Ashley

Salvation

I was somewhat torn between the realization that Spencer and I were probably only destined to be friends – great friends – and the relief that she wouldn't ever end up getting hurt when she found out months, perhaps even years, into a relationship, that I used to be a ruthless killer.

It was starting to get increasingly difficult not to fall for her, however. As the days slowly rolled by, I found myself getting more comfortable around, and more attached to the blonde. Our days of just sitting on the beach seemed to be something of the past, as we found ourselves exploring every inch of what San Francisco had to offer.

It was exhausting at first, since neither of us owned a car, but that was part of the fun. I kept fit – we both did – by walking most of the time, making use of local transport only when really necessary. Okay, mostly at the end of every day, when we were just too tired to make our way back to The Bay Area, or frighteningly as my mind processed it lately… home. And every time, as the sun set over the horizon, and we hugged goodbye on the beach, I felt my heart ache for her touch just a little bit more. For her smile to accompany me a little further, and her bright blue eyes to light up every dark crevice inside my soul just a little bit longer.

But like every other day, I let her go off into the sunset, convincing myself it was better for both of us. I was protecting her that way. If she didn't get too close to me, if she didn't find out what kind of monster I really was, that naïve belief she had that the world could still be saved, would forever sparkle in her eyes. And selfishly, I'd fallen in love with that sparkle. I'd fallen in love with her strength, her perseverance despite the closure of her girlfriend's death she still sought after, everything about her, really.

And every day, every moment spent with Spencer, despite hiding my deepening feelings from her, somehow started healing me from the inside. The more time we spent together and out of the house, the less I saw of my ghosts. Though obvious – and thankful – that they wouldn't follow me around in public, I came home some nights to find them gone altogether. It was unsettling it first, but once I got used to it, I was starting to believe that I had found my own cure against them.

Spencer.

It didn't make sense, but I wanted to believe it so badly that I skipped my next appointment with doctor Carlin, not even phoning in to lie about why I wouldn't make it. Though I came to hate the thought of self-medicating, since my little stint with the painkillers, I did stock up and took some over the counter nausea tablets, and painkillers – just for in case.

But nothing had changed over the past week as I got up from a deep, dreamless sleep; ready for another fun, careless day with Spencer, and found that my ghosts had made themselves scarce.

"You're awfully happy for someone who should be worried about their missing ghosts."

Right. Except for one.

I let out a frustrated sigh as I entered the kitchen, watching Kelly furiously rearranging the month-old wilted flowers, still on the island counter. It was seriously time for me to clean up a little. Because if there was one thing I was ready for, it was to invite Spencer over for dinner. I was a terrible cook, but I was willing to try anything just to impress the blonde.

I opened the fridge and scanned the contents, making a mental note of things I had to get when I went grocery shopping.

"Ignoring us isn't the wisest choice here, Ashley."

I spun on my heel, looking at Kelly incredulously. "Ignoring you?" I laughed. "You don't exist."

I was expecting the searing pain in my temples and onset of nausea. But I was prepared.

The attack on my system was sudden, but weak in comparison to previous times when I refused to acknowledge the existence of my ghosts. I felt the pain starting in my forehead, a dull aching that quickly spread through my skull. Bile rose up in my throat but I was able to hold everything in, smirking as Kelly glared at me, looking confused at my ability to withstand the punishment or whatever it was when I said they weren't real.

She squinted her eyes, calculating her next move carefully.

I wasn't sure if she'd figured out what I had done, but I was more than ready for whatever they wanted to throw my way.

Kelly finally huffed and turned her attention back to the wilted flowers, not at all fazed that I had just beaten them once again. "Can you at least get me something fresh? If you go to one of my shops they can get you white daisies - they're very nice. And your place is starting to smell."

I felt a sting as I listened to Kelly talk about flowers. As annoying as she was, she was still… dead. A would-be fiancé was probably still mourning her death, the same way family and friends were. And probably her staff too. I didn't know if I would be able to buy flowers from one of her shops, it was way too weird, but I was considering doing this small thing for her to keep her happy.

And to impress Spencer. All Kelly's arrangements turned into works of art despite the wilted flowers.

"Sure," I sighed aloofly, not wanting Kelly to realize that I was inadvertently giving in to her demands.

