《The Woman》


 The Woman

    My name is Jack Barron. I am 26 years old. I live alone in a small, one-story house. People say I''m a quiet man that doesn''t talk unless he needs to. They''re right, I hate tedious and needless banter. I work a long shift every day and don''t get home until around 11:30 PM, starting every day with a visit to the gym, as bodybuilding is my only hobby. The date was November 16th, 2025, and it was 11:00 PM. After an exhausting day at the office, I was excited to walk home, which was pretty odd considering I''ve developed quite a fear of the dark in recent years. A good portion of the walk back to my place is poorly illuminated. As if that wasn''t already bad, for the past several years I''ve never seemed to be able to get over that phobia that something was stalking me in the dark, or the apprehension that my empty home was never completely empty, and sometimes I would feel like someone was standing directly behind me, observing my every action, or sitting next to me on my living room couch watching the television with me. As uncomfortable as that feeling is, I never turned my head to peer over my shoulder. I am used to seeing absolutely nothing there when I do that, so I figure I''d save myself the trouble of looking.


    The walk home was the same as it''s been since I started working here about 6 years ago; boring, time-consuming, uneventful, and pretty silent. It remained that way up until about the darkest part of my journey. I was walking casually when I paused, having stepped on something. I removed my foot to reveal a large shard of glass that had a blue tint towards one end. It looked like it came from the sun tinted glass of a car windshield. I picked it up as carefully as to not gash myself on its sharp edges. It was fairly large, about the size, lengthwise, of a soda can. Ordinarily, I would''ve thought nothing of it, but as I turned on my phone light and scanned the area, there was a noticeable lack of more shards. In fact, this was the only one I could find. Puzzled, I turned off my light, shoved my phone back into my pocket and the shard of glass into the garbage bin that was ten feet away from it, in order to prevent someone from stepping on it and getting hurt. I then continued walking.


    Not a minute later, I noticed the silhouette of a female figure. She was walking slower than me in the same direction, and almost looked like she was in a stupor. I kept moving with my eyes trained forward. Eventually, I managed to get close enough to catch a clear view of the woman. From what little I could make out from behind, she did look oddly familiar. Yet still, it was pretty strange to see another person out here this late at night. It''s usually just me, the sidewalks, and the crickets. Other than an occasional gathering in the neighborhood wherein the participants would celebrate and drink, it was always quiet. I wanted to speak up and ask her if she was okay, because she had a bizarre, slight stumble to her steps, and her breathing patterns were noticeably erratic, but I decided to just slow down and walk the same pace, hoping she wouldn''t notice me and turn a corner somewhere. We walked in the same direction for about five minutes. I don''t know why, but I started to feel slightly uneasy. Maybe it was just the principle of it; walking behind someone who could be a potential threat. We passed another block together when she suddenly and abruptly stops.


    Feeling unnerved, I stopped along with her, hoping she didn''t notice that I had been walking behind her. I maintained posture as she glanced over her shoulder, back, and started walking faster than she had been. A little unsettled, I sped up with her, slightly paranoid that maybe one of us was being followed. I started peeking over my own shoulder, but I did not catch anything unusual. About another block had passed, and ahead of me, the odd woman was glancing over her shoulder frantically, and eventually started to run. At this point I was very nervous, so I ran with her as quietly as I could, following at the same pace. I had intended to break away from her as I approached my home so that she didn''t think I was chasing her in case she did notice me. As we ran through the dark night, with sidewalks barely illuminated by the moonlight, I could begin to hear her breathing very clearly. She was not only breathing at a fast rate, but it sounded very raspy. Her breathing sounded similar to that of someone who was inhaling a thin atmosphere after being a lifelong smoker. That in itself was a very nerve-racking sound.


    We both continued running non-stop for a few minutes. My paranoia turns to a wave of fear as we approached within a block of my street.


    "Hey!" I shouted, "What are you running from? Are you okay?"


    I was met with no response. I kept crossing my fingers and praying under my breath that she would continue beyond my street, but my prayers met no answer, as she turns on to it and starts running towards my house. Consumed by fear, I screamed out at her, but she kept running. She didn''t even look fazed by it. I watched in horror while my heart started pounding and my stomach burned, as she opens my front door and shuts it behind her. I remember locking the door before I left. I keep a spare key, but it is lodged in a hole that my doormat has. No one could''ve known where it was, as I''ve never told anyone. I have never sprinted so fast in my life. Running into my front door, I turned the handle, but the door wouldn''t budge.


