No matter how much he moved away from her grasp, the door became farther and farther away. “Who are you?” he asked again.
She finally reached him and clutched his tee shirt, staining it with her blood. He closed his eyes, unable to take it any longer. He could feel himself fall backwards to the ground.
As he hit the hard wooden floor, he heard her whisper, “My name is Christina Long.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Nicky asked, standing over Richard’s naked body.
Disoriented, he opened his eyes, startled by her presence. He looked around the room and then down at his exposed self.
“Why are you in here? And why the hell are you naked?” she asked, chuckling.
Suddenly he remembered why he was in there. Staring at the now open door, he sat up on the bed, panicked. “Did you see her?”
“See who?”
“The woman. Did you see her on the landing?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “Please tell me you’re not talking about that bloody ghost again.”
“Of course I am!” he snapped, getting off the bed. “I saw her! She was sitting, plain as day, on our bed!” He walked over to the door, barging past Nicky in the process. “I’m not making it up! And I’m not crazy, I saw her! I swear to God!” He stepped out onto the landing and pointed to their bedroom. “She was right there, looking straight at me!”
Nicky said nothing.
“Are you listening to me, Nicky?” he asked. “I saw her clear as day. As clear as you are right now!”
“Look, calm down, you’re scaring me.”
“You’re bloody scared,” he barked, in disbelief. “How d’ya think I feel? I just saw a dead woman sitting on our bed—the bed we sleep on every night!”
Walking up to him, she glanced ahead at their bedroom. “There’s nothing there. Are you sure you didn’t dream it?”
Turning to her, his body gripped with frustration, he said, “Don’t patronize me, Nic. It wasn’t a dream. The only reason I was in there and passed out was because I tried to get away from her. She followed me over to the door. She even knocked on it, for Christ’s sake!”
He started to take in deep, controlled breaths to calm himself. “Look,” he said, more settled. “Have you ever seen me so serious about something? Do I look like I’m bullshitting you?”
She forced a smile. “Well, it’s hard to take you seriously when you’re standing in front of me naked.”
He walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. “I’m not in the mood for jokes, Nic,” he replied, stepping back onto the landing.
She shook her head with a look of annoyance. “I’m sorry, but it’s difficult for me to take you seriously when you’ve just told me that the previous owner’s ghost chased you across the landing.”
As he was about to reply, he paused for a second; something had occurred to him. “I don’t think it was the previous owner. I think it was someone else. Someone called Christina Long.”
“Who’s Christina Long?” she asked, clearly humoring him.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She told me her name in my dream.”
Instead of busting out with laughter, she snapped, “Look, this ends right here, right now! You sound like a lunatic! There must be something wrong with you. Maybe it was from the fall you had at work or something.”
“It has nothing to do with what happened at work. My mind is fine. I just want you to believe me. Look, I admit that some of the other things could be explained, but this…”
She didn’t reply—she couldn’t. Everything had already been said a hundred times before. The two just stood staring at each other in silence, until Richard finally stormed across the landing, into the bedroom, his fists up as if ready to fight someone. When he saw that the room was empty, he dropped his hands and raided his cupboard for clean clothes, leaving Nicky still standing, glaring at him, but still with a clear glimmer of concern in her eyes.
After he had dressed, he stomped down the stairs, out of sight.