“However,” he shifts his hips again, “When it comes to you, I dare not give the complete count.”
A gentle pressure pushes against the small of my back as I swivel my top half to see what it could be. He was using his heels to force me towards him. “Any more questions on that matter? May we continue our game?”
Pausing for a moment, there was one more question I had. “I have one. In the cellar, and even just now… if you aredead… why do you stillbleed?”
“Right.” He scoffs. “Remove my clothes.”
“Seriously?” I throw up my hands. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Demand things with no context.”
“Because I love watching your reactions, you have a filthy mind, little bird.” The air shifts, and his demeanor changes. “I will answer this last question, mostly because it will make our game more intriguing.”
He glances down at the dagger. I reach over, removing it from his chest. Then, working my way to the second button, my heart is pounding like a base drum. I tuck the blade under the little, round piece of plastic and stop. “No, I want the mask off first?”
“You’ve already seen my face-”
“Yes.” Cutting him off, “And lovely as it is, I am curious to see all your scars at once.” His eyes widen.
Once I release the knot in the mask, I finish with the rest of the buttons on his shirt, running my finger down its seam. Separating the hems. I draw the fabric back, revealing his bare chest riddled with scars. My fingers trail the lines, like a leaf floating with the ripples on a lake after a stone has been thrown in. Some of them are light pink with a white hue, showing their age. Others appear like dried-up wounds that could have happened a day ago. I caress them using a swipe of my finger, ending one to start another, with a sense of dedication and understanding.
“Now,” The words come out soft, caressing my lips with a gentle breeze, “Tell me why you still bleed.”
The crow’s feet deepen in the corner of his eyes. “It’s the Gods’ cruel way of punishing me for choosing to stay and protect, rather than crossing over to live happily in the memories of my past.” My head falls to one side, puzzled. I scoot closer—a toddler to their favorite storybook.
He notices this and continues, “When it’s one’s time to leave this plane, for what most humans believe to be a ‘betterone’, the reality of it all is you are only stepping into a looped existence—reliving what good memories you made in a life you already had.”
“How do you know that if you chose to stay?”
“A faceless—nameless deity, draped in all white, finds you lost in darkness. The echo of past mistakes… of chances not taken… beating you down harder than when you endure them in life.” Sorrow presents itself briefly in his eyes. “The emotions of those moments are unbearably loud. For instance, all goes silent, and the messenger speaks:
Brave soul—one who has overcome hardships most would find insufferable. Before you… lies a difficult decision indeed. You can stay and keep the promise of protection you have made, or you can step into the realm of your raison d’être.”
“He continued by saying:
Human souls have only two choices: they can stay and suffer the failures of their life, while spending eternity completing their ‘unfinished business’. Or they can move to the Great Beyond.
I chose to stay.” Rolling his head from side to side, “Little did I know the pain I volunteered for. I waited for those I loved to di as the loneliness of being forever alone, stuck rotting in a constant state of dread, slowly disintegratedmy soul. Waiting for the same time I was murdered—doomed to relive my grotesque death all over again, like a residual torture session.”
Pausing for a moment, he turns his head, refusing to make eye contact, “Left with hope that eventually one would be reincarnated to live a better life to achieve thatraison d’être.” Practically sitting in his lap now, I rest my palm on his cheek—the hope that this gesture of ‘understanding’ will calm him. I release the tie from around his neck, and as the knot loosens, I let it fall through my fingers. The cloth no longer secured around his face falls and billows behind him.
“What, is theraison d’être?” I inquire, “Did this ‘mystical being’ tell you?”
“It’s the Elysian Fields for most. The celestial spirit went more in-depth with that as well. But like I said,” He pulls his feet up to meet his ass, causing me to fall forward a little. “Though it’s just a loop of the memories made in one’s life that they live through, a continuous cycle, and they don’t even know that it’s happening.”
“Ok, so let me get this straight.” I prop myself up on my elbows, his chest firm beneath them, “You choose to stay and suffer rather than pass and be happy?” He nods. “So, wait, that still doesn’t explain why you bleed.”
Sitting back, I suck my teeth, awaiting his response. “Right, I can only bleed from the spots I was cut when I died. It’s one of the sick, twisted jokes that come with choosing to stay. It’s the only way… I can feel.” He gives me a slide glance. “After my duty, my promise was fulfilled. With that said, before your great-grandmother passed, she made me promise to remain here… for Charlie—your grandfather.”
He inhales sharply through his nose, before the story goes on, “Weathering away, and desperate, I took a blade to my body. I don’tknow what I was thinking. Perhaps I hoped that the being would find me once again, or that things would get less…lonely—that maybe I had the power to end it all.I felt lost, that was until Niven came along and could see me.”
“So, in the cellar,” I trace the palm of his hand, as it hangs, locked in the metal jaws of the cuffs. The very hand he cut open, before he shoved it in my face—the taste of his blood still potent on my tongue. I carry on with my question, “Did you do that yourself?”
“The cellar? No, that is different.” He shakes his head slowly, “When I died, it took a while for death to claim me. So, my residual passing in this state of existence is from the point of attack to the last breath—let me remind you, I didn’t die instantly. My last breath wasn’tuntil dawn.” His eyes gloss over for a moment as he is brought back to that day. I climb onto his lap, taking his face in my hands, guiding him to look at me—trying to break his focus on the past, when a realization hits me:
I am falling in love with him—a ghost.
