Ghost Song

3AM

It's always 3am. 

I wake in the dark and lay there, bones shivering beneath my skin, my muscles taut with fear. It's always 3am when the shadows dance across my gaze, taunting fingers weaving the darkness into a noose, tantalisingly wrapping around my neck. It's always 3am when I wake and am frozen in place, somebody's memories blasting me with a thousand bullets. When it's done I reach for the phone and call him, my voice a feeble whisper in the darkness. 'There's another one.'

As soon as I've said it, I click off the call and throw the phone on my bedside table. Hanging my arm across my face, hiding myself from the world. I feel the noose still tight around my throat, a tentative touch almost like lace, but growing tighter, tighter until I find myself unable to breathe. My phone rings and after the sixth chime I press it to my ear.

'You alright?' He whispers into the night, his husky voice one of too much coffee and cigarettes. Oh how I miss that voice and how he whispered sweet nothings into my skin.

'Yeah.' I breathe and finally my voice breaks the constricting binds around my throat. I sit up and rub my eyes. 'Long night?' I ask.

'It's always a long night.' He puffed a long draw of his smoke and exhaled. 'Thanks. I just want to.. You know.. Make sure you're...'

His voice drawled on the line and I was reminded then of all the times before. The sinking of my heart dropped into my stomach.

'Yeah, I'm fine.' I paused and rolled my shoulders. 'I'm going to sleep.'

'No, you're not. You're going to stew on this 'til morning. I'll let you know when we find it.' He barked a direction to help his driver and I smiled to myself.

'Thanks.'

'Yeah.' he exhaled, I could feel the shiver of his voice against my neck, even though he was miles away, what seemed like lightyears from me.

So awkward now. It's always so awkward with him.

'Good luck.' I whispered and swiped off the call, deciding to throw my phone across the room. It crumbled into pieces on the floor and I felt exactly the same. My heart falling at my feet in shards.

I don't know how much longer I can do this.

Though my knees threatened to give out on me, I persevered. My wanderings through the dark gloom of my home found the kitchen in my line of sight. Through the curtains of shadows I pushed through and found the fridge, pulling out a carton of juice and looking at the dismal offerings inside.

Leftover chinese, probably too rancid to even poke. Multiple open cans of energy drinks, half drank and left to stupor on the side. I'd thrown them in the fridge 'for later'. And those later-ons never came. As I turned towards the cupboard to grab a glass, I saw her.

Immediately the juice tumbled from my hand, pooling at my feet like bright orange blood. I gasped a breath and held it, as a cold, icy chill ran across my face, my arms as the lady stood there, watching me.

'Help me.' she moaned, a voice fragmented and pained. She reached her hand for me and I noticed the blood dripping from her fingers, her nails broken and clipped, the marks along her palms, as she reached out with all of her might. 'Help me, please.' she begged, consumed by the iciness of her presence and the thick rope that still hung around her neck, I forgot to breath.

Her bone-white face had open lacerations, boiled red welts and a hundred sharp slices.I finally took a breath as she reached forward even closer, her hand touched mine, and went right through.

My knees finally gave way as I noticed her stomach leaking all over my linoleum. Her innards like slippery red snakes flopping out of her. Her eyes were the sharpest thing of her, a brilliant blue and a dazzling green, her hair looked like they had been cascading waves of espresso against her light skin. I bit my lip and fought the pain inside of my chest, the pain that went like a sharp torpedo through my body and into my skull. Try with all of my might, I couldn't quite see what she was showing me, her memories were like splinters of glass thrown at me to try and piece together. This bit here, that bit there. I reached through and as soon as she dove her hand into me, she had pushed herself away, all the shards of her memories falling to the floor like porcelain.