A.N - Hey, guess what guys? I've finished school! Seriously. No more exams, no more homework, no more nothing for eleven whole weeks. :D

Updates, anyone? :P

I hope you like this chapter. I do. It kinda wrote itself, so if it seems a bit jumpy that's probably why. But still, let me know what you think?

Chapter Eleven

"Everything will be okay."

"Mom? Mommy, I need you … No, I'm at the hospital … Nothing. Not with me. I'm in Carmel, mommy … Can you come and pick me up?"

Unbelievable. Surreal. Not Happening. Pinch Me. Wake Up!

I wish those words were true. I wish that this was all some horrible nightmare and that, instead of sitting on straight-backed and uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs, I'm actually back home in Brooklyn, sleeping in my single bed.

I just couldn't grasp the thought that Jesse was now dead. And really dead. Not the ghostly hanging around because of unfinished business kind of dead. It'd been two hours since we landed in California and as of yet I hadn't spotted Jesse glowing out of the corner of my eye. Glowing, at least, would have been better than the pale sickly colour that lingered beneath his deep tan; the ashen colour that implies that all life has left a person.

The doctors told me my boyfriend had died of a heart attack. A heart attack. Jesse is – was only twenty. Young, fit, healthy and with a slamming bod that felt wrong to be thinking about now, but still true. There were absolutely no signs whatsoever, no hints as to what was to come.

It's almost as if Jesse's heart had just stopped; gave up.

"Suzie?" My mom's frantic voice was quickly followed by the rushed click-clack of her shoes against the stark white sterile hall. Her steps were hurried and her eyes darted everywhere at once.

"I'm here, mom." My voice sounded weird. It sounded hoarse, like I'd been crying but I knew I hadn't shed a tear. I think I'm still in shock. It hasn't really hit me yet.

For me, dead never really means dead. People die – like my dad – but they come back later, hanging around and generally making mine and Paul's lives a pain in the backside.

Jesse was going to come back. He had unfinished business, damn it.

He had me. He'd left me.

"Oh, Suzie." My mother cooed, the maternal instinct snapping in her as she folded me into her embrace. "Sweetheart, it'll be ok."

I didn't even realise that I'd started crying – silent sobs that wracked my body and forcibly distorted my shoulders – until I felt my mom's blouse dampen against my cheek.

If I felt it, then my mom must have. But she said nothing; her hand instead continued it's steady smoothing motion over my hair as she kept repeating the same mantra I'd been saying to myself before she arrived:

"It'll be okay," she whispered. "Everything will be ok."

Andy drove us home. Mom stayed with me in the backseat and even when we arrived at the house, he left us alone. Mom led me straight into the house as Andy trailed behind lugging my suitcase behind him. Jesse's was still in the car.

They'd made up a room for me when they first moved here. The canopy bed, walls and carpeting were all clearly my mother's choice and made no impression on me as I glanced, unseeing, around the room.

Only as my eyes encountered the small alcove cut into the wall, a window seat, did my eyes focus again. I swear that I saw that familiar pearly sheen that belonged to ghosts and ghosts only, the eerie glow temporarily filling my vision as I whipped my head around and saw nothing there.

My mom caught my action and smiled sadly. "Get some rest, honey. You've had a difficult day."

She waited until I was lying under the comforter before leaving, and I was left alone to think all about my difficult day - difficult being the understatement of the century.

Not even two hours ago we were on the plane, happy, laughing. I can't believe I wasted half the flight sleeping. He'd known something was going to happen to him; He'd woken me up.

"Susannah. Querida. Wake up."

I could hear the whisper of his deep voice now.

"I wanted to spend time with you."

I shut my eyes against the memory. He really had known. And he didn't tell me.

Anger boiled within me, hot and potent, the feeling spreading along every nerve in my body and forcing my fist to clench in preparation of hitting something. Anything. The wall would do.

Punching the same spot until my knuckles were bloody, the wall was chipped and my arm was just about numb, I finally stopped with a loud sob wrenching from my lips.

Cradling my bruised and bloodied hand, I cried myself to sleep.

I woke up to the feeling of another presence in the room watching me. I know what it sounds like, and if I wasn't so depressed and my boyfriend of oh, just about two months, hadn't had a heart attack, I probably would have cracked some lame joke by now. As it was, I remained still, like I was still blissfully wrapped up in my world of unconsciousness, and waited.

The ghost was perfectly quiet, perfectly still; obviously, whoever it was had died a long time ago and had more than enough time to master their ghost powers. It wasn't even breathing like the newer ghosts are prone to do, forgetting that they don't need to breathe now that they're dead.

They were trying not to wake me up. Which, of course, had every single spider-sense in me tingling. They were up to something, the ghost that was haunting my room.

I focused on keeping my breathing steady and natural, as well as making sure my eyelids didn't flicker beneath the bright moonlight streaming in through my window. The ghost, as far as I could tell, was just watching me. (Which, by the way, ew, creepy much? This is so not my day).

The silence that engulfed the room amplified every sound, so when the ghost raised his hand, I heard the soft swish of something non-corporeal cutting through air. Next, there was a slight pressure on my cheek, the softest of touches. It felt as though someone was tracing a feather along my jaw line.

But the feelings it elicited in me were recognisable – only one person could cause my skin to shiver and tingle with electricity that way.

Gasping, I opened my eyes and caught the sharp movement of a ghostly hand rising to cover his – the ghost was definitely male – face before he dematerialised.

"Jesse." His name left my mouth almost involuntarily, as a whisper as my tired eyes sleepily glanced around the room, looking for The Ghost. Sighing, I gave up. "I need you so much right now Jesse."

I had closed my eyes and was on the brink of oblivion once again when I heard it, so faintly that I might have already been asleep, and was just imagining Jesse's voice as it whispered just five words.

"I need you too, querida."