The Ghost Who Died For Him

Three years ago, I sacrificed myself to donate my corneas to my blind lover, Elliot Moon.

To spare him the guilt, I had my family tell him that I had abandoned him for a new life.

But the credit for my sacrifice was stolen by another woman, Dolly.

Convinced that I was still alive, Elliot became obsessed with hunting me down and dragging me back to donate my heart to cure Dolly’s heart disease.

He broke both of my brother’s hands. He drove my mother to her death.

But I was already dead, reduced to a ghost, unable to do a single thing.

That was until his subordinate uncovered the truth: "Mr. Moon, Ms. Kayla died three years ago to save you."

Chapter 1

Tonight, my brother Jaron’s agonizing screams tore through the silence of the old warehouse.

The sound ripped through my spectral form, even though I could no longer feel a physical body.

This cruel echo felt like a return to another night three years ago, when I sacrificed myself to save the very man who was now destroying my family.

Jaron’s cries shredded the silence, as if threatening to shatter this empty cavern entirely.

My heart had long since stopped beating, yet it still ached with a pain that far surpassed any physical wound.

Elliot Moon stood over him, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his impeccably tailored suit trousers.

Faced with the gruesome scene before him, his posture seemed far too relaxed.

"Where is she, Jaron?" Elliot's voice was low and gravelly, devoid of the warmth I once knew. "Stop making things hard on yourself. Tell me where Kayla is, and all of this ends."

He gestured to the group of men surrounding Jaron.

A burly man in a dark uniform delivered another vicious kick to Jaron.

Jaron collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing. He whimpered, the sound muffled by the skewed rag gagging his mouth.

My younger brother, a concert pianist whose hands were his very lifeblood, was now being brutalized.

Jaron struggled, his head weakly hitting the cold concrete floor. He tried to speak around the gag, his eyes wide with pain and despair, locking tightly onto Elliot.

He was mumbling my name, I knew it.

"Kayla, Kayla, she's gone."

Elliot laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound that scraped against my ghostly ears.

"Still playing the victim, Jaron? Don't insult my intelligence." His words felt like a branding iron pressing against my phantom skin.

"We used to be friends, Jaron," Elliot continued, a trace of mock nostalgia in his tone. "Your mother practically raised me after my parents died. And this is how you repay me? By protecting someone who abandoned me?"

His words dripped with venom, sending a chill through my nonexistent spine. He was using our shared past as a weapon, twisting it into something unrecognizable.

Elliot nodded to one of his thugs. "He’s not cooperating. Give him some encouragement." He issued the order with careless indifference.

My ghostly hands clenched into helpless fists.

I wanted to scream, to fight back, to protect my brother.

But I was nothing more than a wisp of smoke, a trapped spectator in this horrific reality.

My pleas went unheard; my rage went unseen. I could only watch, a powerless witness to the destruction of my family.

Despite the excruciating pain, Jaron kept struggling. With pleading eyes, he hoarsely whispered my name.

"Kayla... she's gone. She's dead."

Suddenly, a sharp meow pierced the air.

A stray kitten, startled by the sudden commotion, darted out from behind some crates. Elliot’s gaze immediately snapped to the animal, a vicious glint in his eyes. He stepped forward, grabbed the trembling little creature by the scruff of its neck, and gave a sharp twist. With a sickening crack, the cat's neck snapped instantly.

The cat's body went limp.

"Don't try to lie to me, Jaron," Elliot said, his voice dangerously soft as he tossed the dead cat aside. "I know Kayla is alive. She will come back for Dolly. Otherwise, your precious assets are going to suffer again." He pointed at Jaron's hands.

A jolt of electricity surged through Jaron’s body. His back arched, his muscles spasming violently. A hoarse scream erupted from deep within his throat, loud and ragged, finally knocking the tattered gag loose.

The faint smell of burning flesh briefly hung in the air.

My ethereal body convulsed in empathetic agony.

"Still won't talk?" Elliot took a step closer, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Are you worried that once I find Kayla, I'll take revenge on her? Hmph, a traitor isn't worth my deliberate revenge."

