The Ghost Who Died For Him

Three years ago, I sacrificed myself to donate my corneas to my blind lover, Elliot Moon.

To spare him the guilt, I had my family tell him that I had abandoned him for a new life.

But the credit for my sacrifice was stolen by another woman, Dolly.

Convinced that I was still alive, Elliot became obsessed with hunting me down and dragging me back to donate my heart to cure Dolly's heart disease.

He broke both of my brother's hands. He drove my mother to her death.

But I was already dead, reduced to a ghost, unable to do a single thing.

That was until his subordinate uncovered the truth: "Mr. Moon, Ms. Kayla died three years ago to save you."

Chapter 1

Tonight, my brother Jaron's agonizing screams tore through the silence of the old warehouse.

The sound ripped through my spectral form, even though I could no longer feel a physical body.

This cruel echo felt like a return to another night three years ago, when I sacrificed myself to save the very man who was now destroying my family.

Jaron's cries shredded the silence, as if threatening to shatter this empty cavern entirely.

My heart had long since stopped beating, yet it still ached with a pain that far surpassed any physical wound.

Elliot Moon stood over him, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his impeccably tailored suit trousers.

Faced with the gruesome scene before him, his posture seemed far too relaxed.

"Where is she, Jaron?" Elliot's voice was low and gravelly, devoid of the warmth I once knew. "Stop making things hard on yourself. Tell me where Kayla is, and all of this ends."

He gestured to the group of men surrounding Jaron.

A burly man in a dark uniform delivered another vicious kick to Jaron.

Jaron collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing. He whimpered, the sound muffled by the skewed rag gagging his mouth.

My younger brother, a concert pianist whose hands were his very lifeblood, was now being brutalized.

Jaron struggled, his head weakly hitting the cold concrete floor. He tried to speak around the gag, his eyes wide with pain and despair, locking tightly onto Elliot.

He was mumbling my name, I knew it.

"Kayla, Kayla, she's gone."

Elliot laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound that scraped against my ghostly ears.

"Still playing the victim, Jaron? Don't insult my intelligence." His words felt like a branding iron pressing against my phantom skin.

"We used to be friends, Jaron," Elliot continued, a trace of mock nostalgia in his tone. "Your mother practically raised me after my parents died. And this is how you repay me? By protecting someone who abandoned me?"

His words dripped with venom, sending a chill through my nonexistent spine. He was using our shared past as a weapon, twisting it into something unrecognizable.

Elliot nodded to one of his thugs. "He's not cooperating. Give him some encouragement." He issued the order with careless indifference.

My ghostly hands clenched into helpless fists.

I wanted to scream, to fight back, to protect my brother.

But I was nothing more than a wisp of smoke, a trapped spectator in this horrific reality.

My pleas went unheard; my rage went unseen. I could only watch, a powerless witness to the destruction of my family.

Despite the excruciating pain, Jaron kept struggling. With pleading eyes, he hoarsely whispered my name.

"Kayla... she's gone. She's dead."

Suddenly, a sharp meow pierced the air.

A stray kitten, startled by the sudden commotion, darted out from behind some crates. Elliot's gaze immediately snapped to the animal, a vicious glint in his eyes. He stepped forward, grabbed the trembling little creature by the scruff of its neck, and gave a sharp twist. With a sickening crack, the cat's neck snapped instantly.

The cat's body went limp.

"Don't try to lie to me, Jaron," Elliot said, his voice dangerously soft as he tossed the dead cat aside. "I know Kayla is alive. She will come back for Dolly. Otherwise, your precious assets are going to suffer again." He pointed at Jaron's hands.

A jolt of electricity surged through Jaron's body. His back arched, his muscles spasming violently. A hoarse scream erupted from deep within his throat, loud and ragged, finally knocking the tattered gag loose.

The faint smell of burning flesh briefly hung in the air.

My ethereal body convulsed in empathetic agony.

"Still won't talk?" Elliot took a step closer, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Are you worried that once I find Kayla, I'll take revenge on her? Hmph, a traitor isn't worth my deliberate revenge."

