As Rhea outstretched her arm, reaching for something that wasn't there, she continued to mumble, "Mama." Laying on her side, weak and in need of assistance, she groaned, and I could see death closing in even without the decelerating beeping of the vital sign monitor in the distance.

A pit formed in my heart for her suffering, for our pain. But I didn't have time to bemoan as Nolan towered above her with a menacing glare in his leaking, hollow eyes like a giant to an injured young lamb. The way his body levitated inches above the ground, the toes of his shoes angled straight down in the most unnatural way, sent chills down my spine.

"You are no longer needed." He moved toward me, not even an attempt to lift a foot to step over Rhea who lay on the floor in her own blood, his legs easily passed through her as if her body was nothing more than an illusion. And he treated her as such, showing no interest in the physical body whatsoever. "I'm gonna get rid of you once and for all."

"You would have tried to get rid of me even before this runway gig if I had the courage to use my voice back then and tell you to fuck off." Although I backed away to keep space between us, I mimicked his glare, keeping my eyes locked on his grotesque facial features. I wanted to dig deeper, to pull from my pain and really hit him where it hurt. "I should have listened to my mom a long time ago and left you alone to rot in hell."

He hissed from the stink. "You wouldn't have left me. I gave you your career," he countered. "You're a smart girl, babe. You followed the money, fame, and success. I could have battered you black and blue and you would have stayed, because I made you who you are. That's no secret."

"I was unhappy. No, miserable." I went on, taking deliberate steps back that took me further from Rhea. In case her conscious slipped again, Nolan would be nowhere near her to coax the other phantom to stay. "I told you everything was fine, made you believe I was content, and that things were peachy cobbler. But now I realize I was trying to convince myself of those things. I was broken. We were broken. And we both know the lie we lived."

"Broken things exist to be fixed," he continued toward me. "I am an expert and repairing broken things. That's why you hired me, that's why you fell in love, that's why you let me inside of you. Because I fixed you, your sad life, and your lackluster career. I made you, Rhea."

I nodded, agreeing. "Sure. You're right. You can take credit for it all—my happiness, my life, my career—but what good is any of it now anyway?" I went on. "Look at me, even if I survive this, I will never be the same. You made sure of that. No one will want to hire me, photograph me, or see me in a beauty campaign ever again. And you know what? I like it that way. So, go ahead and take credit for my entire existence as Rhea, but the one thing you won't take is my life."

"Ma?" Rhea's muffled voice grabbed my attention as she cried, "Mama?"

Jos appeared from my periphery, cautiously making her way towards the horrid scene. "Rhea?" she called out, her voice soft yet shaky. "Can you hear me?" There was concern in her demeanor but not for the right reasons.

"Ma?" Rhea managed, but this time her cries registered. The entire time she had been calling out to Mom but reaching out to me. She must have been confused, mistaken me for Mom and begging for my help. It must have been heartbreaking watching who she thought was her mother back away from her during a pivotal life or death moment, when a daughter needed her mother the most.

As Jos and I kept our gazes on her, Nolan grew curious and turned to look as well. I took the opportunity to extend my arm to her to encourage her not to give up.

Jos kneeled beside her, a mixture of curiosity and worry in her demeanor. "What about your mom, Rhea?"

The talk of Mom brought up a memory of the recent conversation Jos and I had while we were in this very room discussing my mother. A moment of bonding I thought would allow me to embrace being vulnerable and let my guard down around a person I foolishly believed cared about me.

Earlier, right after Jos spilled the news about Nolan managing her acting career, the conversation had transitioned to my mother and how she had told me my high school bully hurt me because he secretly loved me.

That conversation triggered a memory.

"A few years ago, my mom would schedule a date and time to come see me and I would set an alarm on my phone to remind me."

My phone!

I needed to get to my phone.

My eyes immediately locked onto the open door that led to the apartment and the bedroom. Nolan had hidden the phone under the mattress of the bed, and now my sole intent was to get to it.

While Rhea unintentionally kept Nolan and Jos distracted, I rushed toward the apartment and immediate made my way to the area on the bed where I remember Nolan hiding my phone. I knew it was there, even though I couldn't see it. I extended my hand to touch the mattress, and unsurprisingly my fingers went straight through.

There were times where I thought about the existence of poltergeists and if they truly had the ability to disrupt electrical currents and move heavy objects around the room like they were depicted in movies. If I had the ability to push a glass trophy, move a hand towel, and kick solid items while in this ghostly form, I knew I could manipulate a cell phone as well.

But I didn't have enough time to prepare, because Nolan's bony fingers clenched my arm and pulled me from the mattress.

His frustrated growl rang in my ears. "Why won't you die already?"

"Go to hell," I countered. And rushed to the mattress again. This time I placed my sole intention on finding the phone, imaging it sandwiched between the pillowtop mattress and its box spring. As my hand sunk into the corner of the bed, my fingers grazed something hard and smooth. Adrenaline kicked up a flurry of excitement in me that was immediately snuffed out by Nolan's tight fists in my hair.

