Epilogue 28

The cup moved slowly across the table.

"That's it!" Amy shrieked. "You've got it! Feel the cup! Be the cup!"

I was thrilled beyond belief. Perhaps this was the beginning, the first feeble steps of my journey towards being able to interact with the living. Dared I hope for more?

"Do you think we'll ever be able to materialise, like ghosts in horror stories?"

Amy shrugged. "I guess so but I've never been able to."

I gazed at her, deciding then to pursue an avenue of conversation I had been avoiding so far.

"Would you want to?" I asked.

She did not look up but replied, "I don't have anybody."



"Amy," I hesitated, "tell me what happened."

She shook her head. "I told you, I don't know."

I took her hand and spoke to her gently, "Tell me."

She looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "I think he killed me."

"Killed you?" I exclaimed. "Who? Kyle?"

She nodded. "When I was sleeping. I remember waking up and being unable to breathe, and struggling against an immense, smothering pressure over my face."

I felt a rage rise within me. "What a bastard. Where is he now?"

She pointed ... to my block of flats. Understanding suddenly flooded my mind: the noisy couple, the fight, Harry, the silence.

"Do you visit him?" I asked

Amy shook her head. "No, I'm too frightened."

"Frightened?" I replied. "Of what? He can't touch you any more."

"No," she said, "of what I might do to him."