What Colby had enjoyed doing in his lifetime was going hunting. Taylor wasn't a big fan of his stories about it, but he couldn't help himself. He loved hunting. Not just the time with his buddies, he enjoyed the adrenaline rushing through his body. Life or death. As if there were no rules. And he had the power to make the decision.

This time, however, his target wasn't a deer or a wild boar. He wanted to see Charlie bleed. If that was even possible. But if it was, not too little. Nobody, nobody talks about Taylor like that.

His girl called hunting something only rednecks did. Maybe it was true. Maybe Colby was a redneck, maybe a bit. Who knows, could be. Because damn, he loved hunting. He really missed that feeling.

Occasionally, the thought crossed his mind that this time it was about, okay, a somewhat living being that could feel pain. He had never cared about that during real hunting. It's just nature. But this time, the somewhat living being had intelligence. Could speak. Had Feelings. This time he was hunting his own kind, whatever kind that was supposed to be. But whenever those thoughts crept into his mind, he threw them overboard immediately. Such thinking would only hinder him now. Fuck empathy. Yes, he was a ghost like Charlie. But damn, he was so much more powerful than him. This wimp had no idea what storm was coming for him.

Even in life, Colby could have taken him out easily. He was just much stronger. But now he had ghost powers. Yes, what Charlie said about him was true. He was a fucking god.

The first rule he had learned in hunting: Animals always stay where they knew themselves. Where they felt safe. Their territory. And the feeling of breaking into their territory, where they felt safe, destroying their safety, that feeling was unbelievably thrilling every time.

Where his current hunting target was, where it knew itself, was at Clinton College.

He teleported himself to the entrance and made himself invisible. "Yeah, asshole, I can do that now too," he thought. From now on, he didn't want to teleport anymore. He wanted to enjoy hunting Charlie. Hunting season is now open.

Colby moved through the morning light seeping through the windows of the deserted corridors of Clinton. A cold, grim smile played on his lips as he roamed the familiar spaces. Memories of his time here flooded back, but now the campus was imbued with a new, darker energy. His.

Not much had changed. Clinton's halls were a labyrinth of long, narrow corridors covered by high ceilings and surrounded by bare, cream-colored walls. The floors were old wooden planks that creaked with each step, carrying the echo of footsteps down the corridors. Just like back then. Scattered on the walls were yellowed photographs documenting the university's history. The images portrayed stern-faced professors, solemn graduating classes, and sports teams in antique uniforms, all reminiscent of bygone eras. Somewhere, his picture must have hung too. After he was done with Charlie, he definitely wanted to find it.

The silence was overwhelming, broken only by occasional muffled sounds from afar – perhaps the squeak of an old door or the rustling of paper. Probably just the nerds or the extra dedicated faculty awake. Every step echoed, and Colby could hear the faint rush of his own breath as he moved through the corridors. He loved being the predator.

Soon enough, he was outdoors again. He walked across the campus, knowing exactly where he would find his prey.

The first rays of the sun broke through the morning fog, casting long, shadowy patterns on the well-maintained lawns and old buildings. The air was cool and fresh, with a hint of dew that made the grass blades glisten. Like tiny diamonds.

No one was around. Perfect. He wouldn't need to manipulate memories of witnesses. Of course, they wouldn't see the two of them anyway, but who knew what Colby would do to Charlie.

He reached the building he knew all too well. Tau Alpha Nu's fraternity house.

As he slipped through the closed door, Colby could feel the presence of the ghost – probably one of his new abilities. He could smell his prey, perfect. With each step, his determination grew stronger. This time, he wasn't here to talk. This time, he was here to act. To torment a ghost.

Colby ascended the grand staircase, where to his surprise, a huge portrait of himself hung. But no time for that now. Later.

"Charlie!" he called out, his voice echoing through the walls, making everything tremble. "Show yourself, you cowardly bastard!" He too became visible again. He had changed his mind. He wanted to smell Charlie's fear when he realized Colby was here. "You can't hide from me, and you know it."

