“You weren’t suppose to leave!” the boy’s voice echoed through the cold, empty house. Traveling up the stairs and bounced off the walls of the living room and kitchen then making its way back into his bedroom to disappear quickly. A single lamp illuminated the center of the hardwood floor where the boy sat, wrapped in blankets stripped from his bed. Resting in his left hand was a small kitchen knife whose grooves fit his grip perfectly and a blade that reflected the lamp’s light onto a small, wallet-size picture of a teenage girl. She was smiling beneath the messy red tresses that were strewn over her face and her dark green eyes sparkled with happiness. The top of a black tank was caught in the picture and a hand cupped her right cheek; around her neck laid a silver chain that held a black rose at the end of it which fell just below the meeting of her collar bones.

The boy used his free hand to lift the picture closer to him and he stared longingly at the girl, his eyes brimming with the awaited tears. His thumb ran over her face a couple of times, knowing that he would never be able to feel her soft skin again nor hear her boisterous laughter when someone cracked a joke. He’d never soak in the beauty of her face or ever feel her soft lips on his once more. Tears escaped and streamed down his cheeks, running over his parted lips as he whispered the same phrase again.

“I love you so much,” he murmured in between his sobs and set the picture on the ground in front of him, and brought the hand back and revealed his wrist. “I can’t live without you.”

The boy brought the tip of the blade to the bottom of his palm, right on the visible vein that ran down his wrist and through his arm. He held the knife there, and stared at the picture of his beloved, blinking away the tears that tried to blur her face. With a single, swift movement, the boy sliced his wrist vertically down his arm as deep as he could until the pain caused him to drop the knife. The blood-stained blade dropped near the picture and his hands shook violently as he picked up the picture once more. Blood trailed down his arm from the large gash and down his hand that held the picture, tainting the bottom of it red. The boy could feel himself becoming light headed and refused to let the picture leave his gaze; he knew he had slice the vein perfect and waited until for his body to be relieved of enough blood to slow his heart.

With his vision blurring quickly, the boy saw a pale hand reach for his shuddering arm. The hand held his own in its palm, removed the picture and set it aside. “No!” he tried to yell but heard it only as a loud whisper. He jerked his head up to look straight into dark, green eyes; eyes that he knew all too well. A knot rose in the boy’s throat refusing to allow him to speak as his eyes scanned the red tresses that were falling in the person’s face, he watched as a tear run down their cheeks. Suddenly, he noticed an icy feeling upon his arm and forced himself to look downwards; a second hand was running a finger down the gash in his arm slowly and the boy watched his arm close and the vein sew itself together. When the hand finished, his arm was just as it were five minutes ago; no blood, gash or cut vein, he could thinking more clearly and his vision returned perfectly. The boy looked back into the green eyes and raised his hand to his beloved’s face and went right through her.

“Rayne,” his voice cracked when she jerked back as if he had shocked her, and the cold feeling on his arm disappeared. “I can’t—-,” he couldn’t say it. He didn’t wish to believe that she wasn’t real, that his love was still dead.

Tears streaked the ghost’s face as she fell to her knees in front of him and smiled through her sadness. She outstretched her hand and ran her fingers along his cheeks but all he could feel was a soft, cold touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the ghost. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, couldn’t save you!” She shook her head and placed a pale finger upon his lips, signally him to hush. Her hand returned to his cheek and she scooted closer to him where her face was only inches from his.

The boy sniffed back tears and stared into her eyes longingly, “I want to be with you.” Rayne smiled yet shook her head sadly. “I need you, please!” She shook her head again as more tears rolled down her face. Her hand retracted from his face and she ran it through her hair, pushing it out of her face. She blinked a few times and stared back at him and leaned in to kiss him.

He closed his eyes wanting to feel her lips, he wanted to taste her one more time when suddenly, the cold sensation reverse and altered into a warm touch, a real touch. He kissed her back more this time, realizing that he could taste her and deepened the kiss to her liking. His hand moved forward to pull her closer to him and he found that he could. His arms encircled the girl and he felt the blankets shift from her knees as he held her as tightly as possible. He felt her hands trail upwards along his chest and wrapped around his neck and he took a deep breath, not daring to break the kiss to ensure that this was all real. One of his hands dropped from her back and found her side, and he ran it across her stomach when the warm feeling of her body disappeared and the boy fell right through as his hand had done earlier. “No!” he screamed, listening to his voice echo once more through the house.

The boy sat up straight and turned around to see Rayne resting on his bed, tears falling severely down her face. He stood from the bare floor and took a step towards her when she stood also causing him to stop. She lessened the space between them and leaned up to where her lips were next to his ear, and he closed his eyes wishing to feel her breath, but instead, he heard her voice, “You need to live. I’ll love you always.”

The boy swallowed the tears as she stepped back, staring him in the eyes, smiling. She vanished, just like that, smiling broadly as if it were to end his pain. And it did.