Ghosts of Girlfriends Passed

I wish I could have stopped it. He throws her against a shelf.

I TRIED to stop it. He cracks her head against the wall.

I screamed and yelled at the top of my lungs, hoping someone would hear me. COULD hear me. I shoved at him. He slams her to the ground.

I hit him. His hands are around her neck, but he can’t get a perfect grip because of her blood soaking his hands.

I threw things at him. She’s fighting back while trying to get free… to breathe. Nothing worked. The objects I threw never actually left their meticulously picked places. When she first moved in, I had watched her stress over the perfect placement of every, tiny knick-knack she owned.

Her movements became slower. Feebler. I tried to stop it.

Finally, I watch her hands fall away, bouncing off the carpet. I tried to save her.

Just like I had tried to save me. And I failed.

Again.

Oh, who am I? Funny you should ask. Well two years ago, I was this girl.

My name is Daisy… WAS Daisy. Two years later and I'm still not used to that. Was. I was 22. I had just had my birthday party two days prior to that night. Oh, and I'm a ghost. But you probably guessed that by now. I was murdered… in my home. This home. This room. By this same monster. David. His name is David, and he is now 29… and he was my fiancé.

His new victim, Lily, was his new fiancée. She was 22 also. Her birthday was yesterday. Are you seeing the pattern yet? I know you're probably thinking these are probably coincidences, our ages, the house, the ring, the deaths. But there's more. So much more.

Kneeling, I watch the blood seep from her head wound into the two-year-old white carpet. Why white? I tried to tell her that white was a bad choice. David had pulled up the blue carpet I had chosen when I moved in. A clean slate.

Actually, I tried to tell her to get out. To save her life. For two years, I have been trying to get some sort of message through to her. I had watched Supernatural enough to know it was possible with enough emotion… but apparently, I didn’t have enough. Or maybe Supernatural wasn’t accurate. Who knows for sure? I didn’t even know ghosts existed until… well… you know…

I wonder if she’ll join me in ghostdom… ghosthood? The paranormal plane. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to again. Could we talk to each other? Would we? Would she want to? Would she blame me somehow?

Sorry, I'm getting off-topic. I look at his face, watching the rage fade from it. It’s blank. He's a psychopath. No feelings. Just cold and calculating. David stares down into Lily’s wide blue eyes, her beautiful golden hair stained red, her face frozen in fear and betrayal. I recognize that look. I had the same look.

I didn’t know when I said yes to marrying David, that he had such anger issues. He seemed so perfect. So put together. So complete. Or I was just naïve. Or blind. Or stupid. I should have seen the signs. I should have listened to my family. But I was in love. He made me feel seen. Maybe that was the problem.

I had never had a boyfriend before him. I had guy friends aplenty, and they all thought of me as a sister. I was “one of the boys”. And then finally, I met David. He told me I was beautiful. He saw me as a woman. It wasn’t until a year into our relationship that he asked me to marry him. The ring was beautiful- an heirloom he said. “A beautiful ring for a beautiful girl.” I was ecstatic! I couldn’t wait to tell everyone.

That’s when I realized that no one really talked to me anymore. When did that even happen? It was weird. I hadn’t even noticed. How had I not noticed when I used to talk to my parents and my 3 best friends daily?

I messaged or called everyone. I made sure they knew my good news… But not a single one of them was happy for me. They all said the worst things about him. Controlling. Narcissist. Dangerous. Well, they were wrong- and I was going to prove it to them.

Or so I thought.

I ensured that all of my family and friends came to my birthday party. I’d made them promise. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until I saw them. We had an amazing time and I assured them all that I was happy. When the party was over, everyone hugged me as they left. My mom made me swear I was going to have dinner with her the next week. My sisters and I made plans to go dress shopping in a few days; they were my bridesmaids after all.

My three best friends- Zach, Garrett, and Gabe, pulled me into a big group hug. They’ve been my best friends and adopted family since we were 4 years old, and our moms were best friends themselves. They were my “adopted” brothers. They told me how much they missed me and made me promise we would have dinner the next night. Of course I agreed. Why wouldn’t I? I didn’t see the dark look on David’s face over Zach’s shoulder.

