My Dead Girlfriend Keeps Messaging Me Novels & Stories

he murmured, ticking boxes. But my mind kept drifting. Every time my phone buzzed in my pocket, my pulse jumped-half expecting him. N. Since the last message, the mysterious number had been silent. At first, I thought it was some kind of sick joke. I had dismissed it, turned my focus back to business, but the words kept echoing in my head like a whisper I couldn’t shut off. I had been told my mother was dead, didn’t really remember my memories with her but why all of a sudden I am getting messages thst suggests otherwise.

I've never felt this way for anyone before and it's quite strange because she isn't even my fated mate. What if I mark her? I should. My lips part slightly to speak but my phone vibrates, interrupting the moment. I frown, pulling it out of my pocket. I see the notification message and instantly everything inside me drops. Beta Williams: Miss Miriam is dead. No, that’s not possible. That can't be true. I dial his number immediately, luckily the line connects. “What do you mean Miss Miriam is dead?” I snap, stepping aside. “Are you fucking joking with me?”

She told Quinn that I wasn't here, and she couldn't make it the way he liked it. Quinn's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze dimming. Sinking into the couch, he reached between the cushions for his phone and pulled up our last conversation. The last message was still the same—me, asking for money. I was pathetically humble, even adding little emoticons between the words. And afterward, afraid that he might be annoyed, I had sent him message after message, each one filled with pitiful little stickers. Quinn scrolled through our old messages again and again. Then, one by one, he saved every single sticker I had sent into his phone gallery.

My fingers hover over the text before I click on it. Unknown: I know who killed your father. I roll my eyes at the message. No doubt, it's a spam. I have gotten a lot since I arrived. I need to change my number like right now because I can't deal with these spams anymore. I'm about to block the ID when a video pops up in the chat. With a hesitant breath, I click to open the video.

No one knows about what I do except Regina and I, now my daughter is in prison, it's obviously not her, so who the hell is this person that is trying to blackmail me. “Who are you?” I sent “I already told you sweetie, it's me, your best friend whom you killed, guess who's back from the land of the dead, it's me, and guess who I'm taking back with me, it's you” My phone immediately fell from my hand, as fear engulfed me, “No……” “No…….” This is not her, there's no way it's her, she's dead, she's dead, “You're dead………!” I screamed and grabbed my head as I staggered into my room, but in fear of someone picking up the phone and reading the message, I immediately grabbed the phone and blocked the

You don't have to be reassigned. Seriously. I'm sorry. I just like sex, that's all. I didn't realize it was that big of a deal. Don't be an asshole, Santos. We can still work together. I promise it won't happen again. Does your girlfriend always drag you around by your balls like this? You know what? Fuck you, dude. Don't ever contact me again. "Wow." I read over them a second time. Five messages in thirty minutes from her. Not one response from him. "She's a bit cuckoo isn't she?"

Have a good night and dream of me. I reel back in surprise at the sweetness of the message. Do I have a secret boyfriend I don't know about? Me: Please, may I know who this is? Only few seconds pass before my phone vibrates again and I hurriedly open the message. Unknown number: Who do you think it is? Me: Oh I don't know, a cyber stalker? A wrong number? My great grandfather's ghost? You could be anybody. Unknown number: Your great grandfather's ghost? Seriously?! I don't even know why I'm not surprised, I'm already used to your way of thinking. Here's a hint, I'm a guy and you last saw me an hour ago.

The second one I opened was the messenger, and there was still not much chats, he was just a boy, and his mate was osipital, there was a woman but the elderly and the others I named the reunion lately. Maybe he already deleted the messages, Remon was a clean work, because the man would not be late, and even if they were caught they would be denied and still. I hissed and put down his phone, but I remembered the archives and spam messages. When I opened it, there were women, the face of a beautiful woman, she only saw the messages, no reply. There are latest messages, saying that he is such a stuck and they are straight to the point, inviting Reme.

Her sharp eyes swept my face, that brand of scrutiny she excelled at and honestly… unnerving. “His number’s dead.” My voice thinned, rough from sambal and from things I couldn’t swallow. “Not a ‘I’m at the spa,’ not a ‘I’m doing cryotherapy.’ Dead dead. Operator message. Robot voice. Heartbreak with digital manners. The last time he replied was weeks ago.” I breathed out. “Then one day… he sent a package.” Winona’s brows lifted. She didn’t need to ask which package. She’d raged in our group chat the moment I typed merah bangsat.

If only she knew how other ladies are dying to go out on a date with me, I am sure she wouldn't have treated me that way. Suddenly, I got a text message on my W******p and it was from her, I jumped up like I won a lottery ticket. I opened the message and read her content, "Thank you so much for today, I really appreciate it.” "You are always welcome, In case you change your mind, you can send a message to me or place a call,” I replied to her and waited for her response but I got none before dozing off just like that. I woke up the next morning and the first thing I did was to take up my phone and see if I got any missed calls or a response from her but I still got nothing, I guess I have to