He dropped to one knee, his face inches from Jaron's contorted features. "You say she's dead? You think I'd believe that? She took the coward's way out. She ran away because she couldn't face me after what she did."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "But I will find her. Dolly needs her. Dolly needs a new heart, and Kayla is the only match."

He stood back up, his tone hardening once more. "She may have left me, but she can't run from her obligations."

"Dolly saved my life, and Kayla owes us a debt. Therefore, she owes Dolly."

"Tell me where she is, Jaron, or your hands will pay the price."

My mind was in chaos, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of this twisted reality.

My beloved Elliot, the man I had willingly given my life for, had turned into such a monster.

I remembered the day we first met. We were awkward, shy students, our eyes meeting across a crowded lecture hall.

Our love story used to be so vibrant, filled with laughter and whispered promises of forever.

He was my moon, and I was his guiding star.

Then, the accident happened. His vision went completely black, his entire world swallowed by darkness.

I couldn't bear to see him suffer; I couldn't stand the despair in his voice as he faced a life of blindness.

I searched everywhere for possible solutions, looking into various experimental treatments.

When I found out about the cornea transplant surgery, I didn't hesitate.

I secretly signed the papers, making my family and my best friend, Christian, promise to tell Elliot that I had left him to start a new life in Europe.

It was so he wouldn't be burdened with heavy guilt, so he could let go of my sacrifice and move forward.

I believed it was the highest form of love.

I remember my last breath, the overwhelming sense of peace, followed by the shock of awakening consciousness-I had become a soul, tethered to the world I had just left behind.

I saw my body, lifeless yet intact, and then the blurry sights of the operating room as they removed my corneas.

I saw Elliot's eyes, once clouded, slowly beginning to perceive light again.

I was so happy for him. But I could never laugh with him again.

In a corner he knew nothing about, I was dead.

Later, Elliot's childhood friend, Dolly Haynes, moved in.

Dolly came from a poor background and had always coveted the spot by Elliot's side.

She was there, whispering lies and twisting the truth into his ear as he gradually recovered. She took the credit for the anonymous cornea donation, spinning a tale of selfless devotion, painting herself as Elliot's savior.

Vulnerable and grateful, Elliot believed her. He saw her as his light, his redemption.

Meanwhile, my sacrifice, my deep and desperate love, became nothing but fodder for her opportunistic lies.

Three years later, Dolly's rare heart condition brought upon this nightmare.

She wanted my heart.

Blinded by Dolly's deception and his own grief-stricken obsession, Elliot was utterly convinced I was still alive, selfishly hiding away somewhere.

To find me, he was willing to destroy my entire family.

"She's dead, Elliot," Jaron choked out, his voice hoarse and laced with agony, yet unyielding. "She's been dead for three years. Torturing us like this is pointless." He coughed, then his body went limp.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, a cold fire burning within them. "You think I'd believe a lie like that? After everything that's happened? You think I'm that stupid?"

He suddenly reached out, grabbed a fistful of Jaron's hair, and yanked his head back.

"She's out there somewhere right now, living a new life, while Dolly is waiting to die. I'm going to make her pay."

He let go of Jaron's hair, letting his head slam heavily against the concrete floor. The impact echoed through the cavernous warehouse.

The cruel irony tore at my heart.

I was right in front of him, existing as a ghost, silently witnessing his descent into madness. He searched for me so desperately, yet remained entirely blind to me, unmoved even when the truth was staring him in the face.

"Wake him up," Elliot ordered, devoid of emotion. "He needs to understand the gravity of the situation. If he won't tell me where Kayla is, maybe his mother will."

His words hit me like a sledgehammer, bringing a fresh surge of terror.

Mom. Barbara. She was already so frail, her heart broken over my supposed abandonment.

This would completely destroy her.

Elliot turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing behind him, leaving Jaron at the mercy of his men.

My last sight was of Jaron's broken body, his eyes wide, brimming with tears, his lips still soundlessly forming my name.

