I stare at my reflection in the mirror for what feels like an eternity, my mind going in circles as I try to decipher why all of my other scars and injuries went away but these marks remained.

Could it be that Sergio truly had connections to the divine? Is that why these won't go away? Because they're not seared in my flesh, but in my soul?

The thought makes my legs tremble, and I grasp onto the sink to keep myself from falling.

He's taken so much from me already...to take even more?

Pain stabs in my chest as I choke a sob.

"Maldito perro," I rasp, my voice thick and filled with pain. "¡Espero que te pudras en el infierno!"

Too bad he died before I could take all my frustrations out on him. If there's one regret I have, it's that I wasn't there to see him suffer as he drew his last breath. That will forever haunt me as my hatred for him grows instead of abating.

I trail a finger down my naked body, following the sinuous curves of the black markings etched on my flesh. A shiver goes down my back just as a gust of wind blows in my direction.

My head snaps to the side, but the bathroom door is closed. No window in sight.

I blink, my breathing becoming more erratic.

It's just my imagination.

Turning, I note the mirror is once more fogged up. My brows bunch together in a frown as I take a towel and wipe it again. Yet as the contour of my form becomes visible in the mirror, so does something else.

My mouth opens on a gasp.

It's barely perceptible, but it's there.

The hairs on my back stand up as a shadowy form sways lightly in the air just behind me, smoke-like fog surrounding me like an outline.

I swallow hard, my heart drumming in my chest.

Is there a rule that if you suddenly become aware of the supernatural it also becomes aware of you? I could swear I've seen something like that in a movie...

Is it a ghost? Or another entity? Is it a creature...my senses go into overload as my rational side meets my fanciful one who'd like nothing more than to believe that if the supernatural is real, then maybe Nikki's ghost could also be real. That he'd still be with me, haunting me, glued to my side for an eternity. Yet even as that hope pulses inside of me, becoming more and more ardent with each passing second, the logical side of me tells me to tread carefully.

The black mass of air floats around me, so, so close. It doesn't make to leave, nor does it seem inclined to move.

I wet my lips as I force myself to slowly turn.

It remains rooted to the spot, even as I tip my chin up to gaze at it.