"I was wrong about you. You sick son of a bitch. To think I ever trusted you." His mouth twisted into a demented smile at her little tirade. "What? You think this is funny?" She seethed.

"Honestly?"He took a swig of his brandy. "A little." Resting the glass on his knee he looks up at her. "I told you from the beginning what this was. What YOU were to me."

"Seriously? After all I did for you. All I have given you. Everything I gave up? Your just going to end it like this?"

He finished his drink in one swallow allowing the empty glass to slip onto the end table prior to standing. "Look, sweetheart." He touched her face with his fingertips bringing her eyes to his. "Let me make myself clear here. I am not ending anything." Her eyes sparked with a little twinge of hope. "Because, there is nothing between us to end. I fucked you. That's it. Nothing more. Now get the fuck out of my house."

"Fine, but don't come calling me the next time your dicks hard."

"Don't worry, I have a whole line of whores more than willing to take care of it"

"I am not a whore!"

"Really? Could've fooled me"

She clenched her fist wanting to silence him. "Go ahead and try" he dared her "just know I hit back. And I guarantee I hit harder than you"

She clenched her jaw and stormed out the door with a bang. Leaving him in silence.

"I was wrong about you." I sobbed, with tears streaming down my face. My tears wetting his shoulder. "I was wrong about everything." I said. More to myself than him.

"No, you weren't. I still hurt you. I've still caused you more pain then someone should ever put you through." He sounded truly hurt, which only proves that he's a greater man then anyone deserves. "I'm a monster."

I looked up at him. Slowly raising my eyes to meet his.

"You are anything but a monster." I said. I meant it more than I've ever meant anything.

"I don't deserve you." He said as if reading my thoughts.

"That's not t-"

"Yes it is." He stated. As if he was telling a child 'yes, the sky is blue.'

"I don't care what you think you are or what you think you deserve." I said, before he could speak anymore false words. "I love you and there's nothing you can do about it."

He smiled at this and was silent for a while, then, "Thank god."

"I was wrong about you."

"What?"

"I had it all built up in my head--I saw white horses and big bubble letters made of clouds, spelled out 'Love'." She looked down at her shoes, then her tiny limp hands.

"Or maybe you were wrong about love," he said.

"Yes. We all were," her eyes briefly touched his face then fixated on his stained shirt. "And you too. I thought you were going to take me away."

"From this?!" He said. "Only death can do that."

"I know, and that's why I hadn't known love," she said, her hands finding new strength to grab the brown leather luggage she hadn't lifted before, "but now I do."

As tears dropped to the kitchen marble top, dried-up ink gone wet again on fresh white cards: 'Save the Date.'

"I was wrong about you."

You're more complex than I could have ever imagined. A fascinating human being with good intentions.

Alexander paused with utter confusion.

"I am?" he asked.

"Of course you are! I understand now, why you are here."

"No, no you don't, you speak of lies." I rested my hand on his and then with a quick gesture he moved away.

"My love you are here to protect..." suddenly I lost my breath and felt my heart beat speed up to slow down.

"You?" he asked as he helped me settle on the hospital bed. I couldn't help but mumble as I tried to speak.

"Them..."

Alexander paused and held her cold hands in his. Regretting ever pulling his away out of fear.

"I was wrong about you," she stated. So simple, so honest-- almost shocking to the girl that lived in sarcasm and spite.

"I thought you were disloyal."

The blonde one opened her mouth angrily to respond, but realized what she was trying to say.

"I thought you were disloyal, and I was wrong. You're rude, you're cruel, you're not someone I'd laugh with or cry with or tell secrets to--" she stopped, making sure she hadn't gone too far. When nothing changed on the blonde girl's expression, she continued carefully.

"But you are the most loyal, trustworthy person I've ever had the honor to meet."

"I was wrong about you. I thought I had you figured out. That I knew you'd never hurt me. That you loved me. But you didn't . You never have. Because if you did you wouldn't have broke me into a million pieces just for the heck of it."

"I didn't want to hurt you, and I loved you I did.. I just don't have feelings for you anymore."