My brother, my dear, brilliant brother, was utterly broken, and all I could do was watch.

My love for Elliot had pushed my family into this purgatory.

Elliot, don't do this, I'm begging you.

Jaron's body trembled, collapsed on the cold floor like a pile of shattered wreckage. He let out another cough, the grating sound tearing through my spectral form.

"She's... gone," he whispered, his voice so faint it was barely audible. "Kayla... she's really gone." His eyes were wide, clouded with pain, but he stared straight at Elliot.

Elliot's patience completely snapped in that moment. His face twisted, the mask of indifference replaced by pure fury.

He closed in like a predator. "I'm sick of your games, Jaron!" he roared, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls. "You think I'm going to tolerate these lies and just watch Dolly waste away?"

He delivered a brutal kick to Jaron's injured ribs. Jaron whimpered, curling into a tight ball, but he continued to plead haltingly.

"Since you value this stupid secret more than your own future," Elliot spat, "let's see if you can still play the piano with broken hands."

"Break all his fingers. Make sure he never plays again."

I gasped, letting out a phantom cry of horror.

"No!" I screamed, a futile shout that dissolved into the air.

Jaron, his hands, his life's passion!

This was an act of extreme cruelty, far beyond anything I could have ever imagined the man I loved was capable of.

My love was turning to ash, burning away with every act of violence he inflicted on my family.

A sickening crunch, followed immediately by another, echoed through the warehouse.

Jaron's screams were shrill and piercing, as if they were tearing my very soul apart.

It was the sound of something precious being utterly obliterated.

I couldn't bear to look, yet I couldn't look away. My eyes were forced to witness this horrific scene.

Elliot watched coldly, his expression unreadable, standing like a stone statue amidst the chaos.

"Perhaps your memory is returning, Jaron?" he asked softly, a taunt in his voice. "Does it hurt now? Does it hurt enough to finally tell me where your beloved sister is hiding?"

His words were like a twisted blade plunging deep into my chest. He was mocking my brother's agony, mocking his loyalty.

Jaron's hands, once nimble and elegant, were now mangled and grotesque.

His fingers were bent at unnatural angles, dark red blood blooming against his pale skin.

His dreams, his future, were all trampled to dust under Elliot's iron heel.

A cold wave of reality hit me, waking me up sharply. This wasn't the Elliot I knew. This wasn't the man I had given everything for.

This was a stranger, a monster forged from deception and obsession.

"She's... gone," Jaron choked out again. "Kayla... she's really gone. I swear."

Elliot scoffed, waving a hand dismissively as he turned to leave.

"He's pathetic, still clinging to that ridiculous lie." He paced for a moment, his jaw tight. "Fine. If you won't talk, maybe she will."

He snapped his fingers, and a heavy door in the corner of the warehouse creaked open.

Two of his men walked out, dragging a small, frail figure between them.

My vision blurred.

No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be her.

"Mom!" I screamed, my voice so hoarse no sound came out; it was sheer, absolute terror.

"Jaron!"

Despite his severe injuries, Jaron let out a raspy cry from the floor, a sound woven of pain and fear.

It was Barbara, my mother. She was pale, her silver hair disheveled, as they dragged her into the harsh light.

She was unconscious, her head lolling to the side.

One of the men slapped her hard across the face, roughly pulling her back to consciousness.

She slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the glaring light, and then her eyes widened in horror when she saw Jaron.

"Jaron! My son!" Her voice hitched, tearing at my freezing heart.

She struggled to break free from their grip, her weak body trembling. Her gaze landed on Jaron's ruined hands, and tears spilled over once more.

"You demon! What have you done to my son?" she screamed at Elliot, her voice filled with a mother's fury. "Go to hell!"

Elliot merely sneered, his face a mask of apathy.

He approached Barbara, reaching out to roughly grab her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Barbara, do you remember when you used to call me 'son'? Do you remember baking me apple pies? Look at you now, a desperate old woman." He paused, his grip tightening.

"Where is Kayla? Tell me where your precious daughter is, and all of this ends. I need her. Dolly needs her heart."