My attention was back to the lack of contents in my fridge, I didn't really care to make any more small talk or entertain my ghosts at all. Though I was very curious where the rest of the ghosts had opted to waste away their days, I wasn't going to ask. The longer they stayed away, the less I had to worry about the long-term effects of avoiding my visits with Doctor Carlin.

Who needed doctors and therapists when you had Spencer in your life?

"Okay, favorite color, favorite food, favorite animal, and… hmm… favorite destination. Go."

I laughed as Spencer started with her twenty questions, always coming up with random stuff. I wasn't sure whether she was trying to get me to remember, or trying to make new memories, but either way, I loved when she did this even though I protested with eye-rolls and sarcastic jabs.

I stared up at the movement of the clouds, slightly drunken by the slow rotation of the merry-go-round we'd stumbled upon in a park not too far from The Bay Area. I was hyper aware of Spencer's head close to mine in the center, lying flat on our backs, her feet dangling off the sides and occasionally kicking onto the ground to keep us spinning around and around. We were spending a lot of time in parks lately; sometimes just strolling along winding pathways, other times feeding ducks, and on sunny days like today, we just let our inner child take over and enjoyed whatever the parks had to offer.

While it was relaxing and freeing, I couldn't help but wonder with longing if I had done this as a child. Whether I had friends who had gone to parks with me, whether I had even gone to parks at all.

Spencer made it all seem so easy, as if reliving a happy childhood was supposed to be normal and ingrained into your memory next to breathing. There were moments when she forgot that I had no recollection of my past, including the knowledge how to do simple things such as sit in a swing, or balance on a seesaw. Not that it was difficult to grasp, given my mysterious extensive military training, but at first sight I had no idea what the jungle gyms even were.

But the pretty blonde was intuitive, and soon caught on that my memory problems ran deeper than either of us could ever grasp.

And that's why, for the past two days, we found ourselves building silly memories that didn't previously exist, and it was childlike and heartwarming and fun, especially with Spencer. She could easily have been that childhood best friend I could have fallen for. And probably never told her how I felt about her and watched painfully as she walked down the aisle with someone else.

It was a disturbing thought; for a fleeting second it almost felt real, but as usual, the intuitive blonde was there to catch me in my fall.

"Ash? Where did you go?"

My eyes focused on her, and it took a second to realize that Spencer had moved, perched up on one elbow, blocking my view of the clouds as she stared down at me with a mixture of concern and anticipation.

She treaded lightly, as if testing the water. "Did you… did you remember something?"

I closed my eyes and remembered the faceless girl of my dreams, the faceless girl I saw that day in the music store. Did I lose the girl of my dreams in my previous life to someone else? Is that why I decided to have my memory wiped and became a coldhearted killer instead?

The thought was daunting, and it hurt more than I realized.

I let out a sigh and was caught off guard when I opened my eyes again, staring right into the nervous but incredibly beautiful eyes of the girl who'd been sticking band-aids all over my broken soul lately.

I swallowed away the lump in my throat caused by possible memories, and smiled, realizing I had some answers for her. "Blue." It was also a deviation tactic, and I hoped she wouldn't push.

Spencer frowned, obviously confused, but a smile soon formed on her lips at the realization that I was finally giving in to her incessant twenty questions.

"Blueberry pancakes, fish, and for now, San Francisco would have to do."

It was new favorites, but it was something I didn't have before. Before Spencer, I didn't have anything. The ghosts didn't count.

Her smile was beautiful and contagious, and she relaxed with a chuckle, but she didn't lie back down as I thought she would.

Instead, her gaze remained on me, and I felt butterflies in all the wrong places. Because we were just friends, right?

Right?

"Your nose crinkles when you smile like that," she observed quietly. She was still smiling but her expression had changed from happy to something else, something I couldn't really place.

A strand of hair fell from her tied back hair into her face, and without thinking, I reached up and gently tucked it behind her ear. When the corners of her mouth lifted the slightest bit more, I kept my hand in place, my heart hammering hard against my chest as I contemplated my next move.

We're just friends.

But she looked at me differently, there was something in her eyes, something that wasn't there when she said she wasn't ready. Something that wasn't there right before she made the comment about my smile.

I swallowed hard, fighting against my self-deprecating demons that I would just end up hurting her, but the way Spencer was looking at me was all it took for me to lower my hand from her ear to gently cup her cheek. I held my breath as I did so, ready for the rejection, but it never came.

