Ghost

The Ghost's Dilemma

Emily's POV:

The night air was cool against my face, the wind whipping through my hair as I tore down the empty stretch of road. My bike roared beneath me, the engine's growl matching the chaos inside my head. The city lights blurred around me, transforming into streaks of color, but all I could focus on was the road ahead-always the road ahead.

I leaned into a turn, feeling the tires grip the asphalt, the familiar thrill shooting through me. But tonight, that thrill felt hollow. The usual rush that came with riding, with the freedom of it all, was tainted by something darker-something I couldn't shake, no matter how fast I went or how hard I pushed.

The memories hit me when I least expected them. Jake's laugh, that carefree grin he'd flash whenever he caught me staring at him. The way he used to call me "his girl" like it was the most natural thing in the world. I could hear his voice in my head, guiding me through that first ride, teasing me when I was too scared to take the turns at speed.

"Come on, Emily," he'd say with that lopsided smile. "You've got this. I'm right here."

But he wasn't here anymore. And that was the problem, wasn't it? I'd lost him. And with him, I'd lost a part of myself I didn't know how to get back.

I slowed down as I approached the edge of the city, the roar of the bike giving way to the silence of the night. There was a spot here-a quiet overlook where we used to come together. Jake loved it, the way the city lights stretched out below, the world seeming small and distant. It was our spot, our escape from everything.

I parked the bike and killed the engine, the sudden stillness almost deafening after the rush of the ride. I pulled off my helmet, letting the cool air hit my face as I stared out at the city. It was the same view, the same place, but everything felt different now.

I sank down onto the grass, my legs suddenly too heavy to hold me up. I could feel the tears threatening, the lump in my throat that I'd been trying to ignore for weeks. But out here, alone, I didn't have to hold it together. There was no one to see me fall apart.

The tears came slowly at first, hot and angry, as if they'd been waiting for this moment. And then all at once, they were pouring down my face, choking sobs that I couldn't stop. I buried my face in my hands, trying to muffle the sound, but it was no use. The grief was too much, too big to keep inside anymore.

"Jake," I whispered, the name slipping out like a prayer. "Why did you leave me?"

The silence that followed was unbearable. I waited for something-anything. A sign, a feeling, some sort of connection to him. But there was nothing. Just the cold night and the distant hum of the city below.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to have more time, more rides, more everything. I'd given up riding safely because what was the point? The only person who ever made me want to be careful, who made me believe there was something worth living for, was gone. And the person who took him from me? He was rotting in a cell, while I was out here, barely holding on.

I thought about the person I'd become-the Ghost. The reckless, fearless rider who tore through the streets with no regard for the rules. The girl who raced without a care, who didn't stop for anything or anyone. But was that really who I was? Or was it just the mask I wore to cover up the pain? The truth was, I didn't even know anymore.

I wanted to believe that this life, this wild, untamed freedom, was enough. But standing here, in the place that held so many memories of him, I couldn't lie to myself. It wasn't enough. And it would never be enough.

I thought about the racers who admired me, who saw me as this fearless leader, someone to look up to. They didn't know the truth-that every time I took off my helmet, I was just a scared girl running from a pain that wouldn't let go. They didn't know how many nights I'd spent here, in this spot, hoping that somehow, Jake would come back to me. They didn't know that every race, every reckless stunt, was my way of trying to feel something-anything-that wasn't this crushing grief.

But Jake wasn't coming back. And I was still here, trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do without him. The truth was, I didn't have a plan. I didn't have a reason. All I had was the bike and the road, and the desperate need to keep moving, because stopping hurt too damn much.

The thought of giving it all up crossed my mind-of walking away from the Ghost, from the races, from this life I'd built on the edge of destruction. But what else was there for me? My parents had abandoned me before I even had a chance to know them. I didn't have siblings, no one to ground me, no one to pull me back from the edge. And the one person who made me feel like I belonged somewhere was gone.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the memories away, but they kept coming, flooding my mind. The way Jake used to hold me, the way he'd look at me like I was the only person in the world that mattered. I'd never had that before him, and I knew I'd never have it again.

Maybe that was why I kept riding. Because as long as I was out there, as long as I was pushing the limits, I didn't have to think about what I'd lost. I didn't have to feel the emptiness that was swallowing me whole.

But now, sitting here, I realized something that scared me more than anything: I was losing myself too. I was becoming someone I didn't recognize, someone Jake wouldn't recognize. And I didn't know how to stop it.

I sat there for a long time, letting the tears come and go, letting the grief wash over me. The city lights flickered below, and the night wore on, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. Not yet.

When I finally stood up, the weight of my grief still clung to me, but there was something else there too-a small, fragile hope. Maybe I wasn't ready to give up the Ghost just yet. But I wasn't ready to let go of Jake either. I didn't know what that meant or what I was supposed to do next. But for the first time in a long time, I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to find myself again. Even if it meant facing the darkness head-on.

And with that, I turned back to my bike, the familiar weight of my helmet in my hands. I had no idea where the road would take me next, but I knew one thing for sure: I wasn't done fighting. Not yet.