*Cynthia's POV*
Stupid fucking prick. What right did they have? I hated it when people disrespected Ben when he was alive. Do they think that it's ok to do the same fucking thing now that he's dead? I hate people...
I heard a very familiar sound coming from my laptop which i had though was turned off. It was the ringing of a skype call. I glanced over at the screen, expecting to see my friend Darren calling, but to my surprise, it was a stranger. I hadn't even been sent an "add friend" request. They didn't have a profile picture, and the name was just random symbols. Being the stupid person i am, i answered. I guess i was just to consumed in my thoughts to think. That doesn't make any sence...
"Hello?"
"I need your help..."
"You! Listen, i want you to leave me the hell alone. Stay away from-"
"I need to know your name. Please..."
I stayed silent for the longest time. I finally sighed and spoke.
"My name is Cynthia..."
"Cynthia... that's a beautiful name... i want to show you my face..."
"Look buddy, i barely know you."
"I highly doubt that."
Without hesitation, he clicked video and his face appeared on the screen. My hand rose up to my mouth and tears fell from my eyes. I had to turn away. It was Ben... My best friend who died 4 years ago... it can't be...
"I'm sorry..."
"Y-you're not Ben..."
"I need you to trust me-"
"IT SEEMS THAT YOU NEED ALOT OF FUCKING THINGS!"
"Cynthia, please! I don't know why you're angry! I just... wanted someone to explain what this picture means..."
He held up a small picture, which i'd recognize anywhere. It was us... in 6th grade... that was the day of the band concert. He begged his parents to drive him so he could see my trumpet solo.
"You... you don't remember?"
"I'm afraid not..."
"We were 12. You wanted to see me play in the band concert."
I got up and walked to my wall where multiple pictures and drawings lay. I looked at my bedside table and found what i was looking for. I grabbed a small frame and walked back to the computer.
"I have one too..." i said quietly as i held the picture up to the camera. A slow smile formed on his face. That smile... i thought i'd never see it again.
"You're crying again." He said softly. I quickly wiped the tears away.
"The day they buried you... i thought i would never stop crying. It felt like a peice of me died with you. I missed you Ben... it still doesn't seem real. I'm probably imagining this whole thing. Yeah... that's it. I'm probably sleeping and having a horrible nightmare of my dead best-"
I was stopped by my laptop screen being enveloped in static. Slowly, i saw blond hair appear THROUGH the screen! He rose his head up and stared into my eyes.
"This isn't a dream. This is real Cynthia."
I couldn't believe my eyes. I was about to say something, but my thoughts became jumbled when i felt his cold lips on mine. He was kissing me... Ben... my (supposed to be dead) best friend...
"I've wanted to do that since the moment i first saw you..."
I knew he wasn't talking about 2nd grade. It must've been after he died... i believed him now. I believed everything he said. This wasn't some prank. This was real. He was real...
"I have to go now. I'll be back soon."
"Don't leave me again Ben. Please. I don't think i can take it."
"I promise you. I'll be back soon."
And with that, he went back through the screen and turned my laptop off. I let out a sigh and turned around to my bed. I remember getting up, walking a few steps and finally, fainting.