Spencer leaned into my touch and closed her eyes, releasing a soft sigh. "I think I really like you, Ashley," she whispered, almost as if I wasn't supposed to hear it.

But I did, and my racing heart grabbed for the emergency brake, stopping abruptly at Spencer's declaration. Just the mere thought that there was any possibility, any possibility at all, sent me into a blind panic. I really liked Spencer too, much more than I would ever admit, and despite how much I wanted her to like me back the same way, it suddenly scared me.

I was a killer. I was a terrible person. I didn't deserve someone like Spencer liking me. I was terrified of hurting her.

But when she opened her eyes again – probably because I'd turned mute – those beautiful eyes turned me to mush and I couldn't help but give her another nose-crinkling smile, and confirmation that I really liked her too.

We chuckled at the irony of our childish declarations on a merry-go-round in the park of all places, but I knew I'd remember and cherish this day forever.

"Would you like to come over for dinner at my place sometime? I'm a terrible cook but I promise to try and put something nice together. And then you can twenty-question me to your heart's content." I had to keep the mood light in fear of bursting out in joyful tears that there was someone on this planet who could actually like me. Well, this version of me.

Spencer's smile grew even wider and she nodded against my hand. "I'd love to."

I felt the butterflies again, and for the first time since I became aware of just being, I felt happy. Extremely happy.

I was a nervous wreck.

All the happiness I'd felt two days ago had disappeared, and I had turned into a moody, dangerous, wreck.

Kelly was the only ghost who stuck around and disappeared when the doorbell rang, much to my annoyance but also relief, I was secretly thankful that she had actually taken the time and made something of the fresh daisies I'd gotten her.

Though I didn't reveal that I'd be bringing home a date, Kelly must have sensed by the way I was cleaning and cooking and cleaning even more.

Every recipe I've tried so far had turned into a disaster, and after a full day of trying my hand at the stove, I decided to get something at a restaurant and throw away the containers.

But Spencer was far too observant for my liking. She chuckled the moment I opened the front door, admitting that she knew we were having Jimmy's for dinner, and that I should toss aside the apron because it looked better off me.

I was crestfallen for a second, but when she stepped inside and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on my lips, her hands sneakily reaching behind my back to untie the apron, I literally swooned, and forgot all about my terrible skills in the kitchen.

I had other skills to make up for that.

And I did. My hands reached to cup her face, thumbs on her cheeks while the rest of my fingers deftly massaged the back of her neck, and I returned her kiss with as much passion as I possibly could.

As wonderful as it felt, it was also strange, because I had never kissed anyone like that before.

When Spencer sighed and relaxed into me, all brewing thoughts of too much, too soon left my mind and I kissed her even harder.

I wasn't sure how long we just stood there, connected like that, but when we finally came up for air my knees felt weak and the rest of me, well, giddy.

"Well, hello to you too," Spencer chuckled teasingly, her cheeks flushed after our little make-out session.

I had no idea what came over me, but it felt so right, so normal. I stepped back and smirked, taking Spencer's hand to lead her into my condo and give her a quick tour.

"It's nothing big, really. I just sleep here, basically," I explained, as if Spencer wasn't aware that I spent day in and day out with her.

She looked around in admiration, taking in the lounge area, open planned kitchen, and followed as I showed her where the guest bathroom was and then my bedroom. I had locked the study, just in case.

We were seated at the kitchen island nurturing some expensive red wine I'd grabbed while at the restaurant, when Spencer's eyes fell on Kelly's flower rings – or whatever that was. Her breath hitched and for a moment her face went pale, and I felt my heart drop.

"Where did you get this?" Spencer croaked out, looking up at me, her eyes tearing up as she gingerly touched the flowers.

My mind went blank. I had no idea what the meaning behind flowers were, but I had a suspicion that daisies probably meant something to Spencer. And possibly her late girlfriend.

The thought made me feel sick to the stomach.

"I uh…" I stared at the strange contraption Kelly had created, faltering over lies that wouldn't sound too far-fetched. "There's a florist shop nearby… something to do with chains or something?"

It wasn't that I didn't pay attention – I just couldn't get myself to think about it as I went into the very place where I cold-heartedly shot Kelly. I only went there because she insisted she wanted the daisies from her shop.

If I hadn't thought Spencer was already pale, she just lost another shade of color, and almost looked ghostly. I visibly flinched at the thought, and how devastating this night was turning out and it hadn't even really started yet.