    "Hey," I yelled, pounding on the door, "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?!"


    Yet again, I was met with no response. Panicked, I dug through my pockets to locate my keys. Ripping them out, I sifted through them while my hands shook wildly until I found the house key and rammed it into the keyhole. The lock wouldn''t release. I let go of the key and took a few seconds to collect myself. I didn''t know what to think. Was I being robbed? Should I call the police? I wondered what to do as I attempted to calm myself down. There was no way I was going to be able to turn that key with my hands shaking like that. I didn''t remember seeing any weapons on her, and she was walking like she was drunk or something. I didn''t want to get the cops involved if I could avoid it. I''d made up my mind. I was going to burst in and try to overpower her. Slowly and gently clutching the key, I turned it and the lock released. I flung the door open so hard that I could''ve broken it off its hinges if I pushed with any more force. I wanted her to know that I meant business. I immediately started screaming for her to reveal herself. There was no response. I waited there, hoping to hear a bang, creak, or just any sound that would indicate her presence. There was nothing but the calm quiet of a dead night.


    "Did I leave the door unlocked?" I thought to myself, "How in the hell would she have gotten in otherwise?!"


    I knew what I saw was real. I jumped to the conclusion that she was either hiding from me, or she escaped out the back door. I needed to be sure. I slowly snuck into the kitchen, searching frantically for something bigger than a kitchen knife to use as a weapon. I have a .44 magnum, but I keep it tucked away in a dark corner of my basement, locked in a safe. I needed something, and I needed it now. After sifting through some old utility belt tools that I kept in a small cupboard underneath the sink, the baseball bat that my dad hit a record distance with was sitting on top of my refrigerator. I took hold of the handle, dragging it quietly off the top of the appliance. Taking an aggressive stance, I slowly walked through my dining room, panning around, leaving no stone unturned. It was completely silent. As I slowly approached the living room I started thinking that I could try to bribe her if she was still hiding from me.


    "Look," I yelled, "I''m a district manager for a large production company." Following the brief moment of silence, I then yelled, "If you show yourself right now, we''ll talk about me writing you a check."


    No response. She wasn''t in the living room, kitchen, or dining room. There was nothing but a dead silence since I walked into my house. I made my way towards the door to the basement. I opened the door to reveal a pitch black area of the house. There''s no way she could be hiding in there. My only other option was the bathrooms and bedrooms. I did complete, slow three hundred sixty degree rotations as I made my way towards the hallway, turning on every light in my path. I was extremely nervous. The hallways are very narrow. All she had to do was suddenly whip around from out of the entrance to a room and she would''ve had the advantage of surprise, as I had a little-to-no margin of escape should she swing at me with any weapon she might have been carrying. I knew what I saw was real from that point, as every door in my house had been opened. Visibly rattled and shaking in fear, I slowly made my way towards the closest room; the bathroom. Taking steps as quietly as I could, I approached within a few feet of the door frame. I shot out in front of it, taking an aggressive stance. Nothing was in there. Sparing not another second, I whipped around to check the other rooms as quietly as I could, listening for any indicative sounds of her presence. There was nothing. This was as scary as it was comforting, due to the fact that she couldn''t have had enough time while I was still outside to not only go through every room but do it in complete darkness. What''s worse, nothing in the house had moved an inch from where I had it since I left for work this morning, and nothing was missing. Who was she, then? What did she want? Taking no chances, I searched through the master bedroom, looking underneath of my bed, my closet, and even opening the bathroom cabinets. There was just no sign of her. I didn''t hear or see anything since I came inside. Paranoid, but relieved, I sat the bat next to the bathroom door and shut myself inside.


    One of the things that can be hard to get used to when living alone is the silence. It''s eerie at first, but as time passes by, we get used to it and come to enjoy it. This night was different. The silence inside my home after everything that happened was deafening. I needed to calm down. I looked in the mirror, then to the sink. Leaning over, I sat my hands on either side of the sink and stood there. Nothing made sense. I knew what I saw. Mind-boggled, I turned on the water and started rinsing my face, trying everything in my rational mind. The only thing that made a shred of sense to me was that I could have been hallucinating, due to the fact that I was running up to 32 hours with no sleep because of a large company project. I stood there in front of the running water with the bridge of my nose clutched between my thumb and forefinger and made every effort to convince myself that was the case, but it is difficult to think clearly while only functioning off of the fumes of two Monsters and an Espresso. That woman looked so real, and everything was too vivid. My watch started beeping as it read off as November 17th, 12:30 AM. At that point, I''d been rummaging through my house chasing a hallucination since I arrived an hour prior.