I remembered a young Elliot sitting at our dining table, laughing along with Mom as she teased him about his terrible cooking skills.

He used to be so respectful, so genuine toward her.

Now, he spoke to her like she was garbage, as if she were merely a disposable prop in his cruel game.

"She's dead, Elliot," Mom whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes filled with unspeakable sorrow. "My Kayla is gone. She died for you. She died so you could see the light again."

The truth. This naked, heartbreaking truth.

Yet, Elliot's eyes remained cold and uncompromising.

"How dare you lie to me!" he roared, shoving her away roughly.

She stumbled, collapsing to her knees beside Jaron.

"Do you think I'm a fool? Kayla would never do something so selfless."

"You're just trying to protect her. Now, tell me where she is, or your son will suffer even more." He gestured to Jaron's mangled hands, his tone merciless.

Mom's gaze darted over Jaron before returning to Elliot, her face carrying a silent, desperate plea.

The stress was too much. She swayed, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious once again.

Elliot looked down at her, a flash of irritation in his eyes, but no remorse whatsoever.

"Weak," he muttered under his breath. He turned to his men. "Take her away. Keep Jaron locked up here. Until Kayla shows her face, he doesn't leave." With that, he delivered one last brutal kick to Jaron.

Just then, his phone buzzed.

He answered it, and his expression instantly softened, standing in jarring contrast to the demonic persona he wore just minutes prior.

"Dolly, my love," he murmured into the phone, his voice dripping with tenderness. "Yes, I'm still handling some things. I'll be there soon, I promise."

He was like a chameleon, effortlessly switching between a brutal torturer and a gentle lover.

A wave of disgust washed over my soul.

He was a master of deception, or perhaps, he was the one being deceived.

He hung up the phone. The possessive tenderness still lingering in his eyes swept over my family's broken bodies before hardening back into icy resolve.

He would continue the hunt, driven by a fabricated tale of love and betrayal, while my family paid the ultimate price for my selflessness.

A profound dread seized me, etching itself deep into the core of my ghostly soul.

Elliot, did I make a mistake? Three years ago, maybe I shouldn't have saved you.

Looking at Elliot's face, my mind drifted back to the past-before the accident, before he went blind, before Dolly spun her insidious web of lies.

I remembered how Dolly used to cling to Elliot when they were kids; her family's mansion sat adjacent to Elliot's estate. When Elliot spoke of her, his tone was a mix of pity and resentment.

"Her family betrayed mine," he confided in me one night. "After my parents died, her father, who was supposed to be my guardian, squandered my family's entire fortune. He left me nothing but a dilapidated house and a disgraced surname."

He said he hated them. He hated Dolly, and he hated the way she looked at him-a gaze filled with both contempt and arrogance, as if he were a pet on her leash.

He used to tell me how Dolly, once the darling of high society, and her friends would laugh at him behind his back, whispering about his family's downfall and treating him like an inferior being.

He despised all of it.

I was the one who helped him rebuild his confidence, encouraging him to channel his anger into ambition.

We fought side by side, working tirelessly from the ground up. With his sharp intellect and my unwavering support, we built his tech empire from scratch.

I thought we were invincible. I thought we were a team destined to spend our lives together, chasing our dreams and achieving greatness.

I used to envision our future-a tapestry woven with love, success, and the quiet solace of each other's company.

I thought we would conquer the world together.

Foolish, naive Kayla.

My kindness, my desperate act to shield him from suffering, had become the very weapon used against my own family.

My selfless lie, a seed planted with so much love, had grown into poisonous vines, strangling everything I held dear.

Now, I watched as Elliot's hands began typing a message to Dolly.

He was arranging to meet her, to bring her flowers, playing the role of the devoted fiancé.

The taste of this irony was like bitter bile in my nonexistent mouth.

He was completely oblivious, blind to the truth right in front of him, even after regaining his sight through my sacrifice.

