Ghost Behind You

1.29. In Life

August 10, 2006

Before fully regaining consciousness, her eyes stared blankly at the sky.

Or what she thought was the sky—it was actually a black void, dotted with faint stars and a hazy moon. Strange, twisted branches framed the void, partially obscuring her view. At first, she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing, or where she was.

It felt like waking from a nightmare, still caught in its terrifying grip. The cold, itchy grass beneath her back heightened her discomfort, especially from the waist down. The sky above seemed round, like she was at the bottom of a well, but the branches and grass told her she was lying in a forest. Somewhere in the distance, a crow let out a raspy caw that echoed through the night, though she couldn't see it in the darkness. As the crow's cry faded, the familiar chirping of insects surrounded her, and the smell of wet leaves and the forest after rain filled her nose. Her nightclothes were damp with dew, clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

Her shoulders and arms were completely immobilized. She lay stiff and rigid on her back, unable to move, not even to roll over. Nearby, several sharp, dried branches jutted toward her like arrows, ready to pierce her if she moved too suddenly.

She didn't want to think about why she was here. Her memory felt shattered, like broken pottery scattered in all directions. From those fragments, she pieced together the face of a man and the sound of his heavy breathing close to her ear. Another fragment revealed her own name, which she whispered to herself in her mind:

Lana... Chao... Adams...

Yes, that was her name. She was sure of it. She forced herself to remember more—she was twenty years old, had run away from home two years ago, and had traveled the world with her beloved cat, Ony. She survived using her unique abilities, living as a Yao witch and helping people communicate with spirits. Though she didn't fully understand her life's purpose, the trust and reliance people placed in her abilities had brought her a deep sense of fulfillment. A few months ago, Ony had been gravely injured in a spiritual battle. To end its suffering, she had put it to rest. As she buried her cat, she swore to repay the debt she owed it. From that moment on, she had been truly alone.

She had come to this remote hotel a few days ago seeking revenge. That's where the story of her current situation began.

The spiritual battle last night had left her severely wounded. She still remembered the final blow that left her helpless on the bed, and the dull pain in her abdomen now reminded her that her kidneys were injured. Despite resting all day, she hadn't been able to recover fully. She needed herbs. She needed rest.

The hotel owner wasn't the pale-skinned man she had seen on her previous stays. When she had limped to the front desk, she hadn't been sure whether to expect help. The burly man behind the counter had been eager to assist her, but his leering gaze and rough, piggish face repulsed her. His eyes undressed her, roaming over her body. Still, she didn't refuse his help and even managed to force a smile of gratitude.

The moon was now higher in the sky, and she guessed it was around two in the morning, though she couldn't tell how long she had been lying there. As her awareness returned, so did the sensations—the biting cold, the searing pain between her legs, the choking tightness around her neck, and the scratches on her face. The discomfort spread across her body like ants crawling over her skin, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

His hands had been so large, pinning her down with ease. She had fought back with everything she had, but it was futile. The internal injuries from the spiritual battle, coupled with her physical weakness, had left her completely defenseless. He had gagged her, and the tears and mucus clogging her nose had made it nearly impossible to breathe. The excruciating pain had filled her with rage, and for what felt like an eternity, she had endured his assault.

He had seen the hatred in her eyes. He hadn't shown any mercy. His hands had tightened around her throat until she had blacked out. At that moment, she had thought it was the end. Her soul had briefly left her body, but somehow, she had woken up again.

Was it fate that had kept her alive?

Suddenly, she heard rustling nearby—footsteps crunching through the grass, leaves being pushed aside. Someone was approaching. Her nerves tensed, and the realization hit her that she was still in danger. But her body was too weak, too wracked with pain, to do anything but wait helplessly. She shut her eyes.

Footsteps. The clink of metal. The sound of something heavy being dropped. Then silence.

Was he watching her? Checking to see if she was still alive? Did he know she was awake? What was he planning to do with her body?

The footsteps grew closer, accompanied by faint, labored breathing. He was getting nearer.

Closing her eyes wasn't an option—playing dead wasn't an option. She was still breathing, and after he had strangled her, her eyes hadn't fully shut. He was coming to make sure she was truly dead.

She hated him. She cursed him. She wanted him dead. Even in death, she wouldn't let him go.

Suddenly, she snapped her eyes open, and there he was, shining a flashlight directly at her. Startled, he let out a scream of terror, dropping the light and stumbling backward. He fumbled for the axe handle, gripping it tightly as he raised it high above his head, ready to strike with all his strength...

**********

The burial site was cleverly concealed, hidden in a place no one would ever think to search for someone who had "come back from the dead." He stood up, panting heavily, wiping the sweat from his brow, and scanned the area one last time. Willow trees, pine trees, and a dense cluster of locust trees surrounded him. He swore he'd never return here. The scene was seared into his mind. Hastily, he gathered his tools, but then noticed her travel bag lying off to the side. A surge of frustration rose within him—it should've been buried with her. How could he have forgotten it in his panic? The bag had already been rifled through, the phone being the only thing of any value. Everything else should've been destroyed with her.

He glanced back at the freshly disturbed earth, still feeling uneasy, as though she wasn't quite dead, as though she might still be struggling beneath the dirt. Despite the depth of the grave, there was always that unsettling thought—that she could somehow break through the soil. His clothes were soaked with sweat and dew, and his bloodstained pants clung uncomfortably to his legs, their original color long obscured. He wasn't even tired, despite everything, which surprised him. Though the ground was softened by the recent rain, digging that hole should have taken two men half a day. Fortunately, he'd had the foresight to bring an axe instead of a pickaxe, which made the work easier. Without it, he wouldn't have managed.

What should he do with the bag?

A voice in his head whispered: No one will care about this girl. Her death means nothing. If anyone cared, she wouldn't have been wandering around—young, sick, and alone. Now she's vanished from the world. Just leave the bag in the old shed. The staff will think a guest left it behind. As for the guest registry, hide it later. Burning it now would only raise suspicion. Dawn is breaking. Once daylight comes, I'll leave the hotel—there's no need to wait for Lao San. I need to go and forget everything about her.

What was her name again? Wanda Wang?

My name is Lana Chao Adams...

A faint, ghostly voice rose from the earth in front of him, piercing his heart like a blade. Terror gripped him, and he let out a scream, grabbing his things and fleeing. A low-hanging branch caught his foot, sending him sprawling to the ground. His axe clattered to the side, but he didn't stop to retrieve it. He scrambled to his feet, clutching the bag, and ran deeper into the trees. Blood from his pants smeared across the wet leaves, leaving dark streaks that gradually brightened to red. As his frantic footsteps faded into the distance, the bloodstains, too, slowly disappeared into the misty morning...