    I took off my jacket and hung it on the towel rack. I then started taking off my shirt, followed by the old, coffee-stained wife beater I was wearing, tossing them into the laundry basket I kept in the bathroom. I sighed, setting one hand on my hip while leaning my face down into the other and stroking my chin. I turned around towards the sink so that I could brush my teeth. I reached for my toothbrush and stopped cold in my tracks. A knot formed in my stomach. Sitting next to the bottle of toothpaste by the sink, was the very same shard of glass from a vehicle windshield that I threw away during my walk home. Before I had time to think, the dead silence was interrupted by a surge of electricity as the lights in the bathroom dimmed out for a brief second. Startled, I jumped back, staring at my reflection in the mirror, in a state of panic.


    "No, no no, no," I whispered to myself, grasping the bridge of my nose, shaking my head, "No no no no, you''re tired, Jack, you''re tired."


    Not wanting to believe what my irrational side was telling me, I stood there for a minute and tried to collect my thoughts. In a state of apprehension, the only thing I could think about was the date and time that my watch read. I was starting to panic. Realizing this, and that I didn''t believe in the paranormal, I caught hold of myself and started trying to normalize my breathing. Power surges happen quite frequently in this area of town. The circulation is pretty poor. Maybe I missed the trashcan and the shard fell out of my jacket as I flung it off. It was the only thing I could think up at that moment. I stood there for a few minutes with the quiet of my own mind, trying to calm down.


    My gut suddenly turns as an ugly truth hits me. I didn''t close my front door.


    "Shit!!" I yelled as I flung my bathroom door open.


    I ran out, turning out of my room racing down the hallway towards the entrance, where I turned the corner and froze at the sight that befell me. The door has not only been shut but latched and locked. I couldn''t rationalize how it was shut. I remembered accidentally leaving the door wide open. What''s worse, my front door has a very distinguishable, and loud creaking sound that can be heard throughout the small steading. Other than me shuffling through my things looking for a weapon and trying to bribe the woman I saw to get her to reveal her presence, there was only the ear piercingsilenceof a sleeping home. If it weren''t for the fact that I was aware of my limited functionality due to having no sleep, I would''ve been extremely rattled by this. I was, nevertheless, still very unnerved, and this did disturb me a little.


    Relieved, thinking that maybe I shut it on impulse, I walked through the dining room and made my way to the kitchen. I decided I was going to brew some coffee, stay up through one more night, and sleep during the next day. I was already afraid of the dark, and everything that had happened so far had me very shaken. I didn''t want to have any more scary experiences, and I was hoping the coffee would wake me up a little more. I opened my fridge and took a momentary scan for my coffee creamer when I heard a very faint clanking sound as if someone had gently set a piece of silverware on the bottom of the sink. I quickly dismissed it as something shifting in my refrigerator while I was moving the door. I shut it and made my way towards the coffee pot. I was going to make a pot that would kick me in the ass. I opened the cabinet above it, pulled out a bag of dark roast, and set it on the counter. I opened the dishwasher and took out the coffee mug that my ex-girlfriend, Allie, bought for me about a decade ago. Upon closing the dishwasher, I heard that same clanking sound again. This time it was a little louder. Nervous, I panned around my kitchen, listening for any more noises. Turning my head, and looking over my shoulder. There was nothing else, just that random clanking sound. I decided to just brush it off, as I was still convinced it could''ve just been something falling, or shifting in the fridge. I turned around towards my sink and immediately dropped the coffee mug on the floor, where it shattered. I started screaming.


    My sink, in and around the surrounding area, was covered in blood that was dripping from the counters to the floor. As I stood there in shock, crying out in terror, the kitchen lights started to dim out. In a state of unrelenting horror, I ran out from the kitchen and sprinted towards my front door, unlocked it, flung it open, and ran outside. I ran off the property on to the sidewalk and stood on edge, as I was hyperventilating. That was the most fear I''d ever felt in my life. There was no rationalizing this time. I turned around and my sink was suddenly drenched in blood. Not only that, it looked fresh as humanly possible and was dripping from the faucets, as well as slowly pouring out of the knobs. I spared not a second in calling the police and telling the operator what I''d just seen. After hearing my hyperventilating, they assured me that they would dispatch several officers to my location and have them search the property if I so requested, which I humbly and happily agreed to. I felt slightly relieved knowing that I would be in the protection of the police.


