The Journalist's Dilemma

Christy’s breaths were miniscule. The beeps on the electrocardiogram weren’t as frequent as they once were. I looked at my fiancée’s mangled body on the hospital bed, trying not to cry. Our wedding was next week, but now, it seems like it’s not happening. Her head turned slowly to me.

“Bruce,” she said through gasps. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Honey, it’s not your fault,” I replied. “It was just an accident.”

“No, Bruce. I… I shouldn’t have drank.”

“What?”

I never got a response, but I knew what she was talking about. With a flatline on the heart monitor, and no pulse, her last words to me were her admitting to drinking and driving. I couldn’t believe it. The only thing I could do was let out some tears. How could she do something like this—not only impacting herself, but another car as well?

I was back at home, sitting near my computer desk. How was I going to write about that crash now? I didn’t want to write in the paper that she caused the accident. Everyone in town knew Christy Metzer as one of the best people to be around. She was kind, warm, and never had animosity toward anyone. The townspeople wouldn’t believe her being responsible for something like this.

My cell phone let out a series of chirps. Someone’s calling me. I'm not in the mood to talk right now; I’m still overcoming my grief as I lost my soon-to-be wife. My southpaw grabbed the iPhone on the desk; it was my boss, Justin Samson.

“Hello?” I said.

“Bruce? It’s Justin,” my boss replied. “I got some news for you about that crash yesterday.”

My ears perked up. “What about it?”

“Well… it’s not good news, but it’s still news. I’m going to need this by tonight, so that tomorrow’s paper has it.”

“Hang on a second.” I placed the phone on the desk, tapping the screen. “Alright, I got you on speaker. I’ll write a note, so I don’t forget.” I grabbed an index card and a pen. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Someone died from it,” Justin said. “It was a five-year-old child. Her parents are still in the hospital, but they’re expected to recover.”

My heart sunk as I heard that. I was now at a crossroads. Now we have two people who were killed. The person responsible for the crash, and an innocent child. What am I going to say in my report?

After my call with the boss, I got up out of my seat and went to the kitchen. Perhaps some food would help ease my mind. My stomach was growling, after all.

The refrigerator door opened, and I scanned the contents inside. My eyes locked onto the baggie full of chipped ham. That sounded good right about now. A hot ham and cheese sandwich should sate my hunger.

I got a paper plate out of the cupboard. Two slices of rye, a small hill of ham, and some shredded cheddar made its home atop it. I put my food in the microwave, setting it to cook for forty-five seconds. It was a short time, but it seemed longer. Long enough for me to think about my job.

“What do I do?” I said aloud to myself. “The cops are going to report about that soon. I can’t leave it out… but I don’t want to ruin Christy’s reputation.”

As the microwave beeped, a voice spoke in my ears. “Why not?” it asked.

I froze. The voice I heard was ominous. It was female in tonality, but it didn’t belong to Christy. It sounded like a little girl. Was it the five-year-old who died in that crash?

“You don’t want to hurt me again, do you?” the voice asked.

“No,” I said. “I didn’t even hurt you. Who are you, anyway?”

The voice replied, “My name’s Nikki. I’m turning six tomorrow. We’re having a party at Colby Jack’s Pizza Arcade.”

Oh, lord, I thought to myself.

“Nikki, I did nothing to you,” I said. “I don’t even know you.”

“Yes, you do,” Nikki said. “The man on the phone told you about my mommy and daddy.”

I started shaking my head. Once I got my food, I headed back to my study. Either I was losing it, or this hunger was making me delusional.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I said. “There’s no way I’m hearing a dead kid.”

When I got to my desk, I turned all shades of white. Standing by the back of my chair was a little girl. Her skin and hair were gray tints. The dress she had on was whiter than bleach. What I was staring at was the ghost of Nikki.

“Oh, hell no,” I said.

I placed my sandwich on the computer table, and I bolted. Ain’t that great? I have to call an exorcist now to get this spirit out of my apartment. By the time I got to my door, I had to unlatch both of its locks. But then, I heard something.

“Why did you have to ruin my birthday?” Nikki asked. “My friends and I were going to have fun. But we can’t now.”

I sighed and turned to face Nikki’s ghost. “I’m sorry, but that wasn’t me. It was my girlfriend. If you want to blame someone for your death, blame her!”

“You didn’t blame her,” Nikki said. “You said it wasn’t her fault.”

How the hell does she know that?

“But…” I stammered. “I didn’t know about her being drunk! I mean… yeah, we both like our beers. But we always called an Uber if we got too wasted.” I stood on my knees. “Nikki… look, I want to be a dad, and it would devastate me if my kid ended up like you. I'm sorry that happened to you.”

Nikki crossed her arms. “Are you really sorry? Or are you still on her side?” she asked before fading away.

With the little girl’s ghost gone, I got up before sitting in my chair. The cursor on the computer screen blinked on my blank page of Microsoft Word. I breathed deep before letting it out nice and slow. Christy, I love and forgive you, but as a reporter, I have to state the facts. I’m on nobody’s side in this, and if your reputation in town gets ruined, so be it.