A cool breeze blew through the entrance hall, and then Charlie appeared, his face full of caution and nervousness. "Colby, I..."

"Shut up!" Colby cut him off and slapped him right in the face, causing Charlie to stagger back in shock. "You told me I was a god. Fuck yes, I am. You told me I had power. Fuck yes, I do. And now I'm going to show you what happens when you mess with me and my girl."

Charlie's eyes widened in fear. "W-wait, Colby. Let's talk."

Colby grabbed Charlie by the collar of his shirt and easily lifted him into the air, as if he were as light as a feather. "A misunderstanding maybe, hm? You scared Taylor. And you've insulted her. Stalked us. Do you really think I'm going to let you get away with that?!"

Charlie struggled desperately, his legs kicking in the air. "Please, Colby... I just wanted to help..."

"Help?! That's what you call helping?!" He laughed coldly and threw the other spirit against the wall. Interesting, he didn't go through the wall. He's still trying to fight back. He still thinks he has a chance. "You have no idea what you've done. But I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget."

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With a speed and strength that even surprised him, Colby struck Charlie, who had only just gotten up with a groan. Each blow was an outlet for his pent-up anger and frustration. Charlie screamed and begged for mercy, but Colby knew no mercy.

Blood spurted from Charlie's nose as a particularly hard blow hit him. Interesting, ghosts can actually bleed. A nice detail that he's specifically bleeding from the nose. He must remember that from before. "You're nothing, Charlie," hissed the Ghost Boy. "You've been hanging on to my life for several decades because yours ended so miserably, just like it began."

"C-colby, that's not... you," the spirit trembled in pain.

But Colby didn't listen. He gave him a powerful kick in the stomach. Charlie hit the wall again, but this time he floated through, right into another room. Good, his powers seem to be leaving him. He should feel small.

Colby followed him through the wall, grabbing Charlie again and pulling him towards one of the windows. "See that?" he said, pointing at the campus below. "That's my territory. Mine. And you have no right to be here."

"Y-you haven't been here for decades, Colby. Y-you don't know what you're talking about. W-what did she do to you? Did she curse you?"

Colby punched the window and it shattered into a thousand shards. He pushed Charlie closer to the broken glass. "Tell me, Charlie, have you ever feared death?"

Charlie's eyes were full of panic. "Please, Colby... I... I'm already dead. Why can't you remember that?"

"You lied!"

"And I feel everything just like I did when I was alive. The only difference is that I won't be released."

"Good," said Colby coldly, with a smile. "Then we can do it again when you get down there. I'll drag you up the stairs and throw you down again. Over and over. I have all the time in the world." His smile turned into his iconic Colby grin, but it was filled with darkness.

With a powerful push, he shoved Charlie through the window. The ghost screamed as he fell, landing with a loud crack at the bottom, as if a giant branch had snapped. Colby watched him, until his screams turned into whimpers and then fell silent.

He stepped back from the window, took a deep breath, and felt strangely calm. A dark satisfaction washed over him. Yes, he was a god. That was fucking awesome. He wanted to do it again.

Quickly, he teleported himself down to Charlie, grabbed the unconscious ghost by the hair, and dragged him back into the fraternity house. He climbed the stairs, Charlie's ghostly body jerking with each step.

Back at the window, he gripped him tighter, leaned him against it, and punched him in the face. "Wake up!" Again. "I'm not done with you yet!" And again.

Charlie's eyes shot open and he spat out blood. "C-colby," he whimpered weakly, but he met deaf ears.

"I have all the time in the world. Eternity. To torture you. Forever, if I so choose." The frat boy leaned him out of the window. Wait, did he have all the time in the world? Wasn't there something he wanted to go back to? No, there wasn't.

