I breathe in and out, closing my eyes and trying to get a modicum of control over myself. All my life, this is what I've been best at—compartmentalizing. When things got too hard, I focused on the bright side—on the future that was yet to come. Only that way could I withstand the pain and the suffering. Because I knew better times were ahead. I may have been hopeless at times, but I've always been an optimist by nature, so I harnessed that hopelessness and simply dropped the less.

If I could turn dearth into abundance, then I could prevail. So I focus on that.

Imagining all my grief, I focus on it until it turns into a tangible ball of energy. I wrap my hands around it and aim to change its meaning. Just like hope was born out of desperation, so is determination born out of grief.

My heart rate slows down as the last tendrils of heartache recede.

I slowly open my eyes, a gasp escaping me as I startle back.

A shimmery black shadow looms over me, the contour of a body clearer than it's ever been. And just as I'm about to fall on my back, a hand reaches out to stop me.

A hand that can... touch me.

"Nikki?" I croak as he pulls me back up. He's on his knees in front of me.

"Luce." His voice echoes, barely audible and distorted.

TWENTY-FOUR

"Oh my God, you can speak. You can touch me," I inhale sharply.

"Yes," he replies. His touch is cold and impersonal. It doesn't feel like skin, only like a hard surface that's being molded to my arm.

"How? What happened?" I ask, worry infusing my words.

"This world," he speaks slowly. "I have more...strength."

I stare at him, unable to believe this is actually happening. And just like that, all the hope I toiled to foster blossoms. His features are not discernible. There's still only a dark smoke that swirls with tinges of silver. But the contour of his body is unmistakable, as is his intoxicating presence.

Tentatively, I reach out, my palm fitting to the plane of his cheek. I caress him softly. I may not be able to see his face, but I can feel his features. It's him. My Nikki.

"Oh, Nikki," I burst out, throwing myself into his arms.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the hard surface of his chest. Everything is familiar. Everything but one thing. There's no heartbeat. That soothing sound that has been my safe place for years is missing.

Of course it's missing. He's a ghost.

"You're following me, aren't you? You're attached to me?" I ask as I lean back.

He nods slowly.

"You have to...quit."

"What?" I frown.

"It's not safe. Please," he whispers. "Don't risk yourself for me."

"How can you ask me that? How can you even suggest it? You know I'd do anything for you."

He shakes his head.