A Ghost Encounter: My Time with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Part Ninety-One: Self-Destruction

Grief has been a constant in my life. But this? I can't do this.

I've never been in love before and by the way my heart is twisting, burning, and breaking inside of my chest, I can guarantee I'll never be in love again.

"Why?" My voice trembles against Price's chest. "Why?" I scream gutturally, sobbing.

Without warning, my knees give in and Price catches me before I fall to the floor, slowly lowering both of us to the ground.

"I..." Price gulps, his voice trembling against me. "I don't know."

Even the Captain John Price is at a loss for words.

- One Month Later -

I didn't sleep that night.

I didn't sleep for a few nights, actually. I spent the entire month grieving, withering away in my quarters.

I've lost fifteen pounds, stopped eating or showering regularly, and sleep has become a foreign concept to me—at night at least because I sleep throughout the entire day.

About two weeks ago we held a funeral for Simon, similar to Soap's. Laswell, still out in Las Almas, couldn't make it to the service.

Today marks the first day I slept somewhat regularly.

7:00 AM

I finished getting ready for the morning, which isn't much. With my appearance practically disheveled, I make my way to Captain Price's office.

Without knocking, I enter his office and find Gaz sitting inside with Price.

"Sergeant Roberts." Price's face fills with concern after he looks me over, taking in the full weight of my state. "Gaz and I are in the middle of something. If you give us a few minutes I can speak with you after that."

Without saying anything I look at Gaz, he looks back—lingering for a moment—and says, "That's alright, Captain. We can finish this up later."

Price gives Gaz a, Are you sure? look.

Gaz nods his head ever so slightly and exits the room.

"You look awful," Price spits out, insulting me. Though, I know he means to show me that he's concerned. "Are you taking care of yourself? I know you're taking a break but-"

"I'm here to resign," I say curtly, cutting him off.

I swear the air in the room stilled.

"What?" Price stands from his chair, his hands flat against his desk. "You can't be serious?" he scoffs in disbelief.

"I'm serious," I deadpan.

"Breanna..." Price walks from around his desk and moves directly in front of me. "Simon wouldn't want-"

I cut him off.

"The dead can't want anything," I hiss. "What I want is to be rid of this place."

"Why?" he whispers, his voice trembling.