I shook my head at the trophy as its two broken halves lay atop of the cell phone, all items covered in various sized droplets of splattered blood. The existing pool of crimson liquid melded with the blood that trickled from the top of Nolan's head. His thick, dark hair hid the resemblance between his cracked skull and the split trophy.

Rhea lay motionless in the puddle, her breathing slow and steady. The entire space looked more like a scene out of a massacre than a studio or apartment. The white tiled floors contrasted the deep red that spattered and gathered across it.

Out of nowhere, the dim light of the space quickly faded, leaving me in utter darkness. "Wait, no. I don't wanna leave. Not now." I turned, examining my surroundings, trying to get my bearings although I had no control. "I need to stay with her. She needs my help." Of course, my wishes went unanswered as the misty fog rushed in to cloak me in blackness.

Frustrated, confused, and exhausted, I walked in what felt like circles, going everywhere but getting nowhere. It wasn't until I stopped moving that a distant voice slowly became distinct.

The sounds of a young child speaking and laughing pulled me in, and before I knew it, I found myself approaching the ghost of Nolan from behind while he watched a wholesome scene play out before us. As a silent witness, I stopped and tried to put together the scene in front of me.

A little boy sat alone on the rug in a cozy room. He wrapped a baby doll in his arms, rocking it back and forth as he recited, "I'll protect you from all the bad people, especially momma and dadda. You'll be my friend forever."

The bright brown hair on the little boy's head matched the hair on the doll, and they both reminded me of Nolan. Were we enamored by a scene from his childhood?

The door to the room opened with a steady creak that only an old wooden door would make and immediately the little boy hid the doll behind his back. Even from this angle, it was obvious the doll wasn't well hidden.

"Who gave you that?" A mature female voice growled. "Winston," she called from over her shoulder. "You better come get a look at this?"

The name Winston Hudson belonged to Nolan's father. And even though every fiber in my being told me to find the other Rhea and help her get medical attention before our efforts were lost, curiosity compelled me to stay and watch. I needed to know what would happen and what it will lead to. There had to be a reason why I was a witness to this moment.

Winston approached the doorway, heavy boots clunk, clunk on the tired wooden floor with every step. I had never met him personally, but even the sounds of his footsteps were as menacing as Nolan described. He appeared in the doorway like a towering giant compared to everything else in the room. "Get rid of that damn doll, Nolan. That toy is a sign of weakness and no boy of mine will be seen as weak."

The lights shut off, casting me and ghost Nolan in darkness again. Like a flash, they immediately came back on to highlight a worn wooden dinner table in a cozy dining room. Three empty plates sat on round wicker place mats atop the table with carved notches and grimy scratch marks in its wood.

Still, Nolan stood before me, taking in the sights. He hadn't moved or turned to look over his shoulder since the scenes manifested before our eyes. I focused on the back of his head and knew he was either too enthralled or didn't care much to turn around and look at me.

Still, he stared at the scene as if he were compelled to. Even from my perspective, his face resembled him at his finest; clean shaven, neatly groomed, lightly sun kissed skin. Gone were the bloody forearms, the protruding eyebrow bone, and the sunken empty eye sockets.

The dinner table quickly filled up with food of all kinds, as if time sped up before our eyes. In the dining chairs appeared Winston with less of a hairline than in the scene before, his mother Clair who kept her fingers pressed to her temple, and a young Nolan in what looked like his teen years.

Nolan's facial hair hadn't grown in yet, and although his clothes were neat and clean, his long hair sat on his shoulders greasy and unkempt. He rolled a sweet pee on his plate, pushing it away with his fork only for it to roll back into the center of the dish. His ghostly version laughed while observing, just as he did at the dinner table, amused with playing with his food.

I kept silent, not wanting to bring attention to myself, but waiting to see if I'd learn anything new that could help me help Rhea.

His mother rubbed her temple in annoyance. "I've the bloodiest migraine all morning. Please, Nolan, be quiet."

"You heard your mother," Winston casually pointed his butter knife toward Nolan from across the table as he spoke. "Quiet at the dinner table. That means no snickering under your breath either."

The lights went out again, and I anticipated seeing him as an adult, but when the lights came back on the scene had changed to our first meeting at the coffee shop. Again, the lights flickered off and came back on to illuminate he and I making love on the kitchen counter after baking his favorite birthday cake, red velvet. I remember the evening being full of laughter as I continually teased him for refusing to confirm his age. The lights went out and shined again on the scene of us celebrating my first huge online sponsorship. The smiles on our faces were everything, too bad they would no longer light up any rooms.

