Disclaimer- Everything Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer

This story is being co-written with the truly amazing author melonjane and it is my first collaboration so I'm very excited about it.

This plot and the wonderful prologue were thought up by melonjane so please go to her profile and give her all the reviews she deserves

APOV

If I had known that it was going to be this hard to get rid of his memory, I would've dumped his sorry ass months before his bloody accident.

But no, the retard had to go and get behind the wheel of a car after he just snorted humongous amounts of cocaine.

The crash was sickening, completely wrecked. You couldn't even recognise the car when it hit the tree.

At least he died quickly. God forbid anyone from sitting in that for too long.

And at the funeral, when I had thought that whole 'soul goes to heaven and body returned to earth' shit had happened, the ass turns up next to me, grinning like he hadn't been in car accident and had won some marathon.

And the freakish thing is that no one else saw him. Only I could. I had ignored his presence the entire funeral, until the point where I was about to go bananas at him.

But you know, he just wouldn't back off, would he? No, he had to go a fling his arms in my face, whisper my name in my ear and hug me around the middle. The fucker.

He didn't feel like a fucking ghost at all. He was all jelly-like and squishy, which made me squirm in my seat and attract stares from family and friends.

They thought I was going crazy from grief. Oh boy, were they wrong. I was going crazy from annoyance, if that's even possible.

And James just wouldn't take the hint to back off until we were alone.

Even I looked at myself weirdly. In the mirror, as I had passed it the morning after the funeral, I noticed something different. I seemed that little bit paler, and that little bit thinner. James was right behind me when I was staring at myself, and he had that idiotic grin on his face again.

"What's the matter?" he had asked, and I was just about ready to punch his jelly head in.

I had said nothing in response, just glared at him as I left my house. As I got in the car, he had appeared in the passenger seat, and I was about to go crazy.

"What do you want?" I had almost screamed at him.

His grin had fallen, replaced by a dark look. "Baby, you're mine."

I was so tempted to ram the passenger's side into a tree. He had chatted on about nothing in particular, and like he hadn't turned sour when I had almost screamed.

Little did I know what really went on in the head of James – dead or alive.

REVIEW