The first of which was remarkable in that it had a headline which told of my crash.I began to read through the column and turned the page to reveal a ...icture of the crash site. The photographer must have been on the scene quite quickly after the accident. There was the truck slewed across the lanes of the highway, the two women from the Ford were standing at the side of their car and the paramedics were dealing with my wreck seen through the broken rails of the safety barrier. Another team was. It was now on a Baidu news story about another execution. Looking at the mugshot under the headline, I knew the face; I knew the person. It was the stunningly beautiful girl I’d read of before, executed here back in 1993.It was her! She was the ghost I’d been seeing!I picked up the phone, read the story. It was a more in-depth article than the one I’d read before... The article explored her upbringing, said she’d had a tough life. Her parents were janitors and were strict, tough on her, forced. I tried to convince myself that I’d seen a fox, a cat, anything other than that awful fucking thing … Every time I closed my eyes and tried to sleep I’d see it again, I’d see that grinning, evil countenance, and feel the sadness that its filthy, contaminated contact with my brain caused. Whatever it did inside my head — whether it fed somehow and that I nourished it in some way, or even if it was just fucking with me for its own perverse enjoyment — it left something with me. I know something. After about 15 minutes the bus which was already very crowded arrived & i boarded the bus having no other choice as the journey was almost an hour to home. The bus was totally jam packed & after buying my ticket, i managed to push my way though to stand in the rear, middle of the bus. After a while, i felt something brush against my bottom & i casually glanced behind to notice a middle aged person of about 50 plus standing behind me, with a shoulder “jolla” sling bag. He too appeared stuck in.