Twenty Minutes of Darkness

She stands before him, pale like a ghost.

"Leave me alone," he says.

At first she doesn't say anything but after a few seconds her lips move.

"You are alone."

And then he is staring at a wall, conversing with no one in particular.

xxxxx

He's watching TV. But he's not. She's perched on the sofa next to him, painting her nails. He looks at her as she concentrates on the task, and finds it strange that he doesn't have a head ache.

"I hate you," He says to her.

"You're lying." She says without looking at him.

"No, I'm acting."

And she looks up at him, countenance unreadable. He can see the sun behind her head and it freaks him out.

xxxxx

"Why are you haunting me?" He asks one night, as they just got home. She's been following him everywhere.

"I'm not, Lawrence." She sighs and her voice sounds strong and irritated and more alive than she will ever be again. "I'm not a ghost. I'm just a figment of your imagination. I'm from inside your head." She smiles at him, but there's no joy, only threat and pale lips the colour of blood.