Baylee's POV

Hallucinations. Everyone has them, they show up randomly, unexpectedly. Most are your worst fears, others are flashbacks, while others are just your mind playing tricks. In the dark, even in the clear daylight, they show up, sometimes causing you to look insane, psychotic, really. Some say that when you kill someone, someone you care about deeply, you can see their ghost. I believe it too.

I had a best friend of eight years, Jasper Washington, I still see him. His perfectly straight smile, his muscular build and defined bone structure, his gelled up, midnight black hair and lastly his eyes, I'll never forget them, they were a crisp ice blue, with speckles of grey and light green, I remember how his life drained from those eyes. Everything, I remember him.

~Flashback 2 years ago~

I walked down the binding trails of the woods, it was dark and the moon was right above my head, signaling that it was around midnight. I told him to meet me in our shack, the one where we'd always go to get away from the world and just relax.

It had to be done. He knew too much.

"Baylee?" Jasper called from the shack, the door was cracked open just a few inches so only half of his face would show. He looked almost scared, like he was on edge about something.

"I'm right here, Jasper." I answered as I stepped out from the tree line. I could see Jasper visibly relax and release a held in breath of relief.

"Well come on, let's get out of this hell of a world for a while." He said, his bright smile aiming towards me. I only gave a small one in return as I made my way towards the fully opened door. We both strode towards the makeshift living room, where one couch laid near the middle and a table with a small tv laid against the wall. We both plopped down onto the brown sofa, just letting the silence take over.

"So why did you want to meet here?" Jasper suddenly asked, concern laced his voice as he turned his head to look at me. I swallowed thickly before turning towards him.

"I'm sorry, Jasper." I whispered as a lone tear escaped my eye and travelled down my cheek. He looked at me, confused and concerned.

He knew. I swear that he knew what I was going to do, but he didn't do anything to stop me except respond with a simple, "For what?"

"This." That's all I said before I took out the switchblade my uncle gave me and pressed it against Jasper's chest, right where his heart was. His bloodline, his soul, everything was right there, and I took it. I pressed the knife into his chest and watched as the knife cut through his heart. I watched as the life drained from his vibrant eyes and into dull blue ones.

He was gone and it was because of me.

That was two years ago and it still haunts me, I still see him. I'm not sure why, he was my best friend, but maybe just maybe, I fell in love with him and that's the reason why I can't get over it.

He didn't deserve it, he was innocent and one of the nicest guys I've ever met but I was selfish and ruthless then. I did what I needed to survive and I killed my best friend for the life I live now. I killed him to get into my uncles gang, it was pointless but I was selfish and I wanted power.

And that's what I got, but for the price of the endless haunting of my best friend.

As I'm staring at the wall in front of me, I bet I look dead or emotionless from anyone outside of my thoughts. Maybe even insane, who knows? All I know is that he's standing in front of me again, with a blank expression on his face. I stare at him, longingly, I miss him and maybe that's why he keeps showing up. I long for him to be next to me, making his dumb jokes and smiling wide.

Maybe that's why here, I'm known as the ruthless killer. None of the other members had to kill their friends or family. So why me? Because I'm related to the gang leader, he wants me to be feared by the others, and that's why I had to kill him.

I've thought about getting my revenge on my uncle, plenty of times. I'd kill him, painfully, then I'd rule over the gang, but I couldn't work up the nerve to do it. It'd be another person I care about dead. Another person I'd kill.

"Baylee. Are you okay?" A voice snapped me out of my thoughts, I stood up out of habit and looked towards the voice, locking eyes with the person my hatred and vengeance was aimed for.

"I am fine, Victor. You do not need to make sure I'm okay." I spoke sternly, my voice monotone and my jaw set. He looked at me, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

"You're not fine though, Baylee. Something is bothering you, please sit." He asked, but his eyes showed a demand. I let out a sigh before sitting back down, he sat beside me, about a foot away, the same distance Jasper was from me before I killed him.

"Now tell me, what's bothering you?" He spoke, his voice low and fake concern lacing it. He didn't feel sorrow, he felt nothing. He was the ruthless one, the killer, but everyone here looked up to him.

"Nothing for you to be concerned about, sir." I replied with an assuring smile. Victor narrowed his eyes at me once again, but this time, he grasped my knee with his hand, squeezing tightly.

"You will tell me what's wrong, Baylee." He demanded, his grip tightening as he did. I glared at him, my teeth clenched shut and the pain seeped throughout my leg.

"It's nothing to be concerned about." I replied through clenched teeth as he continued to tighten his grip. I kept my gaze locked with his own, challenging him almost.

"You'll learn someday, Baylee." He finally stated before he released his grip and stood up. With one last look at me, he turned and walked towards the door.

This was my chance.

Without warning, I grabbed the knife that was hidden inside my boot and stalked behind him, crouched low. I was right behind him, the knife in a defensive position as I stood up straight. I hesitated, for milliseconds before grasping my arm around his shoulder and placing the knife onto the skin on his neck. Seconds later, the knife had cut through his skin and pierced his throat while I threw him to the ground.

He gasped for air as the blood started to choke him and the blood from his wound spilled out onto the concrete floor, leaving the floor stained with dark, maroon like red.

With one last breath, he looked at me, pain, anger and regret filling his eyes, he whispered, "You will not be forgiven." Then the rest of his life drained from his eyes and his head fell limp onto the ground.

Maybe I won't be forgiven, but my revenge is fulfilled and my hallucinations will be gone.