Christian had seen ghosts since before he could remember. At first, they were scary. He’d scream and run away. Cower and cry. Until he learned that his father’s punishments for acting out were far worse than anything the ghosts could do.

Then they were annoying. An ever present nuisance he could never escape and could only struggle to ignore.

Then they were sad. Pitiable souls, lost and unaware, desperately clinging to dreams and loves that had long since slipped from their grasp.

And then there was one certain ghost boy. Cute. Handsome, even. And with the most beautiful voice. It mesmerized Christian. For the first time ever, he wanted to speak with a ghost.

And he was fascinating. Christian quickly fell in love with a dead boy.

Christian had seen ghosts since before he could remember, always tied to the places they died. So where the hell was Christian and why wasn’t he with Nolan?

He didn’t drag his bleeding, broken body to that park to die and end up.... Wherever in hell he was!

Not Hell. Not quite, no.... Said a voice he couldn’t see the source of, but just as difficult to escape from as that place is. Two  eyes so black they almost didn’t stand out in the swirling void around him. I can help you escape though, little ghost boy.

All you have to do is give me those special eyes of yours.