I finger the spine of the book in my pocket and think about the three names on that last page. Soon, I'll get to have one more blank page. I try to set small goals. Tonight, if all goes well, one name will leave the book—and my soul. The name that glowed earlier wasn't Lucille's name. No, she is on Ray's conscience, but freeing her will wipe one of my own sins from my soul.

That's how the book works. To clear a name, I must free one who lingers, one already dead. I filled the book by taking lives without thought. Maybe, if I'd known back then that each death attributed to me would add a weight of guilt to my soul, I would have acted differently.

I doubt it though. I've never been good at thinking ahead.

We all dig our own graves and build our purgatories brick by brick.

I'm just lucky enough that my purgatory found me on earth. Who knows, I'll probably have another hell to live through in the afterlife. My best hope is that there is no afterlife... but it's hard for someone who hunts ghosts to bite on that one.

At least I understood. Poor Lucille never had a choice, and she had no way of comprehending the prison she'd entered.

Light cascades over the ledge from the tavern and I hunker down, shoving the book back into my pocket. Without glancing over to see if the door had opened to Ray, I tense. This is the moment. I know because Lucille knows.

I peek over to see Ray emerge. To my surprise the barkeep is silhouetted behind Ray in the doorway—his shoulders slumped.

Ray stumbles toward Lucille. Now is not the time to think about the guy serving drinks.

Lucille's energies are frenetic, and images of the rocks below the cliff flash in front of my eyes. Again and again I see the gray stone jutting out as I plummet toward them. Then her rapid fire energies focus on the living Ray, and I watch with her as he approaches. As he nears, his pace picks up, and he licks his lips with what I must assume is excitement. He's red faced with booze but he puffs his chest up, as if with pride.

This part is the hardest part—always. I shudder, anticipating the agony of death and the swirl of lament. Yet as Ray reaches Lucille, I don't hesitate. It's far worse to ignore the call of the book. I'd brave the bone crunching, organ squishing crash of Lucille's death a hundred times before risking the book's wrath.

I lunge out into the open, striding over to come even with Lucille and Ray.

She swirls and riots. My flesh rips as she crawls inside. If I'd been technically alive, it would never work—but I am in between, tethered with a rope of names. So Lucille inhabits my flesh and makes it her own.

And I am trapped in the cage of blood, bone and sinew.

Hatred, love, and betrayal swirl with something that stings even more in a ghost—the remembrance of hope and the aching, yawning lack where it once sat.

But Lucille's hope doesn't wear Ray's face. It sports the countenance of the barkeep. He's younger but undeniably the same man.

"Daddy," Lucille addresses Ray, her voice dripping like a gooey sludge from my lips.

Her heart beats within mine, a rapid flutter and with this joining, a veil of time lifts and I see the day she died through her eyes, without the random leaps and jumps of a ghost's obsessive memory.

That night just over fifteen years before, Lucille walked to the edge of the cliff, twisting her hands nervously. Ray's footsteps thudded behind her. Every night that week, as every night of her life, minus those which contained major storms, she had walked the path from their home to the outlook.

But this week was different.

Lucille patted the side of her purse where her engagement ring waited. For two months she'd hidden it from her father, but that option was going away. The problem was, how to tell him without upsetting him.

Ray feared losing Lucille like he lost her mother and because Lucille knew this, she did her best to be forgiving. The problem was finding a way to show him that her getting married didn't mean she would disappear. She'd always love him, always be here. She'd never leave—not really.

"We need to talk about Alec," she said, wrapping her hands around a wind twisted tree on the edge of the cliff. The fence drooped behind her, beaten into awkward angles by the constant onslaught of wind. They always walked out past it, but that night her gut clenched, looking past her toes at the crashing waves. Lucille pushed the fear aside as silly. "I love him, Daddy."

"I don't trust the boy," Ray said. "Something fishy about 'im. A rich city kid don't belong out here with us simple folk. No reason to be out 'ere."

Lucille's sight lost itself in the wind. She had to remember that her father was like the fence, beaten and twisted by life. If she looked past his rough edges she could see the man he might have been, the man her mother had once loved and that Lucille steadfastly held to loving. "He keeps coming out here for me. We met online—"

"More reason not to trust 'im!"

