According to Greek mythology humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.

I do not believe in soulmates. I hate those stupid movies Hollywood dishes out where anorexic women do ridiculous things to grab the attention of over-moussed men in the name of true love. I hate novels that describe true love's kiss as being something electric, where the participants see fireworks behind their eyes. Love is not some secret treasure waiting to be discovered. Its hard work and mutual trust and respect. It is something I absolutely do not have time for.

And it is obviously something that the married business owner who just grabbed my ass during an interview doesn't take seriously either. Frustrated, I walked briskly to my car parked outside the office of Jones and Stanford Law Offices where I had been interviewing for a receptionist position. Being a receptionist was not my dream job, but my rent was past due and my utilities were about to be shut off and I was running out of options. I hadn't been able to hold down a job since I'd graduated college two years ago. I just didn't know what I wanted to do. You're forced to pick a career while you are still a child, study for it for four years, and cross your fingers and pray that there's a market for you when you get out and that you are still even remotely interested in being a part of it for the next forty years of your life.

I, unfortunately, received neither once I graduated. Unwilling to move to the land of fake boobs and even faker people, otherwise known as Los Angeles, my degree in television was doing nothing for me in the small town in which I lived. So I followed one dead end after another trying to make ends meet.

Trying to control my growing anxiety I took a deep breath as I unlocked the door to my small Hyundai and climbed in the driver's seat. Leaning back against the headrest I stared up at the ceiling wondering how much longer the car would be mine if I continued to not be able to make payments. Deciding to try and push my problems aside for the night I started up the engine and pulled into the street. It was a short drive back to my apartment. I rolled my eyes as I passed by the local university and saw the students camped out on their lawns outside the frat houses and their off campus housing, already piss drunk at 6 in the afternoon.

But, of course, it was St. Patrick's Day. They were probably drunk by noon.

I wished I could be that carefree again. Its odd how when you're growing up all you want is to be older. To make your own rules. Run your own life. Then when you get there all you want is to go back again. To let someone else take care of you, and let them do all the worrying. Maybe that's why people are always jumping into relationships. The endless search for the selfish desire to be taken care of.

Maybe if I was concentrating less on the love lives of the rest of the world and paying more attention to the road I would have seen two of the drunk college students in question playing chicken with their SUVs in the apartment parking lot as I turned in. Maybe I would have swerved out of the way sooner as one of the SUVs gave up the game and veered out of the way of their friend's vehicle. But I didn't. I didn't even see it coming until it was far too late.

I remember the impact as the front of the SUV slammed into my door, pushing both of us clear across the parking lot. My head crashed into something hard right before everything went dark. When I woke up my entire body was in pain. There were flashing lights obscuring my vision and someone was speaking to me, asking my name, if I could feel this or that, if I remembered what had happened. Sleep was so much more pleasant than the loud noises and flashing lights. I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.

When they opened again I could feel my body moving, and rectangular fluorescent lights passed above me in quick succession. A face leaned down towards me.

"Alexandra?" the face said. I tried to put it in focus, but it was difficult.

"Mmm?" I managed to mumble.

"Alexandra, you're going to be all right. You were in a car accident. We're taking you into surgery now. Is there someone you want us to call?"

Call? Call who? I just want to go to sleep. I closed my eyes again for the last time.

Its soothing when your soul leaves your body. All of the pain just drifts away. As I floated out of my body I watched the doctors working feverishly over my body. It was mangled, that's for sure. No wonder I was dying. I should have been freaking out, looking at my lifeless body lying there on the operating table, but I wasn't. I just felt… at peace. When a warm white light appeared in the corner of the room I knew what was coming next, and I was happy. I wouldn't have to worry about bills there. I wouldn't have to worry about finding a job. I wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again.

I moved towards the light, stretching my arms out in front of me. I could almost feel the warmth spreading over my fingertips when something unexpected happened. It was like a rubber band around my waist had finally reached its breaking point. But instead of snapping, it jerked me backwards, away from the light, the peace, the calm. I flew, flew out of the hospital, across town, over fields. I was pulled far, far away. In a matter of seconds I had been torn from the light and jerked to a halt into the dark. I sailed into a warm mass that took my breath away. It felt electric as I passed through the mass and came to a final stop. I spun around to see the back of a man in a dark t-shirt and jeans. His hands came up to touch his chest.

"Whoa! Guys, I just felt something go straight through me," the man said, looking around. I recognized that face…

"No!" I cried in disbelief. The man jumped, and so did two other men behind him that I noticed for the first time.

"Dude, did you guys hear that?" One of the other men asked. They were all staring in my direction, though they didn't seem to see me.

"That came from right behind me," the man I had made contact with said. My mind was reeling. I knew these men. They were famous for investigating seemingly haunted locations. They even had their own television show. A television show I had just flown into the taping of. A television show I knew I had just become the subject of. Because for whatever reason the rubber band had taken me away from my final resting place. It had dragged me hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away from the hospital, for some unfathomable reason, straight to the side of Zak Bagans and his Ghost Adventures crew.

I… am… a ghost?

Fuck.