He yanked me back and I splay out flat staring up at nothingness. Even the dark fog on the ethereal edge of the dimly lit room swooshed in spirals from the force of his pull. His hands remained tangled in my strands, and out of instinct I gripped his bloody wrists as he dragged me along the floor and away from the bed.

I screamed from the pain that radiated from my head wound, and the ornate light above the bed and the lamp on the nightstand flickered.

The way his fingers curled and twisted in the tangles caused my head to ache as chunks of hair were ripped from my scalp. Before I could think of my next move, I kept hold of his wrists as he lifted me by my hair and slammed my body back to the floor. For my skull to meet the hard tile was his intention, but I reached up on his forearms and dug my fingers into his lengthy open wounds to thwart his plan. My fingers sunk into his flesh like cold, wet clay as I wanted nothing more than to redirect my pain onto him.

His howling cries pierced my eardrums as they existed his mouth and echoed from every direction surrounding us. The lights continued to flicker out of sync, and he finally released his hold.

With the remnants of his old clumps of blood on my hands, and despite the transparency of my fingers, I pushed myself up to my feet to sprint toward the bed. Without looking back, I reached inside the mattress until the cold glass and metal registered on my skin.

Not sure how to proceed I allowed my need to quickly guide me. All I could think of was Mom and how much I wanted to be in her comforting embrace, and if I would ever get that chance again. With my fingers on the phone and the thought of Mom in my mind and heart, the phone startled me when it did what I envisioned and began to chime.

"How did you—?" Nolan grunted. "What did you do?"

My eyes widen in exhilaration. I've done it. I somehow made the alarm go off, and its high-pitched jingle was music to my ears.

"Turn it off," Nolan ordered. "Or I won't only get rid of you. I will make you suffer before I do."

My head throbbed but I ignored it, gritting my teeth in the process. "If you want it off, do it yourself." I ran toward the open door that led to the studio and glanced over my should when I realized he wasn't following.

Instead, he knelt near the corner of the bed and swiped at the mattress with his bloody arms. Every attempt and every swipe went right through the bed as well but didn't stop trying.

No wonder he had communicated to his handsome counterpart through body language only. Maybe body language was his only means of communicating and interacting with physical space. Although it seemed he had many possibilities to master terrorizing me in this ethereal realm, he had yet to master manipulating physical objects.

I left him near the bed and continued through the door toward Rhea and Jos. At first, I thought Joselyn had her eye on me as I entered the room, but she had only been looking in the direction of the room instead. "What's that? A phone?"

I glared into her wide eyes and envisioned tangling my fingers around that dirty blond ponytail and yanking her to the floor like Nolan had done to me. Always the good girl, I would never, in any circumstance, leave her to slowly die if the tables were turned. And that betrayal roaring inside me brought out and anger I wasn't sure I could contain or wanted to.

Jos dropped to Rhea's side, balancing on her knees. "Hey, is that your phone?" She tried desperately to get Rhea's attention.

Rhea looked beyond her and at me.

Standing only feet away, I nodded. "Yes, tell her. Tell her it's your phone." I pointed and nodded, trying my best to communicate nonverbally.

Rhea sighed. "Yes. Please. Jos."

The look in Joselyn's eyes conveyed a worry that wasn't for Rhea and her wellbeing, but a fear I had yet to witness. "What's the alarm for?"

Rhea lifted her arm to me as if asking me to grab it, to save her from the fear and pain. "Mom." In her weakened state she must have confused my hair, slender frame, and broad shoulders with Mom's. I couldn't blame her, genetically Mom was part responsible for my sought-after look.

Jos glanced over her shoulder towards me. Her hair swung with the sudden jerk, but her eyes looked right through me. "Mom? What does that mean?"

"Mama," Rhea said with a wearied sigh.

And the realization finally hit Joselyn, causing her to gasp. "The alarm. You set your alarm when she says she's coming, but she never does. Your mom, you're not planning for her to come over, right?"

Before I could let Rhea muster up another word, I nodded excitedly. "Yes. Tell her yes."

Rhea mimicked me with a nod. "Mom's coming."

"What, no." The panic caused her voice to crack. "You can't be serious. What have I done? What the hell did I get myself into?" She paced before me. "What do I do? Oh, my gosh. How do I fix this?" She seemed to be talking to herself more than anything.

Rhea groaned. "Help."

The alarm continued to chime from the other room as Jos shook her head. "It's too late for that. I'd really be ruined if anyone came here now. Fuck! The headline. I already know the headline. 'The assistant to the internet's beloved fashion influencer revealed to refuse to help upon finding Rhea near death."

"No." Rhea moaned. "I won't tell."

Frustrated grunts sounded from the bedroom, but I was the only one to react to them, turning to look. I could only imagine Nolan trying everything in his power to retrieve the phone and stop its chiming.

~~~

We're nearing the end! Stay tuned for the last few chapters of Phantom Me.

What would you like to see happen before the story ends?