The darkness was welcoming. A finger lingered over the light switch, begging to drop away into the abyss. Light trickled in under the door. Eyes closed, and he savored the quiet. This was his sanctuary. This was home.
“Nice apartment.”
Eyes snapped open. A finger stabbed at the light switch. Metal flashed, and the gun was ready. But an empty room now met his gaze. Still, he knew. He knew that someone was there.
“Is this how a killer lives?”
“Where are you?”
The apartment was small. The living room connected to the kitchen, and the bedroom was a few paces away. As he surveyed his home, his sanctuary, he slid against the wall, pressing his back into the hollow, painted wood, and scanned for his target. The bedroom door was closed, so he moved toward it, ready to kick in the door. And after doing so, he found the intruder waiting inside. All he had to do was shoot him and claim self-defense. Instead, he froze.
“Hello, Davis.” The man was a shadow against the dark. “Nice to see you again.”
“Again?” Davis tried to steady his hand. “Do I know you?”
“You will.”
“Who are you?” The man walked past him and out into the living room. “I asked you a question. Who are you?” Davis followed him. “Answer me!”
“You didn’t open this.” The man now pointed at a large manila envelope on the living room table. “It’s your next assignment.”
“How do you know about me?” Davis wanted to kill him. He used to be good at his job, never felt an ounce of fear, but now he was shaken to his core. “Why are you here?”
“I like you, Davis.” The man turned toward him, and another notch of fear climbed up his spine. “You cut right to it. No bullshit.”
“No bullshit. So, why don’t you tell me why you are here?” He positioned his gun at him, but his hand still shook.
“Nervous? You should be.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you are going to kill me.” Davis laughed. “Tomorrow.” The man inched forward. “And you will kill me.” Davis froze. “All because they paid you to.”
“What is this? Some kind of joke?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe that I will kill you, but it won’t be tomorrow.”
“Yes, it will.”
An echo thundered into the apartment. Something struck the hollow, painted wood. A moment later, the gun fell hard to the floor, and Davis stumbled back. His mouth hung open, and his hand shook more. The bullet went right through the intruder as if he weren’t even standing before him, and Davis went cold.
“Open it.”
“What?” Davis swallowed hard. “Open what?”
“The manila envelope.”
“I… I don’t understand.”
“I said,” and he inched closer to Davis. “Open it. Open it,” and Davis flinched in response.
The envelope felt like a weight in his hands. Without wasting any more time, it was ripped open, and a picture slipped out. It fell down against the floor, and Davis did not want to touch it. Then, a piece of paper also drifted downward, but that Davis was able to snap up into his hand. It was a name, but he still refused to touch the photo on the floor.
“Don’t you want to see the picture of your next victim?” Davis shook his head. “Tell me his name.”
“No. Please, leave me be. Get out of here.”
“My so-called best friend is banging my wife. They’re in my bed right now not expecting me until tomorrow.”
“I don’t care.”
“Do you want to live?” Davis did not like his tone. “Do you want to live?” Davis nodded. “Burn the photo. Now!”
Davis did as he was told. He walked into the kitchen and turned on the stovetop. Small flames trickled upward, and he dropped the photo into the fiery embrace. When the task was done, the ghost still remained.
“Go to my house,” he whispered into Davis’s ear. “Kill them both.”
“Is that what it would take to get rid of you?”
“Yes. If you don’t…” Davis followed his gaze over to the large, glass window. “It’s a long way down.”
“You can’t kill me.”
“You killed me.”
“Okay,” but then Davis thought of something. “If this happens and I kill them, then what happens tomorrow?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if I don’t kill you tomorrow, then how can you still be here?”
“I…” That worried him, and a moment later, he was gone.
The train had just pulled into the station. He exited, pulling his coat closer as if to fight off a chill. He sprinted across to the next track, where he would catch his ride home. He checked his watch and heard the train coming. He tilted forward to catch a glimpse of it, and just as he did, a kid on a skateboard flew by. And then he too was flying.
“No,” but he could not turn away. As the ghost watched on in horror, a newspaper drifted past him. The front page screamed of betrayal and murder, his wife and friend, but that still did not save him. He was still dead. Yet, he was still here.
