Chapter Six

There was a small silence after my rather blunt question, there seemed to be nothing else making sound apart from my own racing heart and my shallow breathing, caused by the suspense Sylvie had since left me to wallow in. I look up at her again, and she smiles, her lips curving yet failing to show any feeling other than sorrow; how bizarre, yet I can't help but share the emotion from her glances.

"It is, I'm afraid, more a case of why I died, that we need to discuss, Dougie." Sylvie allowed her tone to break from its previously monotonous frame. I nodded for her to continue, yet there was that silence again whilst she fiddled with the lace of the corset she wore. "I was very popular amongst my class when I met Danny." She finally spoke, something different in the way she said the stranger's name, yet she seemed very familiar with its sound.

"Who's Danny?" I interrupted; unaware she was merely just pausing to gather her words for correct formation. I continue, still oblivious, ignoring the slight look of irritation in my friend's eyes. I point blindly behind me, "Is that him?"

With this one question, I single-handedly break Sylvie's composure. I take a small jerk of her head as a nod and the sobs erupt again. I've never been good with comforting the living, let alone the dead, so you can imagine my alarm when her grip around me tightens. I feel the faintest icy touch upon my cheek, and I realise that her lips have made contact with my skin. I feel myself blush and I'm already somewhat shy when she does it again.

I'm unsure by now, as to what this means. I've done nothing to deserve such a token of affection, nor have I asked or made any hint as to whether I want one or not. Yet there she goes again, small kisses planted over my face, then finally there's the clincher.

Her lips push to mine. We kiss. A peculiar feeling rushes up and down my spine continuously as she remains in contact. My fingertips tingle and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up to attention, yet I know this is wrong. Sylvie is my friend, she is my dead friend. There's an obvious line that I shouldn't be crossing here.

Yet, why does it feel like I've done this before, when I know for a fact I've never held another girls hand before this moment. This isn't new to me, yet I should be feeling some kind of virginity is being broken. And yet, I feel comfortable and as if...

It ends.

I watch as she pulls away sheepishly, untangling herself from my arms that I've somehow weaved around her. I feel myself frown, confused and still very surprised at the turn of events.

"So, is that... him?" I repeat, struggling with forming the right syllables in the right places.
"Yes. And no." She replied simply, still smiling. "He and I, are merely imprints of who we were."
"But that is the guy though, right? That's Danny..." I attempt at setting the record straight, although I find the matter exceeds all my expectations when she answers me.

"Yes, but so are you."