"No. You don't just lose feelings for somebody you actually love. If you love them, they stay on your mind, they're glued to your heart, and you don't just lose feelings for them. You don't! It's alright, if you don't love me. I'd rather know it, then you sit here and lie about it just to make me feel better. "

"I'm sorry.."

"There's no way in hell you're sorry."

"I am. I really am. I wish I could make this work."

"Make this work? It was working just fine until you "lost feelings" for me. You gave up before you even tried! You didn't want this, not at all. I hope you are happy with your decision , but I'm leaving. Everything I thought I knew about you is a lie."

She got up, walked out, and that was the last time I ever saw her.

"I was wrong about you," Eleanor pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and tossing her blond curls. "I thought that, finally, someone interesting moved in, but all you do is mope around your room."

Her companion gave her no response.

"Maaaaaaarcus," she called to the young man.

Again, no response.

"Marcus," she snapped.

Still no response.

Eleanor floated over to the teen and stuck her semi-translucent head between his face the desk.

Marcus jumped and yanked his earbuds from his ears. "Jesus Christ, Ell," he yelled. "What the Hell are you doing?"

"Finally getting your attention, which I've been trying to do for the last ten minutes, but you have been ignoring me," she replied haughtily.

"Yeah, 'cause I've been doing this thing called 'homework'," Marcus hissed.

"Well that is dumb. At least do something entertaining if you insist on lazing about your room," Eleanor commanded with as much authority as a twelve year old could muster.

The teen's eye twitched. "If I bore you so much, go haunt someone else," he sneered.

"You know that I cannot do that," Eleanor said. "No one else is home and I cannot leave the house-"

"Yes, I know," Marcus interrupted. "You can't leave the house because you died here and unless you find a way to attach your soul to a object or you body is moved you can't move beyond these walls." He sighed and dropped his head onto the table. "Can't you at least get your incorporeal ass out of my room until I'm done?"

"No," the ghost stated. "And this language you are using is highly inappropriate. I wish you would modify it."

"You've been haunting me since we moved in five years ago. How are you not used to it by now?"

"I was born in the eighteenth century as a noble. I do not like the way you teenagers speak these days," Eleanor informed him. "I mean, you should, really, be addressing me as 'my lady' and doing anything I say."

Marcus snorted. "Well, you're not a lady anymore. You're the ghost of twelve-year-old brat Hell bent on being more annoying than my own little sister." He groaned lifting his head from the desk. "Just leave alone for a few minutes, please."

"No," Eleanor cried. "I am stuck in this house with no entertainment besides you and your family, and believe it or not, watching you performing mundane tasks is not exciting. At least play a game with me."

"What game could we possibly play? You can't touch anything," Marcus pointed out.

"Hide and seek?" the young girl asked timidly.

Marcus made a small sobbing sound falling back into the desk. He hated when Ell did this. His week had been terrible and he just wanted some ghost-free down time to finish his work and then play video games. Suddenly he got an idea, and he only felt a little bit guilty for it. He tilted his head up so that his chin was resting the desk. "Fine," he conceded. "I'll play hide and seek with you, but at the end of the game you have to leave me alone. The kitchen will be the starting place. I'll hide first."

Eleanor's face lit up with childish glee.

Marcus stood up and trudged after the girl. "Okay stand here, close your eyes, and count to thirty," he told her when they got to the kitchen.

Eleanor nodded and closed her eyes. "One, two, three," she started counting.

Marcus carefully grabbed the salt container intending to trap Ell in a salt circle (a trick he'd read on the Internet for keeping ghosts at bay), but when he turned back around, he saw the ghost of a young girl with a joyful smile on her face. He paused. What kind of an asshole would he be if he ruined that joy? "Damn," he thought. Marcus sighed and carefully placed the salt back on the counter. Smiling once at Eleanor he rushed to find a hiding place.

"Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!" Eleanor opened her eyes. "Ready or not, here I come!" she called.

"I was wrong about you," I said.

She looked up from her work, her blonde hair, tight in ringlets falling around her round face. Her gray eyes were the color of storm clouds in the distance. Her brows knitted together as I waited for her response. I felt impatient, checked my watch and tapped my wrist. She just stared, as though forming a thought, a response, a question to my statement. Finally, she smiled and straightened her back. She looked around and laughed uneasy, "Do I know you?"