    Meanwhile, I stood there, shaking, and in shock from what I''d just witnessed. After only five minutes had passed, two patrol cars pulled up to my street, emerged from their vehicles. Before I knew it I was surrounded by four officers, and a police search dog. Their rapid arrival came about due to the fact that they believe there could be a killer in the house. They approached me and asked me to start from the beginning. After briefing them of everything that happened, three of them made their way towards the house, while one of them remained here to accompany me. I didn''t want to inform them of how tired I was because I didn''t want to lose credibility. What I saw felt too real to be a hallucination. I''ve lived here for six years and despite feeling uneasy at times, I''ve never once experienced anything out of the ordinary. Not a creak in the wood, a tap in the dark, or a whisper in the shadows. It''s always been peaceful. That night, everything was different, and for the first time in all these years, I was afraid to sleep in my own home. The officer that remained outside attempted to comfort me.


    "I understand that you''re scared right now, and believe me when I tell you, these boys are gonna find whoever''s in there." She reassured, "As for you, I want you to sit down and try to collect yourself. Can you do that for me?"


    "Yes officer, thank you so much." I said.


    I sat there on the curb trying to avoid thinking about it. Although, I couldn''t help but feel this nagging, gut-wrenching feeling. Everything that had happened so far didn''t make any reasonable sense. I''m sure I could explain away the glass, and the lights dimming, but turning around and seeing that my sink was covered in blood, seemingly out of nowhere, while the lights conveniently dimmed again, made not a shred of sense to me. All I knew was that it is a kind of thing you''d expect to see in a movie featuring a poltergeist haunting, and seeing it in front of my very face was the most horrifying thing I''d ever experienced. I turned my head as the female officer calls out to the other officers, who were then moving out from the house, along with the dog, empty-handed. I stood up to greet them, with low spirits oozing from my face.


    "Alright, so here''s what happened. We went in there, turned up every stone in the house, looked in every corner, and even searched the basement. We didn''t find anybody."


    "Mhm, and what''s more, we did see the shattered cup on the floor in the kitchen, but there wasn''t any blood in the sink or shard of glass in the bathroom." The other officer intervened.


    I was shocked. There was no way I was hallucinating all of that. It felt far too real. All I could do was stare into their expressionless faces.


    "Sir, have you had anything to drink tonight?" The female officer asked.


    "Uh- no, ma''am." I managed, looking towards her, "Well- I mean I did- I guess I did have an Irish coffee, but it- it I mean, it was a very small glass." I panned all of them, "I''m telling you, I''m not drunk. Isa- I saw it! The woman, the- light."


    "Whoa, whoa, slow down. You saw a woman?" The female officer intervened.


    "Yes! I-" I stopped, realizing that I''d lost quite a bit of credibility by telling them that I had an Irish Coffee, "You know- just forget it. Thanks, guys."


    Before I had time to think of what else to say, the officer farthest to my right, standing next to the search dog, spoke.


    "It''s alright, you''re not in trouble, sir. There is, however, something you should know." He said.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    I whipped my head towards him, feeling a knot in my stomach.


    "And what is that?" I gulped out.


    "Our department policy forbids us from using superstition as evidence, so I can''t put this on the record, but I''d like to give you some personal advice." He said as he knelt down to pat, and pet the dog, "Myself, I don''t typically tend to believe in anything paranormal. I''m able to explain away most things I hear in my house. But sir, our dog absolutely would not go into your home." He included shaking his head.


    This sent a wave of fear through my upper-body, as my eyes widened in anguish.


    "That is very unusual behavior for a search dog." His face looking equally as disturbing as mine, "We''d strongly advise that you rented a room somewhere for a few nights and possibly see about calling in a team or getting the house blessed." The other officer intervened while looking at me.


