Come on." I shut my eyes and tried to steady my breathing. "Just get it over with."

The victim closed the distance between us and with the mending of our bodies into one, a guttural sob escaped me and I collapsed. I'd never know if I slipped off the edge of the sofa or if Axel had caught me, as I was now in a dark room, hiding under a desk. Then the scene shifted and I was cowering in front of a man shouting profanities. Then, slowly I pushed myself up on to the wall of the overpass bridge and stared down at the cars rushing below me. With one final breath I squeezed my eyes shut and fell forward, but with the impact of my body hitting the ground, another agonizing sob escaped me.

"Ophelia!" it was Axel, one of his arms across my chest, pulling me into the comfort of his own. I didn't look at him, I just stared at the ground, every inch of my body in excruciating pain.

"Ophelia, what's going on?" he grasped my jaw between his calloused fingers and turned my head so I was staring into his eyes. "Do I call the police? 9-1-1?"

I draped my own arm across my lower abdomen and sunk to my knees. "And tell them what?"

Axel didn't have a response.

Oliver, having remained so still and silent he'd become one with the wall, finally moved to crouch beside me and touched his hand to my shoulder. However, in doing this, a flicker of an image floated in my line of sight. A house.

My house.

"I don't understand." I whispered, scanning his face for an answer.

"This is what I remembered." he breathed, long lashes brushing his ashen cheeks as he shook his head. "And arguing. I was arguing with someone. Then they took off and I just stared at your house."

If I had the energy, I might have laughed at the thought of Oliver stalking me. "You do realize how creepy that sounds, right?"

"I know." he shook his head. "But whoever killed me is obviously obsessed with you too, Ophelia. You've seen my social media. I wasn't. . . I mean, I don't think I was obsessed with you."