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He didn't refuse, made her come in and arranged the couch so she could rest comfortably. It was the only thing he could offer her and she didn't complain, she just thanked him for that small gesture and went to bed.
The next day, when he went to prepare breakfast, he noticed that the sheet was folded delicately and the woman was gone. He was not surprised, perhaps her family had looked for her earlier. However, she reappeared at midnight, more battered than before.
This was repeated for a week. Anguish grew in him as he watched her critical condition each night. He feared that her husband was going to kill her, so he went down to the security office.
Great was his surprise when he was told that it was impossible, that the woman had died a year ago, killed by her own husband.
A shudder ran through her body as she realized the truth. It was not a woman who had been sleeping on her couch, but the lingering spirit of a victim trapped in an endless cycle of violence, desperately seeking help in the world of the living.