Colby paused, holding the unconscious ghost firmly in his grip, and stared out at the rising sun, which bathed the campus in a peaceful light. For a moment, all was still, save for the sound of his own breathing and Charlie's faint whimpers beneath him.

"Colby!" A familiar voice broke through his dark trance. It was Taylor, standing in the doorway with panicked eyes. "What are you doing?!"

He turned slowly to her, still holding Charlie. "I'm protecting you, Tay. He deserves it."

Taylor approached cautiously, her eyes wide with shock. "That's not you, Colby. You're not a monster. Please stop." She extended a trembling hand, as if to guide him out of his anger.

Colby felt an inner conflict as he looked into Taylor's eyes. Her gaze was a mix of fear and desperation, but also hope. Hope that the Colby she knew was still somewhere inside. For a moment, his grip on Charlie loosened. Yes, he remembered. He had wanted to go back before Taylor woke up. Why had he forgotten?

"That's not the way," Taylor whispered urgently, stepping closer. "Let go of the anger. I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're stronger, no matter what it is."

Colby closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The darkness that had consumed him began to recede as he repeated Taylor's gentle words in his mind. The memory of their shared moments overwhelmed him.

"Taylor..." he murmured, his voice cracking. He let go of Charlie, and the ghost sank limply to the ground, blood and tears mixing on his face. "I-I'm a monster." He looked at Charlie, and for the first time, a tear was visible on Colby's face. Then he looked at Taylor one last time. "I'm sorry." And with that, he teleported away.

»Colby!« Taylor reached out for him, but it was too late. He was gone. She was alone in the room, she couldn't see Charlie. What she could see, however, was blood everywhere—on the floor, the walls, and especially at the window. "I-I can't see you," she began. "B-but I know you're there. Please, if you care about Colby, help me help him. But I need to understand what's going on. I just don't know how to prove to you that I'm not to blame. Not today, not back then."

Charlie huffed in frustration, unheard by her.

"H-here." Taylor pulled out a notepad and pen from her bag, setting them on the floor. "I figured I'd need to communicate with you somehow. Colby told me y-you can touch things."

Charlie struggled to get up, but his legs gave out again. Groaning, he crawled towards the pen, attempting to grasp it, but his hand passed through.

Taylor waited anxiously, but nothing happened. The pen and pad remained unmoved. "Are you still there?" she asked hopefully. "Please." Then she remembered something Colby had said. When ghosts feel weak, their powers fade. It could be that Charlie couldn't touch anything now, especially after being beaten by the person who meant so much to him.

Kneeling down, Taylor gently touched the pen as if to hold it in Charlie's place. "I understand you might be too weak to communicate with me now," she said softly. "But you have to trust me. We're on the same side. Colby hurt you, and I'm sorry for that. But we have to save him together. I know it's hard, but you have to pull yourself together."

Charlie groaned softly, attempting once more to grab the pen. His ghostly hand trembled, but he couldn't move it.

"This would be so embarrassing if you're not even here, but look me in the eyes, Charlie. I could never hurt Colby. I love him. I love him, Charlie. I would never harm him. I believe you saw me back then, but there must be another explanation. Look me in the eyes, do you really think I could lie when it comes to Colby?"

Charlie groaned again, his eyes flickering with pain and exhaustion. But when he saw Taylor's pleading gaze, something in him seemed to break. Damn, he believed her. The woman was good.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering all his remaining strength, and made one last attempt to grasp the pen. He cried out in exertion. Concentrating all his power into his hand. And this time, he managed to move the pen slightly. A sign that he had heard and understood Taylor's words.

Taylor watched the pen tremble and felt a spark of hope. "Thank you, Charlie," she whispered. "We can do this together. We'll find him and help him find himself again. He's in danger of losing himself, and we can't let that happen."

Charlie nodded, though of course she couldn't see it.

"And I think I know someone who might be able to see you. I don't like the idea, but it's for Colby. With her, we could devise a plan. I'd do anything for him. Just like you, it seems. Well, and just like her."