My Dead Girlfriend Keeps Messaging Me On Facebook Novels & Stories

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?”

“My husband died in an accident. It’s been so hard.” “Please, if you’re alive, just say something.” Her last message was from two months ago. I covered my mouth, my chest aching. God… she went through all that, and I wasn’t even there. She lost her husband, and I didn’t even know. “Liam…” I whispered bitterly. “You took everything from me, even my friends.” I wiped my tears and started typing. "Sophia… It’s me. I’m so sorry. I just saw your messages. I’ve missed you so much. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. Here’s my new number, please call me when you see this."

I'm sleeping here tonight because if I go back downstairs right now, I'll genuinely cry. I laughed. "Drama queen." "Anna, my feet are dead." "You chose beauty over comfort." "And I'd do it again." I shook my head, smiling, then picked up my phone from the bed. Jay. Three messages. Did you survive? You ignored me for two hours. I'm starting to think you found a new boyfriend. I laughed under my breath. Immediately, another message came in. Finally active. I smiled before replying. Relax. I was busy.

He turns off the main light but leaves the small lamp on my bedside table on because he knows I don't like sleeping in total darkness. The next morning, I wake up and stretch my body, the sound of bones getting back in order makes a sigh of peace leave my lips. I push the covers off my body and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I step out and grab my phone, a notification catches my attention, it's a F******k message from Eros. My eyebrows shoot up. Well, well, well. If it isn't the ghost friend herself. I click on it and it's a reply to a message I left her over a month ago.

The anger and jealousy burning through me was enough to push me to throw the phone across the room. But what would that change? He would still be with her and I would still die of a broken heart. The tablet dinged with another notification. “I swear if this is another lovey-dovey video, I might as well smash this thing against the wall,” I gritted, clicking the power button. I clicked on the notification but it was a post, just a new message. I frowned, wondering who could be in my DM. As I opened it, I gasped at the long line of unanswered messages. Almost ten thousand plus messages.

I fidget in my seat. 'What am I supposed to say to him?' 'That it wasn't intentional. Or that it flew from my hands.' My attention drifts to my cell phone. As I glanced at it. Remo had not texted me since yesterday. Why? I don't know. I opened my FB account, wanting to send him a message and ask where is he? Though I did not want to admit it, I missed him. I missed him a lot. Probably if last night I could have talked to him, my mood would be much better than right now.

If his mom found out, she’d surely force him to see a shrink this time. Bzzz... Bzzz... Someone’s calling. His mom, probably. Mick took his cell out of his pocket. There was a text from his programmer cousin. Then he opened the voicemail that was sent next. “Congratulations. Your girlfriend’s a dead 72-year-old librarian from Dublin. (mocking claps and chuckles in the background) She’s a kickass Grey Hat, man. I gotta meet her.” °

"The number you have dialed is not available. Please try again later." I immediately called again. The same result. A third time. A fourth time. A fifth time. Nothing changed. I opened our chat. The last message was still there. Sent hours ago. Where are you? A bright red exclamation mark appeared beside it. Message failed to send. I stared at the screen. Then, as if refusing to accept reality, I tried to add her again. The system displayed a cold notification. This user cannot be found. She had deleted me. She had cut off the final connection between us.

She would get to the bottom of the issue. Just then, her phone beeped and she frowned as she grabbed it, wondering who was texting her and that was when her phone vibrated. It was a message from Elena’s real social media account. Her heart rate sped up as she opened it. The text was short and straight to the point. ‘Stop digging.’ Another message appeared immediately. ‘Dead women should stay dead.’ The phone clattered to the ground, sending more fear to fill her body. When the phone beeped again, she glanced around as though the person was nearby. “Hel…. hello…” she glanced around and when there was no response, she grabbed the phone and screamed as she let it clatter to the ground.

“Thanks for liking me back :)” Seeing the little happy face by the end of his message made me stifle a smile. “It's not a big deal,” I texted back. “I'm assuming you work for the Johnsons :)” “How did you know?” I asked, a little skeptical. “It's the distance that's throwing you off. The app says you're within one hundred meters, so I assume you're also here at the funeral party? :)” “Oh, right. So you are here too?” “Yup.” He replied. And that was the last message I got from him before he went offline in the app.