Chapter 8: The Ghostly Lover

The victim was a girl named Megan Chen, in her early twenties, just graduated from college, now curled up in her mother’s arms. She looked lifeless, her face pale, dark circles under her eyes.

She wore a faded OSU sweatshirt and kept her hood up, shrinking into herself like she wanted to disappear. Megan’s hands shook every time she tried to take a sip of water.

According to her, it started three months ago, just after Easter. She began to dream frequently of a strange man. At first, she thought she just wanted a boyfriend—that it was on her mind during the day and entered her dreams at night—so she didn’t take it seriously.

I nodded—my own daughter had just started dating, and I remembered those anxious, hopeful feelings. Megan’s story felt ordinary at first, maybe even relatable. But what came next was anything but.

In her dreams, she and the man got along well. They traveled together, went on dates, but she could never see his face clearly. She just had the feeling he was young and handsome. After a while, the man asked if she was willing to be with him officially. Lost in the sweetness of the dream, Megan agreed without hesitation.

It sounded innocent enough, almost like a fairytale. But her eyes—red, haunted—told a different story.

She looked at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, voice barely above a whisper.