The light went on and off again like a strobe light, highlighting different parts of our life together. It lit up all the laughter, bliss, and celebrations we shared. It quickly showcased all the good times that had kept me from leaving him earlier, holding on in the hopes of rekindling those special moments. As the lights continued to flicker on and off, Nolan grew uninterested and turned to face me instead.

The quick moving succession of our happy times continued like a projection on a screen, and as the lights flickered, Nolan slowly approached. I back up to keep distance between us, but as soon as the lights came back on, he was closer.

"What do you want?" I called out.

"You remember these moments?" Suddenly he was behind me, arms snaking around my waist. "This was us, happy, content, in love. Remember?"

Familiarity hit me when his strong arms embraced my body, still I pushed them away but he remained close. "I'm not scared of you."

"I don't want you to be." His lips caressed my ear. "All I want is for you to remember."

The lights stayed on, blaring a spotlight on a scene of us in his apartment shower. The sound of the steaming water beating our skin satisfied my senses. Looking through the glass at our naked bodies that fit together perfectly placed a weight on my heart. Pleasure filled moans escaped our lips and the sound of bliss mixed with the sound of running water and exited the shower walls to enter the space around us.

"What is this?" I shook my head at the wonderful memory, trying to keep it's temptation from affecting me.

"This is love." His whisper stroked my earlobe and I shuttered against my will. "This is a review of all that made me who I am in my life. And you're a huge part of that. Can't you see?"

"But..."

His warm hands snaked around my torso from behind, mimicking the way he held me in the shower. "Everything that's happening outside of this space cannot be changed. You're fighting a losing battle and I want to save you from the grief."

"You hurt me, Nolan." I shook my head. "You took my life in more ways than one."

"You're only hurting yourself trying to change the enviable." His hands were warm and comforting, luring me into the contentment I craved for so long.

The scene beneath the spotlight continued to change with every flicker. But now horrid and gruesome images of Nolan in various states of self-inflicted harm presented themselves. Flashes of bloodied forearms, oozing wrists, taught ropes with nooses, and the grizzly aftermath of unblinking bloodshot eyes, a mouth of pink foam, and an empty pill bottle.

"What is—" A gentle hand with delicate slender fingers caressed my chin, directing my sights from the horrid scene and into ocean blue eyes.

"That's proof that us being here together is meant to be. Fate." He smiled, emphasizing the deep dimples on his cheeks that I loved so much. "This will go on eternally until you accept it, like I had. And is being here together, making love and collapsing in each other's arms, so bad?"

"It feels ... good." I whispered and lay my head against his muscled chest. The comfort and pleasure drew me in with its familiarity. I wanted what we used to have. I wanted the laughter, the dimples, the warm embraces, the security.

"I love you, Rhea." Nolan ran his fingers through my hair. Not even the stickiness of my head wound stopped him from playing with the strands as he would after a night of ecstasy. "From now on, everything will be peachy. I promise."

"Peachy cobbler—" I paused and pressed my ear to his chest. The silence took me aback. "I don't hear your heartbeat."

"Heartbeats don't matter here." He continued caressing.

From somewhere deep in the blackness, the machine's beeping came through. Its rhythm matched the beat of my heart, which I could hear and feel pumping away in my chest. "You're wrong." I stepped back to separate our bodies, seeing the intense blue fade to black in Nolan's eyes.

"There's only this. This is all we have here. Each other." With each word that exited his lips, more of his dark, ghastly appearance began to reveal itself. His brow ridge slowly grew, causing his eyes and cheeks to sink in even more.

"If that's true, where is my life review?" I shook my head in disbelief, backing away ever so subtly. "You have your review because it's too late for you."

"You're confused." He shook his head, bringing attention to his matted and grimy strands of hair.

"You probably rewatch that review every time you die."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"You died, Nolan. In every reiteration, no matter what changes, you die. But me? I'm still alive and I plan on keeping it that way."

He scoffed and glared as his forearms bled causing threads of blood to drip from his fingertips. "Not if I have any say over it."

~~~

Will phantom Rhea ever find a way to get help for the other Rhea?

What are your thoughts, feedback, or suggestions?