(Warning: BDSM, Lesbian, Interracial and age gap love story, if you don't like that please leave kindly)
When a young graceless, introvert artist, named Ashley Black lives in the busy city of New York is called for an assignment to paint a big spend...
(This is only for those who truly believe the impossible and much more with all imagination things may be possible my darlings)
I see her weeping. She's absolutely tormented herself now more so that she's still and breathless in the moment.
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She may not see me, but I stare at her in the eyes as she's torn and a transcended mistress. Her doll like eyes and defining cheekbones are so fixated and sharp while the days she barely eats.
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Today is the day my body goes underground, soon I will roam God know's where. Ever since I've been murdered I've roamed Earth. I guess exactly when I am buried I will go somewhere and face the fate I was destined. Hell or Heaven?
"Where are you?" she fell by herself , loosing strength and hope in her lower limbs. "if you won't give me a sign then God must!"
After yelling to the floor, she was praying in Latin at a fetal position in the center of a rug. My favorite rug in fact. A while after seeing her say her prayers I was tormented within, watching my girlfriend suffer for me so horribly. I was starting to lose my religion myself and question, what if after I go under and there is no hell? Because here, oh yes, this... This is hell watching her in so much pain. She's wearing my precious ring I was going to propose to her with.
"Maman," she wept louder. "I'm so scared!" and just when I thought she couldn't be any louder "I AM LOST" she screamed aloud.
I got to my knees by her and tried to touch her but all my fingers did was go through. This is not how I wanted her : Trapped in black. My little mistress wears black on my dying day. My family carried out the traction towards her to be a mistress of the dead. What a stupid demonic tradition it was to be carried out to Ashley. She wasn't twisted and she wasn't a Robinson. She was not born into some sick family like I was.
I wanted to rip the clothes off her instantly. "pick yourself up my darling." I whispered into her ear, knowing she couldn't hear me officially but I knew she'd get the message. The dead can speak with the living in a way, the living can feel the eyes of the dead I know.
