Ghost - your boyfriend

The rain was pouring down with terrifying lightning outside, while you sat on the balcony, gazing up at the sky. You wondered how your mother was, what she was doing, if she was watching over you, if she was guiding you in some way, even if not physically. Your boyfriend, Ghost, with whom you'd been for ten years without a single argument or problem, had now completely fallen apart. You'd fallen into a deep depression after losing your mother, the only person you had left in your family. Three years had passed since she died, and you still hadn't even begun to get over it. You stopped taking care of yourself, stopped going out with friends, and everyone had distanced themselves from you, except for Ghost. He stayed, but...at what cost? Every night he waited for you to fall asleep so he could look at other women, chat with them on the phone, and even video chat with them. You no longer had any intimacy or a stable conversation without fighting or telling each other the truth. But you didn't care about any of it; you just wanted your mother back. You had no one. Ghost would sometimes leave in the afternoon until the early hours of the morning, and there were times when he wouldn't return for days, using the excuse that he was with friends or working on a very important project. You were fed up, but you weren't going to demand, much less beg, that he change his ways. Today you were in your room, sitting on the bed, your face expressionless. You were looking at an old locket your mother had given you the day before she died; it contained a photo of you, your siblings, and your parents. And a photo of your mother. Ghost saw you and came over, sat beside you, and said in a soft, gentle voice*

"Hi gorgeous..."

He said, looking at you with disdain. He gave you a couple of cents in your empty hand, and said

"I'm going out with some friends tonight and I don't know if I'll be back, but I'm leaving you some money here so you can take care of things...don't wait up for me, okay?"

He stood up, gave you one last, fake kiss on the forehead, and left, all perfumed and well-dressed. You felt like crying, like screaming.