    I couldn''t believe what I heard. It didn''t make sense to me. What happened? Why does it all have to happen on this day, of all days? Six years without a bump in the night and then suddenly I''m afraid to go into my own house. Nevertheless, I couldn''t let fear get the better of me. I was going to be sleeping in this house whether I liked it or not. I didn''t have the money to spare to rent a hotel room somewhere, as I made a very bad gambling decision which drained my wallet of 2 months worth of pay.


    "I''d also personally recommend that you use a little bit of caution tonight. Try to stay away from anything that might cause anxiety, because that can make you very paranoid and irrational." Said the officer next to the dog.


    "Alright, well thanks, guys." I said, scratching my chin, "At least I know there''s no one in there. I''m just gonna go in and try to sleep. I lost all my money because of a bad gambling decision recently. I can''t afford a hotel. Thank you for the advice, though." I finished.


    I shook their hands and parted ways, heading back up towards my home. This entire night had been one that I''d like to get away from, and just try to forget about. I was calm enough at that point to not feel nervous about going back into the house. The search dog''s behavior rattled my nerves a little, but I''ve heard stories about similar behavior from dogs that were just tired and overworked. I tried not to put too much thought into it. Closing and locking the door, I flipped on the light at the entrance. I looked down at my watch, which read the time as 1:15. Deciding to just forego the coffee and get some sleep, I flipped the light off and turned the corner through the dining room, into the kitchen. To my surprise, the kitchen was spotless, and there was no sign of any blood on, in, or near the sink. When I stared down at the broken shards of the mug, I felt a rush of sorrow. That mug was one of the few things from myex-girlfriend, Allie, that I held on to for this long, and for all this time I drank from it every morning, religiously. I knew, at that point that I would have to clean up the shards and throw them away. For some reason, though, I suddenly couldn''t stop thinking about her. The old memories that had been buried in my mind over the years seemed to re-surface.


    Allie was a beautiful Vietnamese/American girl with long, black hair. She was happy-go-lucky and very kind. She was also a gym goer and was very passionate about bodybuilding. She had physical prowess and the body of a fitness model. One would think she would''ve had the snotty, conceited attitude of one, yet she was always so innocent and humble, and despite her unrivaled beauty, she was the sweetest, most encouraging woman a man could hope to meet. Some days I still catch myself lying awake in bed at night thinking about her. As I stood there staring at the broken shards of the cup, I started to feel that something was seriously off. The vibe in the house seemed to have shifted as I was staring at it, laying there on my kitchen floor, in pieces. It no longer felt like my humble, cozy sanctuary. That nagging feeling that someone was watching me, that phobia. ¡­ All these years, could it have been?


    I caught myself overthinking and quickly threw my head into a state of denial. I thought to myself that I should just go into my closet, grab my broom, and clean up the shards. I was sure that a good, long sleep afterward would take my mind off the anxiety and refresh me. I turned the corner, and headed down the hallway towards the closet I kept all the cleaning materials in. I decided that I would feel more comfortable if I left the lights in the house on overnight. The surge in the billing would be a small price to pay for the alleviation of the overall discomfort that I felt all throughout the night. I was walking down the hallway, and before I could take another step towards my utility closet, I heard a faint voice whisper something that I picked up very clearly, sending shivers down my spine.


    "Jack-Attack¡­" The voice whispered.


    As a wave of pure anguish and terror burned through my stomach, I whipped around as fast as I could, panning the immediate area.


    "Hello?!" I yelled just after I turned around, dreading a response.


    There was nothing. No reply, no bump in the night, not a creak in the wood to accompany the disembodied voice I had heard. I immediately fell back into the door to the closet, cupping my hands over my face. All I could do was stand there, immobile, in pure disbelief. I couldn''t believe what I had just heard, nor could I deny what the voice said. That was the nickname given to me by Allie, shortly after we went to Senior high together. Nobody, not even her greatest friends knew about it. She only referred to me as such during playful exchanges. I stood there against the closet door, shaken, as the memories of my recovery from Allie, and the experience itself recollected in my head almost seemingly against my will. It''s been exactly eight years since she passed awayonthe driver''s side of amid-sizedToyota Camry that her mother was using to teach her to drive. She was only eighteen years old. On the night of November 16th, 2017, Allie and her mother set off on the freeway to a city wherein her distant relatives usually met up to celebrate birthdays. This was the first time Allie had driven on the freeway, and as to be expected, she was nervous. About four hours into the drive, at exactly November 17th, 12:20 AM, she pulled up next to what would soon be the means of a horrific fate.


