Chapter Four: Ghost in the Bedroom
Three days after the funeral, I returned to Parker's room.
Everyone said to leave it untouched for a while. They said the dead need their space.
I didn't care.
Something about that room pulled at me. The bed was made. The jacket gone again. I opened the wardrobe—nothing. Looked under the bed—empty.
But the air was colder here.
The silence didn't feel like absence. It felt like waiting.
That night, I had a dream—except it wasn't. I know it wasn't.
I was back at the bridge. The sky above was split in half—night on one side, sunlight on the other. In the water, Parker stood knee-deep, his clothes soaked, his face turned away.
"Parker!" I screamed. "Why did you do it? Why didn't you say something?"
He turned.
His eyes weren't sad. They were empty.
"You weren't supposed to follow me."
Then the water swallowed him, and I woke up gasping.