My alarm clock rang through my exhaustion and ripped me from the dead-to-the-world sleep I'd been enjoying. When I opened my eyes again, I was on my bed in a button-down shirt and the same shorts I'd been wearing last night. Clearly, I hadn't died. Why would a ghost bother changing only half of an outfit if they could change anything at all?

With a quick glance around the room, I confirmed that I was truly alone. It looked the same as it did yesterday before Hell rained fire down on my life. A pair of shoes lay dumped next to my closet and a few not quite dirty clothes hung off the knobs of my dresser. The alarm grew louder as I continued to ignore it and stare at what felt like a frozen point in my life. Would the police come banging on my door asking about Janiel, or Patrick, or the others? Did I still have a job?

Finally, I turned to my alarm and my whole body seized; my neck stung, my shoulders ached, my legs locked. Breathing in and out until it lessened, I gently raised an arm to swat my alarm off. Everything hurt. My hands cradled my head for a few moments while I brought my focus back.

Running long distances always seemed like a crazy notion unless someone was chasing you and now I understood why you train and prepare. The second my feet hit the ground, the nerve endings tingled and burned. I almost slid off the bed to the floor, but managed to hold on to my nightstand.

Although I was still dressed and my hair was a stinking mess, my arms looked clean. Moving my neck hurt too much to inspect the rest of me without the aid of a mirror so I ambled into the bathroom. There I saw that my skin had been wiped clean of dirt and blood, which made the cuts, scraps, and bruising that littered my body stand out more. I almost had a black eye. A few of the larger scraps were bandaged up lightly and my neck had a big piece of gauze taped over the bitemarks.

I shouldn't go out in public today. I was a train wreck.

But if there was a chance that I still had a job, I needed to go in especially after yesterday's fiasco. I didn't need to give them any more of a reason to fire me. And yet, if the cops showed up to arrest me, that would probably be the end of it anyway. What about Janiel's obvious disappearance? But if I don't show, that'll make me more suspicious.

I could call in sick, but who knew where my cell phone was, with my luck, burned up in the hotel room next to Janiel's body. Or worse, in an evidence bag waiting to be unlocked so they could connect me to her murder.

My stomach grumbled and I shifted in the mirror.

I should probably eat something.

Somehow I ended up getting ready for work and standing at my door before I realized I didn't have my purse or keys or anything to actually get me there. Laying my head against the cool wood, I closed my eyes and sighed.

No show and no calling? Guess I really would end up unemployed then.

When my eyes opened though, they spotted a small brown bag next to the door. It was my purse. Slowly, I bent down and unzipped it. My phone was still nowhere to be found, but my wallet and keys were tucked inside along with all the other junk I usually had tossed into the mix.

I may be mad at him still, but the fact that Ian found my purse and returned it put a small smile on my face.

Que será será.

The hours at the office couldn't drag on any slower. Besides being on the receiving end of harsh glances and hushed whispers, Janiel's silent cubical weighed down on me more than any nasty rumor. None of them knew the truth and none of them would ever believe me. This was the second time one of my coworkers suffered because of me. I wanted to search for Leo, but frankly I was too afraid of what I might find, another mysteriously empty desk with no call or email.

So I just sat there, trying to block out the more boisterous colleagues who wanted to see if I'd rise to their bait. It really didn't matter what they said. The fire made the news already and I was impatiently waiting for the cops to bust in and haul me away. It was clear that I'd been through Hell, no amount of make-up could cover up all those bruises and scrapes. My gait was shorter than usual as well since my legs were switching between pins and needles and jelly.

Even Tiffany and Trish made a point to avoid my section of the cubical corner. Why should either of them believe anything I say? The last person to accuse me of something nasty vanished.

What would I do tomorrow when Janiel still didn't come in?

Nothing, probably. The police would've found the connection and the accusation, and then dragged me in long before work.

No one spoke to me the entire day. They spoke of me, but not to me. So when my eight hours were up, I shut my computer off and walked out in silence. At least nobody tried to stop me or fire me.

I popped a few painkillers when I got home and sat down on the couch. My body hurt too much when I tried to climb out of my Recliner of Refuge, too much reclining and not enough refuge.