    A large semi, of which the driver was visibly acting strange, almost as if he was yelling at someone over the phone. With it being dark, she didn''t notice the odd behavior of the driver. After about two minutes driving side by side, the semi veered off heavily to the right, slamming into the Camry and dragging it off the roadwhere after about four hundred feet, it comes to an abrupt stop and flips over. It landed directly on top of the mid-sized sedan, crushing it. Allie''s mother died upon initial impact of the semi. The lower half of Allie''s body was almost completely crushed, and her neck had been broken. The autopsy report on Alice Kingman, however, revealed that it was not her neck breaking that killed her, but that it, in fact,took eight minutes for her to die. This placed the time of her death at exactly 12:30 AM. Allie, the love of my life, pinned, and almost completely motionless in the remains of the car, was not lucky enough to die immediately after the conclusion of the crash. Instead, she laid there helplessly next to her dead mother while she slowly suffocated under the force of the pressure placed on her chest.


    Despite all of this, however, she was miraculously able to launch her phone with a voice command, and she managed to send me atwenty-secondvoice message containing her final words to me. Due to a temporary service interruption on my cell phone because of acarriercrisis, I did not get her message until two weeks after the accident. The day I heard the message for the first time, would be the day that lingered in my head for so many years. The horrific terror, swollen throat, and sheer,heartbroken agonythat befell me after the conclusion of the message would haunt me, and change me forever. The bloody, gurgling coughing, the bawling, and agonized screaming with every short breath she could muster, and the final time that I heard her tell me that she loved me, would ring in my head like a throbbing tinnitus for years. The fact that I went so long without knowing of her fate, or paying attention to that story on the news about a random car accident, would bring about a boiling,deep-seatedhatred of myself that could be suppressed, but never trulygottenrid of. I would soon fall into a deep depression, knowing that the girl I shared all those memorieswith and loved with everything I had, was gone. Stolen from me, stolen from the world so cruelly. I''ve since moved out of my parent''s house, dropping out of high school to get my GED, and attending a community college to get my associate''s. I''ve lived alone ever since. It took me four years to be able to delete her from mycontacts and to delete the conversation that contained the message.


    Snapping out of what seemed like a trance-like state, I spared not a second in quickly running towards my bedroom and slamming the door behind me, flipping the lights to both the master bathroom and room, on. In denial and shock, I then crawled into my bed trying to force myself to believe that I was just hallucinating after remembering for the first time in a long time, a number of the memories I had forgotten. I did not want to believe what my gut was telling me, which was that everything that had happened was no random occurrence, that it was not indeed a coincidence that it''s this day, of all days. I laid there sprawled out underneath the thick comforter with my face covered. Thoughts started racing through my head. I remembered the horrifying,life-changingexperience of the agony of her fate. Even found myself starting to experience some residual heartache, the pain that I thought had been buried under mydeep-seatedself-hatred and all the time that passed. The way she was taken was so horrible, so sudden, so unexpected, and so unfair. Unfair to her, to her family, to me, and to the world of which she was a great lossto. I wiped my hand across my forehead to notice that I was sweating almost profusely. I couldn''t bring myself to uncover my face and turn on the ceiling fan. I had decided at that point to just hide under my comforter motionless until I fell asleep.


    I must''ve laid there for about thirty minutes. It was thirty minutes of a silent home buta headtortured by the compulsive reminiscing of the memories I shared with her. I snapped to attention and shut out the thoughts, taking out my phone from my pocket. Staring at the screen from under my blanket, I saw that it had been more than thirty minutes. It was now 3:00 AM.


    "Was I dreaming?" I thought to myself, visibly shaken.


    I powered the screen off and crammed the phone into my pocket. I laid there in a groggy daze, with the blanket draped over my head, in the same position I was in during my dream, disturbed by what Ihaddreamt. I was trying to keep myself awake long enough to calm down from the dream. I jumped a littleasthe silence of the room was broken by a notification on my phone, as it vibrated in my pocket.


    "Who''s texting me at three in the morning?" I thought to myself as I withdrew it from my pocket.


    Staring at the notification, I started to feel uneasy. It was atwenty-secondvoice message from a number with the same area code. I unlocked my phone, opening the message. I gulped and my stomach buckled a little as I worked up the courage to push the play button. Once I managed to push the play button, a brief moment of silence followed while the message loaded. Suddenly, a wave of shooting horror, and dreadrushthrough me, as the voice I hear in this message is Allie''s. It''s the same message from her that arrived in my phone two weeks after she died.