He dropped to one knee, his face inches from Jaron’s contorted features. "You say she's dead? You think I'd believe that? She took the coward's way out. She ran away because she couldn't face me after what she did."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "But I will find her. Dolly needs her. Dolly needs a new heart, and Kayla is the only match."

He stood back up, his tone hardening once more. "She may have left me, but she can't run from her obligations."

"Dolly saved my life, and Kayla owes us a debt. Therefore, she owes Dolly."

"Tell me where she is, Jaron, or your hands will pay the price."

My mind was in chaos, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of this twisted reality.

My beloved Elliot, the man I had willingly given my life for, had turned into such a monster.

I remembered the day we first met. We were awkward, shy students, our eyes meeting across a crowded lecture hall.

Our love story used to be so vibrant, filled with laughter and whispered promises of forever.

He was my moon, and I was his guiding star.

Then, the accident happened. His vision went completely black, his entire world swallowed by darkness.

I couldn't bear to see him suffer; I couldn't stand the despair in his voice as he faced a life of blindness.

I searched everywhere for possible solutions, looking into various experimental treatments.

When I found out about the cornea transplant surgery, I didn't hesitate.

I secretly signed the papers, making my family and my best friend, Christian, promise to tell Elliot that I had left him to start a new life in Europe.

It was so he wouldn't be burdened with heavy guilt, so he could let go of my sacrifice and move forward.

I believed it was the highest form of love.

I remember my last breath, the overwhelming sense of peace, followed by the shock of awakening consciousness—I had become a soul, tethered to the world I had just left behind.

I saw my body, lifeless yet intact, and then the blurry sights of the operating room as they removed my corneas.

I saw Elliot's eyes, once clouded, slowly beginning to perceive light again.

I was so happy for him. But I could never laugh with him again.

In a corner he knew nothing about, I was dead.

Later, Elliot's childhood friend, Dolly Haynes, moved in.

Dolly came from a poor background and had always coveted the spot by Elliot's side.

She was there, whispering lies and twisting the truth into his ear as he gradually recovered. She took the credit for the anonymous cornea donation, spinning a tale of selfless devotion, painting herself as Elliot's savior.

Vulnerable and grateful, Elliot believed her. He saw her as his light, his redemption.

Meanwhile, my sacrifice, my deep and desperate love, became nothing but fodder for her opportunistic lies.

Three years later, Dolly’s rare heart condition brought upon this nightmare.

She wanted my heart.

Blinded by Dolly's deception and his own grief-stricken obsession, Elliot was utterly convinced I was still alive, selfishly hiding away somewhere.

To find me, he was willing to destroy my entire family.

"She's dead, Elliot," Jaron choked out, his voice hoarse and laced with agony, yet unyielding. "She's been dead for three years. Torturing us like this is pointless." He coughed, then his body went limp.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, a cold fire burning within them. "You think I'd believe a lie like that? After everything that's happened? You think I'm that stupid?"

He suddenly reached out, grabbed a fistful of Jaron's hair, and yanked his head back.

"She's out there somewhere right now, living a new life, while Dolly is waiting to die. I'm going to make her pay."

He let go of Jaron's hair, letting his head slam heavily against the concrete floor. The impact echoed through the cavernous warehouse.

The cruel irony tore at my heart.

I was right in front of him, existing as a ghost, silently witnessing his descent into madness. He searched for me so desperately, yet remained entirely blind to me, unmoved even when the truth was staring him in the face.

"Wake him up," Elliot ordered, devoid of emotion. "He needs to understand the gravity of the situation. If he won't tell me where Kayla is, maybe his mother will."

His words hit me like a sledgehammer, bringing a fresh surge of terror.

Mom. Barbara. She was already so frail, her heart broken over my supposed abandonment.

This would completely destroy her.

Elliot turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing behind him, leaving Jaron at the mercy of his men.

My last sight was of Jaron's broken body, his eyes wide, brimming with tears, his lips still soundlessly forming my name.

My brother, my dear, brilliant brother, was utterly broken, and all I could do was watch.

My love for Elliot had pushed my family into this purgatory.

Elliot, don't do this, I'm begging you.