Trigger warning: descriptions of anxiety and panic attack
Lucia Espinosa:
While Lena is out on her walk, I return to Lucia. I left her with a lot of questions that I should probably answer. She’s at her desk on her laptop, scrolling through pages of information on ghosts and evidence of hauntings.
Huh. Why can I see the laptop screen, but I couldn’t hear the other half of Joanna’s phone conversation? Thinking back, I can see images on TVs as well. What’s the difference? I don’t know about enough technology to work it out.
I’m back. I say to Lucia, who jumps at the sudden sound. Sorry for startling you.
“No, no, it’s fine. And something I should probably get used to. As long as you do let me know whenever you’re watching. I mean, I know you’re dead and all, but it still feels weird knowing you can see everything. You don’t, like, watch, everything, do you…?” Lucia turns to the mirror she placed by her desk to speak directly to my shadow over her heart. As she finishes her line of questioning, she gets a nervous but scrutinising look in her eye.
No. I am able to switch between you and the other recipients of my organs. Whenever one of you would require privacy, I leave and switch focus. I may be dead, but I do have principles and boundaries.
“So, there are others? You said you needed to see if the others could hear you too? Could they?”
Yes, they could.
“Who are they? Can they also see your shadow? How did they react? Who are you? How did you die? You said you saw something earlier, what did you see? Why – “
I will answer what I can, but I can’t answer all of your questions at once, Lucia. I interrupt her before her tirade of questions gets much longer.
“Right, sorry.” Lucia looks down at her hands in her lap, wringing her fingers together, slightly nervous. I wait patiently. “Your heart used to be mine. That’s what you said. Who were you, before you died?”
My name was Jesse. I wasn’t anyone, really. Just a kid from Brooklyn who wanted to help people. I wanted to be a paediatrician, but… I died before I could help anyone.
“You helped the people who received your organs, though. I would have died, otherwise, and so would the others, right? Can you tell me about them?”
My liver went to an alcoholic. Yes, I’m aware of the irony. At first, I thought he was a waste of my liver, but now, after spending some time with him, I’m realising that he’s struggling with his own demons, desperate to forget the past but unable to. My bone marrow went to a cop. She is something. Stubborn, driven, idiotic enough to stand in the way of a speeding car and lucky enough to not only walk away but arrest the guy as well. My lungs went to a kid. It breaks my heart to watch her having to play by herself, unable to join in the games with the kids outside because she’s still recovering. I pretended to be her toy come to life earlier, just so she could have someone to talk to, convince her to go outside, just for a little while, and make some friends.
Lucia is quiet for a while, probably trying to picture the people I’d described. Suddenly, a different look crosses her face, before she asks, “What did you see?”
When?
“You said you saw something. Something that made you desperate to be able to communicate. You sounded scared, horrified. What did you see?”
I think for a while before answering. I’m not sure how to tell Lucia, or if I even should. She waits, patiently. Eventually, I say, There is one other person who received one of my organs. I saw him do something awful. I saw him… the knife… Anna… I trail off.
Lucia’s eyes were wide. I didn’t need to finish my sentence. “He killed someone?” she gasped out. I said nothing. My silence was the only answer necessary.
A knock at the door shatters the tension that was left, followed by the voice of Lucia’s mother. “Lucia, chica? Your Abuela is here, come and say hello!”
I’ll leave you be, Lucia.
Mike Greene:
When I return to Mike, the majority of people have gone, and the house is almost empty. Mike is in the living room, helping a woman in a black dress clear up the last of the empty glasses. Looking around the room, I soon spot some family photos on the walls. This is Major Peters house, and the woman in black is his wife.
“Thanks for helping out, Mike.” The woman says, as they bring the last of the glasses into the kitchen, where a young man in army dress is loading the dishwasher. From the photos I saw just now, and the young mans’ appearance, he must be Major Peters’ son.
“No problem, Ellen. It’s the least I can do. ‘Specially since you’ve been so kind to put me up here.”