    "Jack!" My heart sinks, "My mom''s dead." She struggled, voice horribly shaken, "We were hit by- a semi." Violently gaspingforair, "I can''t- breath." She groaned, immediately bursting into hysterical crying, "I''m gonna die Jack. I''m sorry!" She screamed, mustering what little air she could, "I''m so sorry!" She coughed, starting to choke on her blood, "I lo- I love you- Jack!" After a brief period of choking and coughing, "Just- pull the trigger. It''ll beov- over soon." The message stops.


    I laid there, my phone firmly clasped in my hands, while shaking in burning apprehension. I thought to myself that somebody had to have been trying to scare me. I couldn''t offer anything else to myself to explain this. Visibly rattled, I pressed the back arrow, returning to the inbox to find that the number had saved itself to my phone as ¡®Allie.'' I immediately threw my phonetothe end of my bed, laying there under my blanket while my eyes opened painfully wide and I clutched my mouth with both hands, shaking, and breathing heavily.


    "What the fuck?!" I quietly whined to myself.


    I then jumped, as a massive surge of electricity burned out every light in the room. I could no longer see under my thick comforter. Not another second passed as the silence was once again interrupted. I could suddenlyhearwhat sounded like raspy, erratic breathing, accompanied by god-awful faint groaning. My gut froze cold. A wave of grueling anxiety rushes through me. In a panic, I sat up and ripped the blanket off my head, where I then flinched, gasping in sheer horror at the sight of the woman that I saw running into my house earlier, now standing at the foot of my bed. The faint glare of the fading moonlight shining through the window only illuminated the lower half of her body. I immediately began hyperventilating.


    I closed myeyes and started countingbackwardfrom five hoping she would disappear, opening them after a few seconds to the blood churning sight of her sprawled out on her hands and knees at the foot of my bed, crawling towards me with her head down. I backed up as far as I could into my headboard, while she kept crawling at inhuman speeds until the top of her head was right in front of my face. She stopped. I couldn''t move. Her arms and legs were on either side of my body. She was directly on top of me, with her face downonmy chest. I was frozen cold in the midst of a panic attack. The only thing I could do was stare at the top of her head, adorned with hair as black as a void. Allie enjoyed dying her hair to the deepest shade of black she could find. At this point, as much as I wanted to all night, I couldn''t deny it anymore. The shard of glass from a car, the power surge, the blood in my kitchen sink, the search dog refusing to go inside, the voice message sending to me again, the number saving itself into my contacts, and that woman. It all came to me in a split second. The way that woman was walking. ¡­ Allie''s legs had been almost completely crushed. The way she was breathing. ... Allie suffocated under the immense weight pressed on her chest, and her lungs were stabbed by her broken ribcage.


    "Allie?" I croaked, shaking violently with my stomach burning in fear.


    My eyes widen and I begin flinching as she slowly picks her head up in front of my face. The ungodly crunching sounds originating from her neck, which had been broken upon impact before she was crushed, filled the room as her face slowly came into view. I began whimpering, frozen in terror, and shocked to pure disbelief as I see the same face that I fell in love with 11 years ago, pale, and drenched in blood, the entirety of which had large, open gashes that were bleeding immensely. The remains of the face that was violently and horrifically torn from me, 8 years ago. The blood on her face and body seemedfresh and was dripping from her jaw, on to my blanket, and her horrific, strained, tortured breathing filled my ears. As I stared into her cold, lifeless eyes, the indescribable fear slowly turned into agonizing distress. Not long after, I started sobbing. I slowly moved my hand up herblood-soakedarm, and towards her head, where I proceeded to place it on the grueling, bumpy, bloody surface of the back of her neck, while she maintained a dead stare into my eyes. There could be no further feelings of denial, for it was now right in front of me. The ghost of Alice Kingman, my dearex-girlfriend, had been haunting me all night, and at the climax of my suffering, there she was, sprawled out on top of me. I could touch her. I could feel her cold, bloody flesh, and the weight of her legs on either side of my thighs. I could not only hear the torturedbreathing but feel it on my face.