We had dinner and hung out in the bar we used to go to together every night after work. In the blink of an eye, it was well into the early morning hours. Before we knew it, Last call was being shouted over the karaoke. I was so contented with my friends that time flew by. Thankfully, Gabe lived in the apartment building behind the bar, so we all dragged our intoxicated selves to his couches and crashed hard. I had forgotten how good it felt to be with my people.

Later that morning I woke up to a dead phone. I groaned as I realized that I had forgotten to text David last night; I hadn’t even looked at my phone once. When I got home and charged my phone, I turned it on to hundreds of texts and voicemails. I didn’t listen to or read them. I wanted to apologize and talk before deleting them. I changed into my most comfortable clothes and waited for the coming argument.

David and I didn’t fight often, but when we did, it was a doozy. He knew what was best for me and our life together. I knew that and he told me why what he said was logical, but I just kept messing it up. I didn’t try to.

When David got home from work, he was livid. I heard the front door slam. When he came into view, I saw the fury in his eyes and a vein popping on his neck from his barely controlled rage.

I stood up to greet him, but without even letting me speak, he hit me. The side of my face exploded in pain as I felt my cheekbone shatter. My back hit the wall and I wasn’t sure if it was from the force of his punch or if he pushed me. He grabbed my hair that was in a messy bun and threw me to the ground. He had me pinned and was yelling all the cruel and hateful things- that I assumed must have been in his messages- right in my face.

I struggled. I fought, but I couldn’t get him off of me. I tried to speak but his weight on me was making it hard to breathe. I felt his hands squeeze around my neck and froze in terror. My hands were free, but I didn’t know what to do other than pry at his fingers. I was weak. Too weak. I tried to claw and slap at his face, but it was like a butterfly beating its wings on a bear’s snout. I couldn’t breathe. Dark spots danced at the edge of my vision, slowly creeping in.

Then it was over.

There was a moment of pure blackness, and then from a few feet away, I watched him stand up, his face expressionless.

He picked up my phone and deleted all the texts he had sent yesterday. He played each and every voicemail he left me on speaker, so I heard every single crude and hurtful word, before deleting each in turn. I was kneeling in shock, staring at my own face frozen in betrayal. Absorbing every word he had uttered in animosity. The very last message made my head swing around to gape at him. The four words that will ring in my ears for eternity.

In the calmest tone of voice I have ever heard from him- each word enunciated perfectly… “I. Will. Kill. You.”

Beep. Delete.

If I had just listened to my voicemails before he got home…

Then he called 9-1-1 and I watched his face remain vacant while the emotion flooded into his words. When paramedics and police showed, he played the perfect, distraught fiancé. He told them everything about coming home from work and finding me. He told them all about my promise to go to dinner with my friends last night, and how I never came home. He showed them that he tried to call me hundreds of times.

He gave them my best friends’ names, sweet Zach, smart Garrett, funny Gabe. My adopted family. The brothers I chose when we were all 4 years old. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I feel like I betrayed you. I should have listened. I should have gotten out. All three of them are still waiting in prison for their trials.

And Lily. Sweet Lily. She was my assistant. She was just like me- shy, never had a boyfriend, let alone been kissed, and she was training to take my job when I got the promotion I had worked on for months. I, too, had blonde hair and blue eyes. I think all of this together is why David was drawn to her. And played her. Just like he did me. A loud crash brings me back to reality and I realize I’m still staring at her.

I look around and it dawns on me that David is ransacking the house. He's making it look like a burglary gone wrong. He’s going to get away with it again. Who will he blame this time? Did she have any close male friends? I hope not. I wish I could have been at her birthday party last night, but it wasn’t at the house.

I hear her scream. I have company.

“Da-Daisy?!” She sees her body and screams again. I grab her hand and hug her close as she falls to her knees beside me, sobbing hysterically. It will take a while to come to terms with it. I feel my frustration at her situation… my situation… the entire situation… explode out of me.

The curtains next to me flutter and a picture frame on the side table falls over, the glass shattering. David stops and turns, looking through me and at me simultaneously. “Hi, Daisy.”

He knows?! He knew I was still here! For how long? The whole time? A sardonic smile crosses his face as he pulls his phone out. Without looking away from the spot I am rooted to, mouth agape and completely stunned, he taps the screen. I hear a muffled voice.

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”

Still smiling, still looking at- through? Can he actually see me? - me, his devastated and hysterical voice cries, “Send help! I need help! She’s dead! I think someone broke in! My fiancée, My love, my Lily…”