the ghost of you ☔︎ shaymien

Six

An icy hand had a vise grip on his wrists, the contact so cold it was almost burning. A shiver shook Shayne's body like a minuscule earthquake. He desperately tried to free his wrist from the iron grasp but had no luck, only managing to be chaffed by the struggle.

His eyelids were glued shut and his vision was like his eyeballs were painted over with opaque black paint. Although he was blind and being held hostage, he still felt numb inside. The agonizing burning he felt was completely gone.

One of the voices returned.

"Open your eyes. This is your only way you can continue life. It won't hurt, just try."

The strength of the glue keeping his eyes shut was industrial, and the voice lied saying it didn't hurt. He didn't even know if he should trust it. Shayne wasn't even in control. His eyes just involuntarily opened.

It took many blinks to shake the blurry and haziness of the world surrounding him, but his vision eventually cleared and he found focus. After a few short moments of studying his environment, he found he was in a hospital again, with steel bands keeping his wrists trapped against two boards so he could move his arms.

In the corner of the room, he saw Damien. A sour taste filled his mouth just looking at the guy. The brunette didn't seem to notice that Shayne was in fact awake. "What did you do to me?" Shayne asked, his voice bitter and harsh. His vocal chords felt rusty and his voice came out hoarse.

Two chocolate orbs shot up, meeting the other man's ocean eyes. The whites of Damien's eyes were tinted red and the brown seemed to drain out of his irises as salty water droplets cascaded down his cheeks like a rainstorm. "I didn't do it."

"Then how else do you explain this? I've been healthy all my life, I rarely got sick as a child. I've never had any weird diseases or anything and I have no family history of illness. Then all of a sudden your lips touch mine and I start burning and spasming uncontrollably. Why is that? It can't be a coincidence!" Shayne argued, his volume rising and tone getting sharper as he got further in his rant.

"I can't explain it, Shayne. I wish I could. I'm sorry I have to do this but I can't live with you hating me. I'm in love with you, " Damien said, his words full of passion and sincerity.

He brushed over Shayne's hand with his fingers, the short-lived contact making Shayne tingle. He only had a few seconds to process the words that spewed from Damien's mouth, because with a snap of the brunette's fingers, Shayne was out cold.

.

"What the hell-" Shayne mumbled, having no clue why he was in a hospital room. He tried to get up but he was attached to the bed with iron bands. His wrists were red and raw, like he had been struggling against the barrier.

The last thing he could remember was going out to do some yard work. Now he was hospitalized. As his mind raced, conjuring possible explanations, a blonde girl entered the room. Her features unmistakably those of his girlfriend's.

"Shayne?"

"Courtney?"

.

After the confusion at the hospital, he was diagnosed with a random seizure and amnesia from hitting his head on the cement of the sidewalk. The collision had also caused a concussion. He looked like he was punched in both of his eyes as dark bruises developed around his eyes as a symptom of the concussion. The deep purple and blues popped against his pale skin, providing an unwanted accent.

He was warned to be careful and after staying in that prison for a few days he was finally set free. Fast forward a month later he was back at his office job, checking his emails.

One caught his attention. It was like the spam mail he'd usually delete, but something urged him to read it. It was extremely odd, the way it was written.

"congr_atu.lations._ y.ou w_on .a. g_if.tcard fo_r. M_ann.ys ._mEat ho_us.E. _T.o cla_iM y_o.ur _rE.wArd_. j_us.T cOm.ple_te .A_ sur.ve_y .at_ K_ing. ka_rd.s _en.joy yo_ur. D.eli_ci_.ous Ra_dIca.l VEr.min f_ree foo.d_ th.An_ks _T.o ki_ng kar.dS_. n_o fu.rthe_r .que.stIo_ns xoX_o

Something about it was weird like the random dots and underscores. But he's seen spam like that before, what made him curious was the random capitalism.

He wrote down all the capital letters, seeing as he had finished his workload early.

"MEETMEATOAKDRIVEATSIX"

He spaced out the words, concluding that the final statement was: "MEET ME AT OAK DRIVE AT SIX".

Now the question bouncing around his head was should he go or ignore it. Shayne glanced at his phone to check the time. 5:45.

Without a second thought or a moment's hesitation, he was walking towards his boss's office with a story in his head about not feeling well and needing to leave a little early.