Kurt sat cross-legged on his bed, thinking about the man he once believed had loved him. The man who was responsible for him being dead and a ghost.
Kurt knew how he’d died—by drowning. Not exactly the way he’d have chosen, given his druthers. If he had to be murdered, he thought he’d rather have been shot, or poisoned. Something quick and relatively painless. Drowning took time and he’d felt every second of his life being drained away. In fact, he’d fought it, thrashing, trying to find something, anything, to grab onto, to pull himself free from George’s hold so he could get to the surface. It hadn’t happened and soon the need to breathe became unbearable. He’d inhaled, but only water filled his lungs and he quickly lost consciousness—and died. Instantly, or so it seemed, he was on the r
