It was a cloudless night. The full moon lit the trees surrounding thehighway. My thoughts were not on the road before me, but on the man I hadjust left. Did I love Bob enough to marry him? Sorting out my feelings hadnever been easy for me, so my concentration was not on driving. One moment, the road ahead was clear, the next a man was standing abouta hundred yards before me. He flung his arm up in front of his face as ifto shield his eyes from my headlights. My foot move towards the brake, butit was too late. I felt the impact as the car hit him and the doubleshudder of the wheels running over his body. I didn't stop until I reachedthe safety of my apartment. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was violently ill. I strippedoff my clothing, praying that a hot shower would wash the accident from mymind. It didn't, and I spent a fitful, sleepless night. The next day I called in sick to work, saying I had the flu. I scannedthe morning papers but there was no mention of the accident. I chain-smokedand drank pots of hot, black coffee. I found the article on page three of the evening paper. It read: "HaroldEvans, 23, was struck by an unidentified hit-and-run driver late last nighton Highway 9. Police are seeking possible witnesses who may be able toidentify the vehicle invo lved." Was he dead? The article didn't say and Iwasn't about to call the police and ask.
I returned to work the following day and was trying to catch up onunprocessed claims when someone approached my desk. I looked up to find agood-looking young man standing before me. "May I help you?" I asked pleasnatly, although I was annoyed at havingmy concentration broken. "I certainly hope so, Susan," the man said. "Who are you?" I aked, wondering how he knew my name. "I should think you'd recognize someone you'd struck with your car." "You're alive!" I yelped. "No. Actually, I'm dead. Quite dead." He paused, and glanced around theoffice where some of my co-workers had stopped to stare at my outburst."please be aware that no one else can see me, only you, since you caused myall too early demise." "What do you want?" "That should be obvious, Susan. I want you to turn yourself in. It seemsthat I can't properly rest in the afterlife until someone confesses to mydeath." "I can't do that!" I hissed. "Is there a problem, Susan?" Mr. Armstrong, the office manager, wasbending over my desk. "Are you still not feeling well?" "I'm fine," I answered. "I felt dizzy for a moment, but I'm all rightnow." "Then I suggest you return to your work since you're already a daybehind!" Harold stood there, smiling, apparently pleased by my discomfort. "Turn yourself in, Susan. Until you do, you'll never be free of me.I'll be everywhere. Sometimes you'll see me, sometimes you won't, but i'llbe there, nevertheless." My mouth hung open with my reply, but before I could manage a word, hewas gone. "Everywhere, Susan...e v e r y w h e r e....." his icy whisper chilledmy soul.
That evening I stopped at the market to pick up a few things for dinner. "Not THAT tomato, Susan, it's not quite ripe." I froze at the sound ofthat voice. I truned but there was no one nearby. "Sometimes you'll see me, sometimes you won't...."
Harold shared breakfast with me the next morning, although he, ofcourse, did not eat. I saw him again at lunchtime in the mall across thestreet frerom my office. That evening he appeared in my living room,remarking on how comfortable my apart ment was.
Bob had called several times since his proposal and I had been brusqueeach time. The phone rang then and I grabbed it, glaring at Harold. It wasBob and I invited him over. "He won't see me," Harold grinned," But YOU will. It should be amusingto watch you try to ignore me. Or perhaps I won't let you see me and I'lljust watch the two of you make love." I called Bob back, saying I felt a headache coming on and wasn't up tocompany. The next few days were hell. True to his word, Harold was with meeverywhere I went, day and night. I called in sick to work so often that Iwas finally fired. I was behind in my rent and my car was repossessed. AllI had left was my sanity and I could feel my grip on it slowly loosening.
"Harold!" I screamed. "Where are you????" "Right here, Susan," the icy voice purred in my ear. "You win, Harold. I can't take it anymore. I'm going to turn myself in." "Very good, Susan. As soon as you give your statement to the police,I'll leave you forever."
At the police station door he said "I'll miss you, Susan. I've reallygrown quite fond of you. But now you'll go to your just punishment and I'llgo to my eternal rest. Goodbye, Susan."
The desk sergeant took my statement and I was held pending a trial. Thejury found me guilty of manslaughter and I was sentenced to five years inprison. From the first day alone in my cell, my sense of freedom has beencomplete. I am beginning to relax now and no longer jump at the slightestsound, or wait to hear his horrid, icy whisper.
"Hello, Susan.....Susan......I lied."--ÿ