    As my hand rested on her neck, and the tears strolled down my face, I began to feel dreadful sorrow, and a deep sense of agony. A type of agony that I had long since forgotten. The agony of a broken heart. I remembered thinking to myself all those years ago that she was gone, and that I would never see her again no matter how much I wanted to. No matter how much I begged the angels, no matter how much I pleaded and screamed out her name in intense sorrow for an end to my suffering. I remembered sitting up in my bed crying, while Iarosein the morning to find that I haven''t moved. My suffering went on and on for months,toyears. It was at this moment in time, the moment that her long dead, tortured spirit was right in front of me, that I realized I had never truly been able toerase or get over the pain. I only distracted myself to the point where I buried it, and eventually forgot.


    "I love you,Allie," I said, as my voice continued to shatter, and my face soakedwithmy own tears.


    As the burning sensation of heartbreak filled my chest, I placed my opposite hand on the back of her cold head, and moved into her, pulling her into me as her neck crunched and snapped. The sensation of her strained, tortured breath rushed against my ear as she groaned in agony.


    "I''m so sorry, Allie." I whispered, sobbing into her ear as I sat up in my bed with her cold, live ghost bleeding all over me, "I never got a chance to say good-bye." I quietly sobbed in her ear.


    A wave of shock rushes through me as I feel her cold hands slowly move up my back, and her grip tightens. Her neck then crunches again as she lowered her chin to mycollarbone. I started crying hysterically as I remembered that this was the same way she held me after I rose out of bed in our hotel room, a day before she was killed. I was now the same heartbroken, inconsolable Jack that I was all those years ago.


    "Please, Allie, don''t let me go," I bawled, "I miss you so much!" My hysterical crying now filling the room, "Come back, Allie! Come back!" I sobbed.


    No words could begin to describe my torture this night. It was the same heartbreak that I felt all those years ago, but it was all that much worse to me, knowing that she wasn''t reallyhere and that I was embracing a cold, bloody, long dead ghost; only a memory, a fragment of what was left behind eight years ago. A stabbing, crippling depression fills my heart once again as I sat there in her embrace, almost wishing that I could spend the rest of eternity in it, frozen in time, while she breathed her raspy, pained breath into my ear.


    "Allie," I sobbed into her ear, "I would give anything to be with you again!" I cried out as she began to pull away from me.


    The horrific sound of her neck crunching and snapping filled the room again as she backed out of my embrace and her head turned up so that her cold, clouded eyes could gaze me in the face once more. I could only blink one more time before my eyes opened to find that she was no longer there. Istaredoff into the space that she was occupying, only to see that it wasempty and that the silence was restored as I could no longer hear her strained, raspy breathing. Still sobbing, I looked down at my hands and blanket to find that there was not a trace of blood on them.


    "No," I whispered out loud, bawling in disbelief.


    For the first time throughout all of that night that seemed more like a nightmare, I didn''t want to believe that I was only hallucinating. My heart was beating, my chest strained, and my throat was swollen. The pain in my heart right then was very real, and to my sheer agony, I felt like she had left me once again.


    It has now been two weeks since that night. Theeight-yearanniversary of the day I found out that she was gone. Every night since had been spent in tears as I cried myself to sleep, hoping that I would hear, or see her again. The silence was unbearable. Every night, I cried out her name only to be met with an ear piercing silence. I couldn''t take it anymore.


    As I shut the front door to my home after getting back from work, I flipped the light to the hallway on. I dropped my jacket on the antique chair that sat in the hallway corner near the front door. I made my way over to the dining room, where I passed through it, into the kitchen. I stared at my coffee brewer to see that the time read offat11:34 PM. When I turned my eyes towards the sink, I froze at the sight of my old revolver that I kept in the basement, sitting in it. While unnerved, I was completely puzzled. I didn''t hear anything and every light in the house was turned off when I walked inside.


    I reached into the sink, placing my hand on the gun and withdrawing it, at the nerve-rattling sight that it was completely loaded with bullets. I collapsed to the floor and pressed myself up against the cabinets beneath the sink. It wasn''t long before I once again found myself desperately fighting back tears, as I drew my legs in against my chest, hugging them with the gun in my right hand. I instantly thought about the last thing that Allie said in that voice message. The words buzzed in my ears. All this time I thought that she was just starting to get delusional, as she was near death. As those words repeated in my head over and over, I burst, once again, into hysterical sobbing. I finally understood what she meant.