A loud knock on my door woke me. I hadn't even realized that I'd passed out. Maybe I shouldn't have gone to work or driven.

Oh well.

After getting up and peeking through the peep hole, I spotted Ian's broad shoulders. Was I still mad at him? This exhaustion drained all emotion out of me.

I unlocked and pulled the door open for him to come in.

His head was down, tucking his chin to his chest like he was the bearer of bad news to me. It was sort of accurate since trouble followed him closely. He turned around to stare at me once I locked the door.

"You didn't go out today, did you?" His eyes looked brighter today than usual, but a little bloodshot. "Why?"

"What was I supposed to do? Sit around here and mope?" I broke our connection and walked over to the couch. "I'd go crazy."

"You're pretty good about only moping for a little bit, but no, I expected to you hang around and heal." He followed me, but just squatted down to place a hand on my leg. "You escaped going to a hospital again, but only just. Those burns were nasty."

I rolled my eyes and attempted to cross my arms without pain. It almost worked. "It happens when someone lights you on fire. Look, I'm sure the police will be coming soon enough so why don't you get out of here before it's too late?"

He squeezed my thigh ever so slightly and tried to catch my gaze. "Is there nothing I can do?"

"To what?" I shook my head and plucked his hand off of my leg. It was cold now. "Are you seriously that interested in me? It's an obsession; Patrick had it too. You want me because I'm different, because you can't tell me what to do. You don't actually want me. I probably make you feel like you're human again, but I'm sorry to break it to you, you're not human and you never will be again."

"Will you at least tell me what happened at the hotel?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Did he do something to you? Is that why you can't stand it when I touch you anymore?" His voice leaked with anger as he started to reach out to me again, but stopped himself. He balled his hands into fists to keep them at his sides.

"Did he do something to me? Who didn't try to do something to me yesterday? Have you seen my face? My arms? My sides?" I jerked my arms out, opening them up to him, and winced at the pain. "I look like the punching bag at a gym. Everybody took a swing at me and hit. Now I'm just waiting for the rest of my worthless life to finish crashing down on me. I don't know what to do in the meantime so if I have to keep going to work until they fire me or the police pick me up, then so be it. It's better than sitting here doing nothing."

He sat back on his feet, scanning my black and yellow and green arms. The glimmer in his eyes brightened periodically, but he didn't try to force anything. "I know. I already saw them. I just, I just hoped you could still talk to me. It was nice to have someone to chat with that didn't want something in return."

"Someone you could trust. Yeah, that would've been nice." I leaned back into the cushions of the couch and closed my eyes. "I guess I'm not such a great judge of character after all. Emily ended up being just like you."

Silence sat between us for a few moments. I almost thought he'd left when he cleared his throat and stood up.

"I don't know what happened with her, but you ought to know that Lisa's stabilized and slowly getting better."

I thought that I'd cried enough for one lifetime, but without permission a few errant tears slid down my cheeks. I opened my eyes to look at him and smiled faintly. "I'm glad. She deserved better."

"So did Janiel. I saw the news and looked into the police report."

"I always pegged her as a lover, not a fighter, but I was wrong. She was both."

Ian bent down again and held his hand out to my face before retracting it. "I could help you heal, if you want. Everything won't be clear overnight, but most of it would."

"No, everyone saw me at work already. They'll know something's up if I'm nearly healed tomorrow and frankly, this is going to hurt for a while." I tapped my chest lightly and, noting his smirk, looked away. "Shut up, I know it's dumb to say, but it's true. So many people died because of me. You don't just get over that. I'm sure it's just another day in your life, but not mine."

This time he got down onto his knees and took my hands. "I never meant for any of this to happen when I rescued you. And I don't go around killing people all day, not anymore."

His eyes glowed again, brightly and a warm buzz slithered across my skin, easing any tension in the muscles.

"Are you trying to make me accept you?" I tried to wrench my hands from his grasp, but they held fast.

He cocked his head to the side, a question hanging on his slightly parted lips.

"Your eyes are glowing and I feel a strange easiness crawling over me. What are you doing?"

