The first time it happened, you thought you were losing your mind. You’d barely slept, the weight of everything you left behind in the wilderness pressing down on you, suffocating you. The world had moved on, but you hadn’t. How could you? The ghosts of that place still lingered in the corners of your mind, and one ghost in particular refused to stay buried.

Jackie.

It was subtle at first. A flicker of movement in your peripheral vision — blonde hair caught in the sunlight, gone before you could turn your head. The faint scent of her favorite vanilla lip balm lingering in the air when you swore you were alone. You convinced yourself it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Trauma had a way of distorting reality. But then, she spoke.

“Miss me?”

The first time you heard her voice, you froze, heart pounding in your chest. It was impossible — she was impossible. But there she was, standing just beyond the edge of the mirror as you brushed your hair, wearing that effortlessly perfect smile, like no time had passed.

At first, she stayed in the background — a fleeting glimpse in the corner of your eye, a quiet hum of approval when you made a decision she would’ve liked. But it didn’t take long before she was everywhere. Sitting on the edge of your bed as you struggled to sleep. Leaning against the kitchen counter while you brewed your morning coffee. Whispering in your ear when you tried to forget.

“Why do you keep pretending I’m not here?” she asked one night, her voice softer than usual, almost… hurt. She was sitting cross-legged on your bed, watching you with those same penetrating eyes that had always seen more than you were willing to show. “We were best friends. Don’t I deserve at least that?”