"Christian, I need those files," I had whispered to my best friend and lawyer from my hospital bed, "the sealed medical records, and the video diaries. Keep them safe. Promise me... promise me you won't show them to Elliot. Let him think I left. It's for the best."

Out of loyalty to me, he did as I asked. And now, that very loyalty had cost my family everything.

As Elliot spoke to Dolly on the phone, a gentle smile curved his lips, his voice as soft as a caress.

"My dear Dolly, don't worry, I'll be right there. I'll always be by your side." He was a completely different person. The brute who had just ordered my brother's torture, the murderer who watched my mother collapse, was gone. In his place was this gentle, considerate lover.

He hung up, the tender expression vanishing in an instant.

He turned to his men. "Take Jaron to the infirmary. Patch him up. But don't let him go. He's still our bait."

The icy aura returned, a chilling reminder of his true purpose.

Elliot left the warehouse and headed straight for the hospital.

He stopped at a florist, carefully selecting a bouquet of pristine white lilies-Dolly's favorite flowers.

But they weren't mine.

My favorites had always been bluebells, petite and exquisitely beautiful. He had once promised to fill our garden with bluebells. That memory pierced my chest like a shard of glass.

He stopped outside Dolly's hospital room, adjusting his tie and smoothing his hair. He even cleared his throat, subtly altering his voice to sound softer, more upbeat. Dolly, inside the room, was clearly prepared as well.

"Elliot? Is that you, darling?" Dolly's voice floated out of the room, cloyingly sweet and somewhat forced.

I saw her lying in bed, eyes tightly shut, covered by a thin layer of white gauze.

She was still pretending to be blind-a calculated move to maintain Elliot's misguided loyalty.

Elliot pushed the door open, his eyes brimming with feigned concern.

"My little darling, how are you feeling?" He walked to her bedside and took her hand.

His hands, which once belonged to me, were now hers.

"Oh, Elliot, it's so dark," Dolly whimpered, clutching his hand tightly. "I wish I could see your handsome face. I'm so lonely without you." Her voice trembled; it was a masterful performance.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Elliot said softly, stroking her hair. "You're so brave. You're the strongest woman I know."

"You hardly visit lately," Dolly pouted, a hint of mild reproach in her tone. "I miss you."

"I'm so sorry, darling. Work has been crazy lately," Elliot said lightly, "but I brought you something." He gently placed the lilies on her nightstand.

Dolly reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing the petals. "Oh, lilies," she said, a trace of confusion in her voice. "They're... beautiful, Elliot. But I thought you knew... I've always preferred roses."

A crack appeared in her facade; she had slipped up.

She didn't expect lilies.

She was used to Elliot remembering everything she liked.

My ghostly heart clenched. He had always known my favorite flowers were bluebells, but he also knew Dolly loved roses.

The lilies were the first sign of his confusion, his subconscious beginning to unravel the tangled threads of lies.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, darling. I must have been distracted." Elliot quickly recovered his composure, his tone filled with concern. He was even catering to her over such trivial matters. "Don't worry. Next time it will be roses, I promise. Red ones, just for you." He squeezed her hand. "Soon, we'll be together forever. As husband and wife."

My soul felt a piercing chill, more agonizing than any physical wound. It was as if my very spirit was being crushed, the breath stolen from my lungs.

His promises, his sacred vows, now belonged to her.

Dolly's face lit up immediately. Her perfectly manicured hands reached up to cup his cheeks. "Really, Elliot? Do you mean it?"

"Of course, my love," he whispered, leaning in closer.

"Kiss me, Elliot." Her demand was bold and domineering.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pressed his lips against hers.

I couldn't watch anymore. I couldn't bear to witness this twisted affection.

I turned away, covering my spectral ears with my hands, desperate to block out their sickeningly sweet words.

It was a nightmare, and I was trapped within it, forced to observe my own erasure forever.

The memory of our first kiss-the hesitance and the innocence-flashed before my eyes, then shattered into a million pieces.

The man who was once as bright as the moon had now turned into a dark, destructive force. And I was nothing but a forgotten speck of dust, tethered to this place.