A Deadly Love- Book Two

Ch. 8- A Week After

"How many ghosts must I always carry with me? / How much more must I expand to accommodate?"

**

The bright sun shone in my eyes and I grimaced, making me cover it with my hand. I looked around and I was shocked to see that I was in my home. The one back in California. The one that I lived with my parents.

I was in my childhood bedroom before I moved into my aunt's house. There were stacks of books from Dickens to Rowling lying all around the room. I couldn't help but let out an exaggerated breath. I didn't think I would see this ever again.

I looked down at myself and I realized that I was wearing a tank top and cotton pajama shorts. Well, this is odd. I got out of the comfortable bed and the cold hardwood floor made me shiver. I walked toward the door and turned the knob slowly until it opened.

Just then, I thought I heard a noise. Footsteps? I'm guessing. I backed away from the door and quickly grabbed a random book that was on the shelf. I hid behind the door, the book used as my weapon, as the footsteps came closer. It stopped in front of my bedroom and sprang toward whoever was in the doorway, my heart beating a second.

The person stopped me by grabbing my wrist. I widened my eyes as I realized who it was. He was looking at me with surprise but he wasn't the only person that had the facial expression.

He grabbed the book from my hand and he turned his lips into a smile. "What are you doing, trying to kill me with literature?" he asked happily.

I couldn't help but stare at him. Black hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and a smile that could light up anyone's day. Christian.

He walked into the room and placed the book back where it was, turning toward me where I was in the same place. He gave me a look of concern. "Are you okay, Elora? You look like you just saw a ghost." he asked. But I am seeing a ghost right now.

But I couldn't keep standing here. In a second, I darted toward him and put my arms around him. I dug my face into him as I smelt his cologne. At this moment, all I could think about was Christian, my dear friend who was dead, was now in my arms. He was a little bit taller than me but I didn't care. He was here.

Christian let go of me, but he still held onto me by holding both of my hands. "You must have seen a pretty horrific ghost." he joked, giving me a smirk.

"I, uh how are you here?" I stuttered.

"You're parents let me in. Listen," he said, looking down at what I was wearing. "As much as I would love for you to wear that, I don't think your parents would."

Christian put his hand on my cheek, caressing it gently. I looked at him with confusion. "My parents?" I questioned. But they're dead.

Christian furrowed his brows. "Yeah, your parents. They're downstairs waiting for us." he admitted.

I wasn't listening to anything else after that. I was darting out of the room and downstairs. I passed pictures of my family across the wall as I was running.

As I was now downstairs, I saw that nothing has changed of my old house. The dent where I fell down riding Jackson's skateboard and the remnants of coloring on the wall. I turned my head and in the middle of the kitchen were a man and woman. My parents. They seemed lost in conversation as I slowly walked toward them. They noticed me and both stopped talking and giving me genuine smiles.

I let out a sigh of relief, running toward them and putting my arms around both of them. Oh, how I missed them. They were caught off guard but I didn't care. I had to hug my parents again.

I let go of them suddenly as tears started coming out of my eyes like waves. "Hey, is everything alright?" my mother asked, concerned of my well being. She moved a strand of hair away from my face.