Immediately, he released my hands and jumped back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was doing anything. I just wanted you to feel better. I should go."

In a blink, he was at the door, but paused, glancing back at me for a moment. "Just in case, line your doors and windows with salt tonight."

Then he left.

~

Ian had spooked me. He really had seemed clueless, but that didn't forgive his actions. He spoke of wanting trust and yet wanted to force me to do it. What was stranger still was it seemed like it had been working. I thought I'd overcome his abilities and could resist him so why had I started slipping under his control? It could have been just as simple as me being so utterly exhausted that I had nothing left to give, but that was still untested, so I had lined my apartment with salt per his request.

I guess that actually worked because he stayed away. My schedule remained the same: wake up, go to work, come home, sleep.

No one seemed to want to interrupt my routine whether at work or at my apartment. I did stop to pick up a new phone since I had a feeling mine was long gone by now.

It had been a week since the fire and I was more and more confused by the fact that the police didn't try to reach me. Clearly, video cameras or my cell phone or something would have connected me to Janiel's murder. It had been a couple days since they finally released her name on the news. Everyone at work seemed to glare at me even more after that, but no one said anything to my face. A few had the gall to look surprised when I showed up to a morning meeting.

Yet, no police or investigators contacted me.

By Friday, I was reaching my limit. For days, notes had been left on my desk and around my cubicle stating I ought to just turn myself in, I was guilty and everyone could see it, I was a murderer. They all seemed to forget that I too sustained injuries. I'd made a non-committal remark about falling down the stairs once, but no one bought it.

Hell, we all knew I was lying.

I knew I was fired when I saw the email from HR requesting I visit them at three o'clock. They'd probably make up some line about how I was disrupting the productive work environment and something about cutbacks. Whatever.

I started cleaning up my desk and organizing everything to be left behind. What was I going to do with an industrial sized stapler or scissors? Nothing.

A few minutes before three, I left my cubicle with my eyes downcast. If I looked up, I could see who was accusing me with their eyes, but I didn't care anymore. I lost. I always did.

As I walked by the breakroom, the news was on and turned up louder than usual. There was an unexpectedly large crowd staring up at the TV while the news reporter spoke about the Ritzel Fire and Lee-Anderson Wedding Massacre as well as the mysterious murder of Janiel MacIntosh.

"Earlier this week, Police have now confirmed that the notorious Blue Man Gang was involved in at least the Lee-Anderson Wedding Massacre, thanks to several survivors coming forward and testifying that they had in fact seen Reginald E. Downs also known as Mr. Blue burst into the wedding hall with several men armed with handguns and assault rifles. A few mentioned how he approached two party guests, a man and a woman, and began shouting before opening fire. At least twelve men and women are dead from that event alone, many of which had bravely stepped up to try to de-escalate the situation. Roughly two hours later a fire broke out on the tenth floor of the same hotel where the charred remains of Janiel MacIntosh were found with a gaping hole in her chest. Police believe she had been stabbed with a piece of furniture that has since burned up. Investigators are baffled as to why the entire facility's security cameras had been shut off and how no one noticed, but are further questioning the head of security currently. Whether the fire was meant as a distraction from the wedding disaster that left four of his own men dead or to cover up whatever happened to Miss MacIntosh, police have made no comment."

Murmurs rose as people added in their own theories, but stopped once the news caster began speaking again.

"Police uncovered the body of Mr. Blue earlier this morning along with evidence linking him and his group to human trafficking, drug-dealing, and other illegal activities. Police have provided a list of establishments used as fronts for several of these disgusting events to include Mr. Smiley's Dental Clinic, EZ's Dance Club, and Gunther's Gym. If you or anyone you know has visited one of these businesses and think you may have been affected, contact..."

I stared up at the screen and blinked, but my ears stopped hearing things. It was so close to the truth, yet not completely there. A few heads had turned and stared at me, mouths gaping, before bashfully looking away and brushing past me.

That's right, I needed to go get officially fired. Not wanting to attract any more attention, I stepped out of the doorway and kept my face down.

But one question tugged at my mind more than the others.

How did they get all that information?

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