Only vengeful spirits with a deep well of hatred could take lives directly.
Just then, a ghostly figure with wild, tangled hair emerged from the wardrobe. She whispered in my ear, "Did you know? Your husband used to sneak off to the bathroom while you were asleep to make phone calls. He'd tell her how he was going to be rich soon and how they'd be together."
I couldn't sleep.
It turned out that even ghosts could suffer from insomnia.
Ethan and Sabrina were sound asleep in my bed, their arms wrapped around each other, clothes strewn across the floor.
The sight made me snicker bitterly.
The man I had once trusted with my life was now nothing but a traitor.
During the year and a half of our marriage, Ethan never gave me a reason to doubt him. He surprised me with gifts, remembered every single anniversary, cooked for me, and handled the household chores. When I struggled with my depression, he would hold me tight during my breakdowns, letting me cry and scream until I had nothing left to give.
Over time, I started to get better.
I even stopped taking my meds.
So, when I found myself lying dead at the base of our apartment building, I couldn't understand what had pushed me to jump.