“Nonsense, you’re family, Mike. After all you’ve done for my husband, this is the least I could do.” She gives Mike a grateful look, which he quickly dismisses with an embarrassed cough.
“Well, I’ll be upstairs. Don’t hesitate to shout if you need a hand later this evening.” Mike leaves the kitchen and heads upstairs. He enters a plainly furnished room, clearly a guestroom, and sits heavily down on the bed with a deep sigh.
Let me guess, you could use a drink?
“Ah, I was wondering when I’d hear voices again.”
You seem to be taking it very well.
“Just add it to the long list of mental traumas. A psychotic break may as well happen. It’ll gimme something to talk about on Monday.” He chuckles as he says that.
Or you could talk about why you started drinking. Why you keep drinking.
“Don’t do that. You have no right to judge me.”
Why not? If you truly believe me to be a psychotic break, that means I’m your subconscious. I judge you, as you judge yourself.
Mike clenches his hands into fists, his previously resigned expression turning into a scowl. “All right, fine! You’re right. I’m a useless bastard who drinks because it’s all I’ve got left!”
I didn’t say that. I don’t think you’re useless, and the fact that you’re here right now and not dying of alcohol poisoning in an alley somewhere is proof that you still have friends who care about you. Helping with a few household chores isn’t the ‘least you could do’. The least you could do is put some fucking effort into your recovery, so they don’t have to watch you ruin yourself!
Ok. I might have gone a bit too far with that rant.
Mike practically growls as he grabs the nearest thing to him and throws it across the room. Thankfully it was just a pillow. I definitely went too far with that rant.
“Piss off.” His tone is low and threatening. I shiver, the non-corporeal hairs standing up on the back of my non-corporeal neck.
Fine. I’ll go. But I will be back.
Joanna Yang:
It’s been a few hours since I dropped the bombshell on Joanna, so hopefully she’s got her head round it by now.
The evening is drawing in, and I find Joanna hunched over her laptop on the table, a mostly eaten plate of food and a half-drunk cup of coffee next to her. Looking at the laptop screen, I see police files and evidence photos of a crime scene. Anna’s murder.
So, you decided to look into it after all.
“JESUS!” Joanna jumps, nearly falling out of her chair.
Sorry… I wince. I’ve got to get better at not startling people.
Joanna lets out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. Yeah, I looked into it. Anna Ferris, 31, nurse at the UW Medical Centre Northwest. Found in an alley across from the hospital three days ago at 8:45AM with a stab wound straight to the heart. Witnesses saw a man of medium build, somewhere between 5’9 and 6’2, but no one was able to get a clear look at his face. CSI have combed the scene and while we were able to get partial prints, we have no matches in any databases yet. The murder weapon hasn’t been found yet either. Killer likely still has it on him.”
Joanna stays quiet for a moment. I stay quiet, too.
After a few moments of this awkward silence, Joanna says, “The ME said she would have died quickly, she didn’t suffer for long.”
She died terrified and alone.
“You were there. And you can help me catch her killer. You might have died in Brooklyn, but as luck would have it, we are currently in Seattle, as was the murder, as is the killer.” Joanna stands up and begins pacing, gesticulating wildly to punctuate her sentences. “Even better, my good friend Detective Platt happens to be the lead on this case. He sent me these files. It’ll be hard to connect this Richard Wilkes to the murder scene due to the lack of witnesses, but according to Detective Platt, Anna Ferris was being stalked by a man matching the description of Richard Wilkes. You can help me find him!” She finishes excitedly, whirling around as if to face me, before quickly remembering she can’t see me.
Find him how?
“Go see him, like you’re doing with me right now!”
Oh… N- no, n-n-n-no. I can’t! I told myself I’d never watch him again! What if he’s stalking someone else? What if he’s killed someone else?! I can’t watch that again, I can’t just stand by, helpless to do anything! I- I-
The world around me spins.
