The apartment was silent.
Not the comforting kind of silence, but the hollow, heavy kind that felt like something was holding its breath.
Cassie stood in front of the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on her face. Her dark under-eyes and pale complexion stared back at her from the mirror, looking like someone she didn't quite recognize anymore. Ever since the girl in the white dress, the one with the crying eyes and singed skin had finally moved on, Cassie had prayed it was over.
No more ghosts.
No more shadows at night. No more cold spots. No more waking up to whispers.
Please, just normal again.
She gripped the sink. The porcelain was ice-cold. Her chest tightened.
Don't think about it, Cassie. You're okay now. You're okay.
She looked up at the mirror, forcing herself to breathe.
And then she saw him.
Behind her.
A boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with messy black hair and bruises on his face. His eyes were glassy, but not the way the dead should look more like the way the devastated looked. His hoodie was soaked, his lips slightly parted, trembling like he wanted to speak but didn't know how.
Cassie's breath hitched. Her vision swam.
"No… no, no, no," she whispered, slowly turning around but there was no one there.
She spun back to the mirror.
He was still there.
Closer now.
His hand reached out toward her reflection.
Cassie stumbled back, slamming her back against the bathroom door. "No...please..I'm not doing this again. I'm done!" she cried.
The lights flickered.
The temperature dropped.
The ghost boy's mouth moved.
"Help me…"
She screamed.
"GET OUT! I can't! I'm not someone who helps ghosts. I'm not!" Her voice cracked, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm not strong! I don't want to see you! I don't want to see any of you!"
She slid down to the floor, clutching her knees. Sobs ripped from her throat, raw and loud and aching.
"This isn't my life. I'm not supposed to live like this," she whimpered. "I didn't ask for this. I just wanted peace. A new beginning. A quiet place. Just… a place to breathe again. I'm not a medium. I'm not a hero. I'm not anyone."
From the mirror, the boy's reflection stayed. Watching.
"I was just a dancer," his voice echoed gently real this time. "I didn't mean to die. I was fine one second. Then I couldn't breathe."
Cassie shook her head violently. "Don't do this. Don't tell me. Don't make me care. I can't care."
"Everyone says it was natural. But it wasn't. Something… took something from me."
Cassie curled tighter into herself. "Why me? Why are you coming to me?"
"Because you saw me," he said simply.
She looked up, her face a mess of tears and snot and disbelief. "I see a lot of people. Doesn't mean I can help them."
"I'm sorry," the ghost boy whispered. "I just wanted someone to know I mattered."
And with that, his reflection faded from the mirror.
Cassie was left alone again in the silence.
Only this time, it hurt more.
Not just from fear but from the unbearable ache of being the only one who could hear the cries of the forgotten.
The mirror was empty again.
No ghost. No boy. No cries for help.
Just Cassie.
Shaking. Soaked in sweat. Curled on the bathroom tiles like a fragile animal that had been cornered too many times. Her chest heaved, her sobs quieting into hiccups, throat raw from screaming, heart too tired to keep fighting the tide.
You saw him. You heard him. You're not crazy.
But that was the problem, wasn't it?
Because if she was crazy, at least none of this would be real. At least she could check herself into a nice little facility and never have to hear the dead again.
"Are you done making noise?" a voice drawled from the door.
Cassie flinched so hard she hit her elbow against the sink. "Jesus!" she snapped, twisting to face the speaker with wide, glassy eyes.
Adrian.
No, not Adrian.
Yama.
Or whatever his real name was. The ancient, otherworldly being hiding behind a sleek black coat and an eternal scowl.
He leaned against the doorway like he had all the time in the world. His silver-ringed fingers were tucked casually into his coat pockets. His gaze, that cold, midnight stare, swept over her pitiful state without flinching.
"Don't do that," Cassie snapped, wiping her eyes. "Don't just appear like that."
"I didn't appear," he said. "You just weren't paying attention."
Cassie let out a bitter laugh and turned away, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.
"Go away."
"No."
"I don't want to see you right now."
"I don't care."
Her spine stiffened.
He stepped closer, the sound of his shoes deliberate on the tile. "He was just a boy," Adrian said calmly. "You didn't even ask his name."
"Because I don't want to know his name!" she exploded, whirling on him. "If I know his name, I'll care. And if I care, I'll help. And if I help, I'll end up in the same nightmare over and over again until I completely lose my mind."
He stared at her, unimpressed. "You're already halfway there."
Cassie's jaw dropped.
"You're not funny," she growled, pushing herself to her feet wobbly, trembling, but upright. "You don't get to come in here and mock me while I'm breaking down. You're supposed to be the… god of death, aren't you? Shouldn't you be doing something more important than harassing a girl who's barely keeping it together?"
Adrian stepped even closer until the air between them thinned.
"You are important," he said quietly.
That made her freeze.
She stared up at him, her breath shallow.
Adrian's face gave nothing away. "That's why you're seeing them. That's why you're being chosen. You remember them. You feel them. You carry them. And you make sure they're not forgotten."
Cassie's throat constricted. "I never asked for that kind of responsibility."
"No one ever does," he replied. "But some are born with the heart for it, even if it terrifies them."
She shook her head. "Then take it back. Take it off me. Close my eyes again. Whatever you did when I touched that… relic in your apartment undo it. Please."
He didn't answer.
Her voice cracked. "Please."
Adrian looked down at her for a long moment. His hand reached inside his coat.
Cassie took a step back, uncertain.
But when he pulled his hand out, there was something dangling from his fingers.
A pendant.
It shimmered faintly, silver and obsidian, shaped like a teardrop encased in flame. Ancient script was etched across the edges—nothing Cassie could read, but it felt heavy with purpose.
He held it out to her. "Wear this," he said. "It's charmed."
She blinked. "Charmed to do what?"
"To keep hostile spirits away from your body. Particularly those who might try to enter it."
Cassie paled. "That can happen again?"
He gave a small tilt of his head. "You've been lucky. Some ghosts are more desperate than others. And your fear makes you vulnerable."
Cassie stared at the pendant. "Why now?"
"You were almost possessed two nights ago," he said matter-of-factly. "I had to intervene."
She shivered. "You mean the thing that climbed onto my bed?"
He nodded.
"And you...wait...you were there?"
"I'm always there."
Cassie blinked, startled by the quiet intensity in his voice.
He dropped the pendant into her hand.
"It won't stop them from reaching out to you," Adrian said. "But it will keep them from hurting you."
She clutched it tightly. "Why are you helping me?"
His expression didn't change. "Because I don't feel like burying you."
Her lips parted, stunned into silence.
He turned and walked away.
Cassie stared at the pendant for a long moment before looping it around her neck.
It pulsed once warm and strange before settling against her chest. This is the second pendant she's receiving from him.
And for the first time in hours, the cold that had clung to her skin began to fade.