"We've been struggling for a long time." Lucille's hand traveled to one of many tears in her dress. More than struggling, on the verge of starvation. Ray's drinking ensured they never made more than the bare minimum. Alec offered a better life, but Lucille knew better than to say that. "We'll take some of the burden off of you. He wants to provide for me."

"I do just fine at that. What you needs more fancy clothes for? You ain't no city harlot to be spreading yer legs for pretty things. You belong here with me."

"I'm marrying him."

Lucille strained to hear any sign of how he took this news, but the cliff's constant howl covered anything up.

"I went to see his house in Able's Hollow," Lucille said. "It's beautiful. There's a guest room, and you can stay as often as you like."

"You're not moving away." Ray's hiss came right in her ear. His shoulder bumped in her mid-back, making her stumble forward. The view of black rocks, screaming gulls and ocean spray swung before her eyes.

Her legs demanded she run. But Lucille had to face Ray's reaction sometime. She had to make Ray see. She would not leave him. Able's Hollow was only a few towns over. "I am marrying him. You'll always be my dad, nothing will change that, but I need a life of my own. Don't you see that?"

"No. You're mine. I raised you. I gave you everything. You are not going to leave me."

"Daddy, don't be ridiculous! Every child leaves home—It doesn't mean I'm abandoning you. Alec and I have a chapel booked for next Sunday. I've arranged the moving truck and Alec bought me a new car... I don't need to take anything for you. Don't you see how much easier life will be? I love him. I'll always be here for you—that won't change."

"You're mine." Ray roared.

His hand slammed into her back.

Her arms flew out trying to find purchase. Her fingertips brushed the bark of the tree and then her father's loose coat but slipped free. And then she was falling.

"Stay here with me," his voice followed her.

I tense inside my skin as I come to myself. She didn't bring me all the way through her crash into the rocks or the sucking chill of the water. I won't be spared. Whatever love was once in Lucille has fermented too long. The ties binding her to this place and to Ray are razor blades against my skin.

She deserves peace. And yet if I could, I would run from this place and from her. There is no point in lying to myself about it. I should want to give anything to free her; that is what the book wants from me. But I am who I am and in this moment, all I want is not to endure what I know comes next.

"Daddy, I'll never leave you," she whispers through my lips.

Ray stumbles forward a step.

Lucille grabs his arms, her grip containing all the strength of bone.

From his stupefied expression, I gather that Ray doesn't understand yet.

Lucille tugs at him, all her strength in the wrench of her arms. Ray's feet slide on the shale but then he digs in his heels resisting. He's stronger than her.

A futile tempest whirls inside me as Lucille screams.

I have to free her.

He deserves to die.

I add my strength to her, gripping both of his arms I throw myself backwards. We tumble together off of the cliff and I see myself reflected in his eyes. I envy him.

Salt air beats against me. The fall is over even as it begins. We hit the water, and then the slick rocks beneath. Blood bursts out, blooming on the water like smoke filling the air. The moment sears through every fiber of me, burning off all other thoughts. All my body and soul knows a splintering as bones and flesh break.

Lucille fades from me. Ray sinks. I can make out nothing of him but a red blur and then the world is black.

The blackness and the peace that comes with it doesn't last long. I wake on a nearby beach. Seaweed wrapped around my legs and fresh holes in my clothes.

First things first.

I pull out my book, hands shaking. One name will be gone. That is why I do this. One step closer to a peace of my own. Freedom.

Only, when the book falls open, there are still three names on that final page.

Ray's name shimmers at the bottom. I want to weep or scream. I want to argue that I didn't kill him. But there is no arguing with the book. It sees me better than I see myself. It understands that I haven't changed. I would if I could... I'll never run out of names.

You see, I know what it wants from me. Crossing out names is all well and good but what the book wants is for me to do more than just complete the task. I need to feel true regret for my actions... and as long as I enjoy seeing men like Ray die, both the book and I haven't changed.

I doubt I'll ever change. I'll never leave.