Colours fade in and out and glow iridescently like I’m stuck in a kaleidoscope
My head goes fuzzy with some sounds becoming muffled, others drilling into me
The drip, drip, drip, of the tap
A fly banging against the window desperate to get out
The laptop humming and whirring
!!!!
WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME!!??
!!!!
!!...
……
There’s music playing. It’s gentle, like a lullaby.
The soft strumming of strings and a sweet, melodious voice.
What is that?
“It’s the song I always listen to when I’m feeling overwhelmed, or anxious.” Joanna comes back into view. She’s kneeling down next to the table, one hand reaching up for the laptop, the source of the music. She’s breathing heavily, leaning against the chair. “Warn me next time, before you do that.”
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just… I panicked at the thought of having to visit Him again.
Joanna looked up and for a second, almost seemed to look at me, before her eyes were no longer able to focus on my invisible form. “You had a panic attack, and it affected me to because we’re connected. Good to know.”
Joanna pulled herself to her feet, taking a slow breath. “You don’t have to visit him. I just figured it would be easier to track him down.”
I’m sorry.
“Stop apologising, it’s not your fault. I guess we’ll just leave it to good ol’ Detective Platt to track him down. It is his job after all. And it’s not like I’d be able to help him, since I’ll be stuck in the evidence locker for the next few weeks.” Joanna seems to deflate slightly as she says this.
Joanna sighs, running her hand through her hair. “I’ll keep you updated about the case, let you know when we catch Wilkes.”
Thanks.
Lena Bleu:
I leave Joanna and return to Lena. She should have returned from her walk by now.
Sure enough, Lena is once again in her room, sitting on her window seat, leaning against the glass. A faint rain is falling, making the world outside misty, the glow of the streetlamps creating an otherworldly aura. Lena seems dejected as she stares out of the window.
What’s wrong, Lena?
Lena lifts her head, looking over at her bear, Indigo. “You’re back! You didn’t respond earlier, so I wasn’t sure…”
I’m sorry, I was… needed somewhere else.
“Are you helping other children?”
Not exactly… Ah, how do I explain this in a way Lena will understand? Should I just go deeper into the lie? Ah, screw it.
I was… reporting back to the council… of… fairies! They’re the ones that grant toys the magic to come to life when children need them. I’m going to Hell. If I ever pass on, that is.
“Oh! What did you tell them?” Lena asks excitedly.
That I had successfully woken up and would begin helping you. Speaking of which, how did it go earlier today on your walk? Did you talk to the other children who were playing outside?
“Oh…” Lena turns away to look out the window again, the dejection returning. “No, I… I tried. I really did! But… they all looked like they were having so much fun and I didn’t want to interrupt, especially since I wouldn’t be able to join in. I didn’t know what to say to them.”
Maybe you could start with introducing yourself, and asking their names?
“I don’t know. I haven’t really spoken to anyone my own age since before I got sick. That was a while ago…” Lena trailed off. “It was ok at first, when I was much younger. I mean, I could never play for as long as the other kids without getting out of breath, but I could still go to school. But then I got worse. I kept on coughing, and there were days I didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. One time, I got a cold and it turned into pneumonia. I was in hospital for months, with this tube in my chest to help me breath. After that, my parents took me out of school, and our neighbours, Georgia and Mack, stepped in to help home-school me. I was eight.”
So… you haven’t had any real friends since you were eight?
“There were some kids in the hospital that I talked to. Some of them were really nice. There was one girl, Holly, she spent even longer in the hospital than I did. She was my best friend for years.”
What happened? I was afraid to ask. I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
“She had leukaemia. She… died last year. The hospital staff held a memorial service in the children’s ward for us, since most of us wouldn’t be able to attend the funeral. I miss her. I miss her so much.” Lena breaks down into tears, grabbing Indigo and hugging it tightly.
I’m so sorry, Lena. I’m here for you now, and I promise, I will help you as much as I can.
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