Some people swore that the house was haunted. To tell you the truth, it was. However, I’m not a ghost hunter or your standard believer. I’m the actual ghost. When I was about sixteen, I committed suicide. Tragic, I know. There was no way that I could live with the loss though.


You see, my boyfriend and I were in love. The love we had wasn’t some sappy teenage romance, it was real. He was a year older than I was at the time and we were very happy. In the mornings he’d pick me up and drive me to school, and then we’d kiss goodbye before we went our separate ways for class. After school, we’d study and enjoy each other’s company before departing once again. The process repeated over and over until the end. Our love was simple and sweet. However, it all changed when he died.


My boyfriend’s death brought the end to my world. There was no way that I could manage the rest of my life without him. He was all that mattered to me. I didn’t eat for weeks and all I could do is cry. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. When my parents went out for dinner one night, I took the cleaner from under the kitchen sink. I walked to my room with the bottle clutched tightly in my hands and I fell to my bedroom floor. Slowly, I took off the cap to the bottle of cleaner and inhaled its contents. My head filled with a deadly aroma. As I tipped the bottle’s neck towards my lips, my eyes gently closed as the liquid entered my mouth. I wanted to get the job done no matter how much it burned. So, I kept drinking.


I’m guessing that when my parents got home from their lovely night out, they discovered my body. The cleaner did the trick. Not once did I wake up and find myself breathing again. I wasn’t satisfied with the results however. Instead of drifting up to heaven and being with my boyfriend, I remained in a state of darkness. I could hear everything going on inside my head, but if I tried hard enough I could imagine an old memory to fill up the emptiness. At one point I could hear music. It wasn’t too long after that when I woke up. Light crept in from the corners of my mind bringing me back to life. Emotion returned to my brain. Panic seeped in through the cracks as I slowly found myself back in my room.


The room I woke up in had the same shape as my bedroom, but it looked completely different. It was a different color with new furniture. I recognized my book shelf. I freaked and ran for the door. I swear the door was closed though. Instead of smacking directly into it however, I flew right through it. I looked back at the door, but it remained closed without any holes or cracks. When I looked down at my hands pressed against the carpet, they had a transparency to them. I stood up and walked to the dining room completely in denial. When I stepped onto the cold tile, I felt nothing. I saw my parents eating their breakfast but there was a stranger at the table. She looked to be about six years old. She stood up to put her dish away and kissed my mother goodbye. She yelled, “Love you mommy and daddy!” as she left for her first day of school. Nothing was ever the same again after that.