He vanishes from sight, not saying anything else, as we continue staring ahead at the remains of a battle the world will never know was fought. Hell won’t be told much about it. Upstairs won’t bring up the fact it was such a lowly being who had to step in. Topside will never have a clue a day has changed.

She did all this knowing as much.

She only died to keep us alive.

“She better fucking come back,” Kai says on a hushed, serious whisper. “She better fucking come back,” he says again before his voice breaks.

I hobble to my feet and siphon away.

She better fucking come back.

Epilogue: Part I

GHOST GIRL

Oh, Two is taking his time today. The others are going to be so mad.

The little wiseass grin flirting with his lips lets me know he’s doing this on purpose, taking longer than the usual ten minutes they’re allowed.

Rather unique guys, these four. Their rules and boundaries seem so bizarre and confusing sometimes.

I’m not really sure who they are, but I do know we’re quite literally in Hell, so they’re definitely not good guys. In fact, they seem to be high up on the pecking order.

Definitely, definitely not the good guys.

My eyes move over the other three as they clean themselves up, rolling their eyes at Two. I used to give them privacy for these very…odd moments between them. They make it a point not to look at each other, stay quiet, and hurry along their…self-pleasuring under the ten minute period.

When I’m a real girl, I’m not going to waste my time on masturbation. I’m going to teach these guys the fun you can have when you add a woman to the party. A small little evil laugh echoes in my head, and I rub my hands together with wicked glee, just thinking of all the dirty scenarios I could find myself in with them.

Hmmmm…maybe I’m part of Hell too.

Back to the point: I’m under the impression they have to be together to make this happen. Which is insanely intriguing, if I’m being honest.

What would happen if they had a girl all at once? Since they don’t seem to favor men sexually, it’s clearly a fair question. I mean, they like each other enough to whack off in the same place, but not enough to help each other out with the task, if you know what I mean.

They tend to ignore women as a general rule, but I’ve spent the past three out of five-and-half years perfecting the speech I’ll use to tempt them into considering my proposal.

I’m a bit shameless that way, it seems.

Two is finally making that guttural sound between clenched teeth, and I watch him, unabashedly moving my hand over his as he finishes. It makes it feel like I’ve helped.

I’ve done a lot of questionable things like this over the years. It’s not like they know it, and you have fewer morals when no one can hear, see, feel, touch, or taste you.

I also learned their names after I could finally hear, but I usually call them by their numbers like someone would a pet name.

Two—Kai—stands, and the other three of them flip him off.

Kai’s my favorite. He’s the one who drives the others the most insane. I think we’d get along. Not to mention, he’s so damn pretty to look at.

Obviously, I want all four, though.

Next I’d have Jude—One. Mostly because he looks like he wants to fuck something really hard when he’s concentrating on relieving his baser urges.

Then I’d have Three—Ezekiel. He has this really intense mouth when he’s on the crest. It’s indescribably sexy and tempting. I want to be the one who causes that expression.

I’m surprised their hands don’t have callouses. They do this twice a week.

I follow out Gage—Four. My least favorite. He’s always the first one finished, and actually falls asleep sometimes while waiting on the others. It’s just ten damn minutes.

When I’m finally a real girl, I certainly don’t want the fun to end after a few quick strokes. Especially not after the way I’ve built it up in my head.

These virgins are going to have their work cut out for them.

At least I assume they’re virgins. I’ve been watching them all this time and haven’t seen them actually have sex with anything but their individual hands.

“Is this Hell’s version of group therapy?” I ask them.

They don’t answer, of course. Sucks they can’t hear or see me. It’s rather frustrating, if I’m being honest.

“You’re a dick,” Gage says to Kai as they head toward their individual rooms.

“Someone has to balance out your quick-draw tendencies,” Kai fires back, eyebrows bouncing.

They grow immediately quiet and pause at one of the paintings in the hallway.

They pause here a lot.

I wonder sometimes if the girl in this image took their virginity. She’s quite the ho, if you ask me, considering she’s in a lot of other paintings with four very different fellows.

I worry they’re really hung up on her, since they stop here four or five times a day. It’s another reason I’ve worked damn hard to perfect that speech of mine.

It’s epic, if I do say so myself.

Sighing with annoyance, I stare at the image with them, trying to suss out what was so special about her. My cheekbones are so much better than hers. I think my boobs are just a bit smaller, but they also look perkier than that girl’s.

Our lone physical similarity is that we both have blonde hair.

The bitch does have an ass I envy, though. I hate her a little for it. Mine is okay. Nothing special. Unless she’s sitting in these paintings, she always finds a way to give a peek of that ass.

Terribly vain.

This one is her running away from them, eyes stern as she looks over her shoulder like she’s decided to leave them behind, while they stand brokenly on the edge of the painting.

In the background, there’s a blob. There’s really no other eloquent way to describe it, and I have no idea what the purpose of it is.

It doesn’t have a plaque like all the others. I think her name is Paca, since I’ve heard them whisper it to these paintings on occasion. The plaques all have something about the apocalypse, but that makes no sense at all to me.

Jude clears his throat, their moods visibly soured. That’s another reason I don’t know why they continue to walk through this hall and stare at these paintings, when it clearly hurts them so much.

They look at the idiot girl, who apparently chose another harem over them, considering those other guys are in the many other paintings littering the Wall of Horror.

Kai’s hand brushes her face on the Cleopatra painting before he whispers, “Treacherous Treasure.”

“Just four hundred more years to go. Fucking piece of cake,” Gage says cryptically, annoyed as he stalks away.

I have no idea what that even means.

Even though he’s my least favorite, I don’t like seeing him hurting like this. They’re all hurting.

It seriously makes me want to kick this girl’s ass. But I haven’t been able to find her.

Their friend suddenly appears in the hallway, and Gage pauses, huffing as he turns back around to see what news Lamar is bringing.

“I think it’s time,” he says, though he looks really nervous to be saying it.

“What?” Jude asks, an edge to his tone that I don’t understand.

“I think it’s time. Some years ago, I felt her. Different again, but I swear it’s her—”

His words end on a gasp when Kai is suddenly shoving him against the wall with his arm pressed against Lamar’s throat.

“What do you mean some years ago?” Kai bites out, eyes going a little crazy.

It’s times like these I wish I had popcorn. I bet I’d love popcorn. It’s on my list of goals for if I ever become a real girl. I wish these guys would watch more freaking ghost movies.

“Ghost Girl wants a real body so she can rock your world!” I shout to them. “If you get some, you won’t be so angry all the time! I swear! It’s what they all say in Hell!” I carry on, my words falling on ghost-deaf ears.

Sighing, I sag back as Lamar holds his hands up and laughs nervously. Took me ages to figure out how not to sink into the floor without running in place. For whatever reason, running in place works wonders for staying above the ground, but it’s terribly annoying to do all the time.

“Clearly I didn’t want to give you false hope, but…I think this is it. I think she’s early since you remained in Hell and…mostly lucid,” Lamar states with some hesitation toward the end.

I wish I knew what they were saying sometimes. It feels like they’re having conversations about conversations I’ve missed, and apparently they never need any refreshers on what the other is talking about.

“It’s not a strong feeling,” Lamar goes on. “But it is there. I’m certain of it now,” he assures them.

“How much do you want to punch him, Four? On a scale of one to ten, I’d say at least a nine. What’s he talking about?” I ask aimlessly, certainly not getting a response.

“So do your thing and make this work like you theorized it would,” Four finally says very impatiently.

“I may need something to jumpstart it. Don’t hold what happens next against me,” he says tightly, clearing his throat a few times. “With any luck, being in Hell this time will produce different results than the last.”