"I'm sorry, Spence… I didn't – was this… I mean, the flowers … " The words stumbled out of me, and I felt this incredible sadness wash over me as I watched the girl in front of me come undone.

Of course the flowers meant something.

Spencer shook her head, as if trying to shake away the memories, but it was way too late. The tears were already running, the pain already dug up from deep down where she'd tried to bury it. And her girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, Ash, it's just… these are daisy-chains. It was just a thing… and it just, I wasn't ready," Spencer apologized, wiping furiously at the tears.

I felt terrible for so many reasons. First of all, obviously, for having bought these stupid flowers Kelly insisted I get, and for feeling slightly jealous that Spencer still held so much sadness and so many memories of her dead girlfriend.

I almost choked up at my selfishness, and stepped around the counter to wrap her up in a tight hug to hide my narcissistic emotions. It made me feel only worse when Spencer clung tightly to me, her body shaking as she sobbed through the pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Spence," I whispered against her neck, my hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

We stayed like that for a long time, and when her sobs finally subsided, I pulled back and wiped the excess tears from Spencer's cheeks with my thumbs. "Can I get you anything? A strong JD?"

It pulled a chuckle from her, but Spencer nodded, and I felt relieved, if only for a second, because at least there was one thing I could do right, one thing I could do to cheer her up just a little.

I pushed the wine glasses aside and placed two tumblers on the counter, filling it with ice and Jack Daniels without much effort. I needed the strong drink as much as Spencer did.

We both swallowed the first round down within seconds.

I raised my brows, surprised that Spencer could hold her alcohol so well, and pointed towards the bottle, offering a second round.

It didn't take long for the second round to become a third, and a forth, and by the end of the bottle, Spencer and I were both seated on the floor in the lounge area, supported by a couch holding us up, in fact, that was the only support holding us up – because in this moment, we failed to do so for each other while deliberately asking each other painful twenty-questions.

I was vaguely aware of my shortcomings to be at least a good friend for Spencer, but it was soon forgotten when she held up her glass and asked for more.

I stumbled to the kitchen, not even sure why I had that bottle to start with, but surprisingly found another in the cupboard below the island counter. I cheered loudly, unaware of my drunken state, and sauntered back happily so we could drown our sorrows even further.

But by the time my back hit the couch, keeping me from falling over, Spencer was passed out, her legs stretched out in front of her, one hand on the empty tumbler and the other slumped beside her, her head tilted back onto the couch. Her face was still pale but her cheeks were heavily flushed after all the alcohol, and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me at how funny she looked. And sad, so incredibly sad.

It was a sobering thought, and I realized what a terrible person I really was. We went from kissing in the door to drinking ourselves into a stupor. We haven't even had dinner, and what was supposed to be a romantic get-to-know-each-other evening, had turned out into a drunk-fest. I scolded myself under my breath and contemplated for a moment what to do.

There was no way I'd let Spencer go home in this state – I'd feel too bad waking her anyway – and I couldn't exactly leave her the way she was. I cringed at the thought of the ghosts finding her tucked in on the sofa, so I was only left with one other option.

She was surprisingly light and had we been sober this would have been very romantic, carrying her to my room – to my bed.

My heart was hammering hard against my chest again as I gently laid her down, removed her shoes and pulled down her jeans, quickly replacing it with a pair of boxers from my drawer. It was mid- summer so I knew she wouldn't get cold, but I pulled the plush comforter up to her chin anyway.

The butterflies returned to my stomach as I stood back and took a moment to stare at Spencer, sleeping so peacefully, in my clothes, in my bed, and it tugged at my heart, hard. It felt familiar, safe, without the need for sex to get through the night, and I could see myself holding her while she slept, cuddling into the warmth her slim body offered. I imagined for a fleeting moment waking up with her hair splayed all over her face in the morning, her head tucked underneath my chin, an arm tossed loosely around my waist.

It felt bittersweet, and real, as if I'd been there before, experienced that before. The faceless girl of my dreams came to mind and suddenly I shared the sadness Spencer had felt all night at the loss of a loved one.

I sighed, trying to suppress the sadness, and left some water and painkillers on the nightstand before making my way to the lounge with a pillow and extra blanket.

Maybe one day…

Salvation – Gabrielle Aplin