Lucia Espinosa:
Lucia is pacing nervously when I return to her bright and early on Monday morning. After watching for a minute or so, trying to work out the cause of her agitation, I eventually decide to ask her straight out.
Everything ok, Lucia?
“Wah!” She jumps at my intrusion as she usually does, but quickly composes herself, turning towards her mirror to look at me. “Hi, Jesse. Yeah, I’m fine, I just had an idea and am still trying to convince myself it’s a good one, and to go ahead with it.”
Oh? What’s the idea? You finally going to ask Sophie out?
Lucia splutters at my suggestion, “Wha– no! Why would I– that’s just–“ a deep blush spreads over her face as she continues floundering for words. I can’t help but chuckle at her response.
Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I say, giving her a way out of the awkward moment.
She clears her throat, and shakes her head. “Anyway. No, I uh, I was actually thinking, since I am now able to see your shadow, I was wondering if I could see others, and thought, hey, maybe we could, you know… go to the nearby cemetery, just to see…?” Lucia’s voice get quieter and quieter as she keeps talking, eventually trailing off entirely.
I think it over for a couple of minutes. It certainly wouldn’t hurt, and I’m curious too. The other recipients can’t see my shadow, only Lucia can because of Laurie’s influence. Maybe she can see other shadows. Hell, maybe I’ll be able to see them too.
All right, it’s certainly an intriguing idea. Let’s do it!
The cemetery is a 30 minute walk away, through the park Lucia met Sophie’s friends in, across a couple of roads, and over a river. As we approach the cemetery, the gravestones become visible and I find myself squinting, trying to make out the shapes of the stones. Lucia lets out a little gasp as we move closer, slowing her pace as she stares. “Shadows…” She breathes out.
It’s only when she says that, that I realise why I couldn’t see the gravestones clearly. Dozens of shadows were drifting around between the gravestones, some moving in groups, others keeping to themselves.
Incredible…
“You can see them too?” Lucia’s voice was a whisper, as she once more started moving towards the cemetery.
Yes. There are so many!
As Lucia moved closer, the shadows became more distinct, until I could make out specific shapes. Some seemed more solid than others, moving around almost with purpose. The more solid the shadows, the more I could almost make out features. The shape of a nose, the curve of a chin, the style of the hair. Some of the shadows were pale, almost translucent in their natural opaqueness. These were more sluggish in their movements, almost fading in and out of sight as they trundled along. It was easy to make out which shadows were older, slowly withering away.
Lucia reached the fence outlining the cemetery, looking through the bars in wonder as she stared at the shadows.
“It’s unbelievable… they’re like, floating blobs of shade. Do you see how some are paler than others? Do you think they’re fading like Laurie said?”
Blobs? To me, they seem more… humanoid… Maybe because I’m dead, I can see them with more clarity, I guess.
“Hmm.” Lucia contemplated this, continuing to watch the shadows in their slow, stately dance through the graveyard.
After a while of watching them, Lucia let out a breath and stepped away from the fence.
We walked back in silence at first, before Lucia cleared her throat, “Um, thank you, for agreeing to come with me. Even with how curious I was, I don’t know if I’d have the courage to go alone.”
Of course. I promised that I’d be here for you.
Lucia smiles with a hum, and continues on home.
Mike Greene:
It’s late morning by the time I return to Mike, but to my initial surprise he’s not in the guestroom at Major Peters’ house. It’s only when I look around, I realise that Mike’s in a waiting room. The walls and floor are calm, muted colours. There are magazines and information pamphlets on a small coffee table, and a receptionist quietly tapping away at a keyboard behind a counter.
Mike is rapidly bouncing his leg, his heel tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor. After a few minutes, a small buzzer on the receptionists’ desk sounds. “Mr. Greene? The doctor is ready for you now. If you just go through the door on your left there.” The receptionist smiles at Mike, gesturing towards the door.
Mike lets out a deep breath, hesitantly getting out of his seat and walking towards the door. Mike hesitates again once he reaches it, gripping the handle tightly, almost afraid to turn it and see what was on the other side. Eventually, he steels his nerves and almost yanks the door open as he overcompensates.
“Please, come in,” a voice calls out as Mike stands in the doorway.
Mike walks in, closing the door behind him.
“Take a seat,” the voice says. A woman sits behind a desk, gesturing towards a comfy armchair near a tall window overlooking a small courtyard filled with green trees and multicoloured flowers, a fountain in the middle trickling calmly.
Mike sits down in the chair the woman indicated, as she gets up from behind the desk and takes the other armchair, which is partially facing the window, partially facing the other chair. “I’m Doctor Singh. It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Greene. May I call you Michael, or do you prefer Mike?”
Doctor Singh’s smile is gentle and encouraging. Mike seems to be having difficulty meeting her eye, choosing instead to look out the window at the water flowing down the fountain. He does manage to mutter out, “I, uh… I prefer Mike.”
“Mike. Could you perhaps tell me what brings you in today?” Dr Singh’s whole demeaner is calm and encouraging.
“What, you don’t have my information in your file, or whatever?” Mike grunts, shifting in his chair, clearly uncomfortable about being in therapy and the prospect of having to open up to someone.
“I do have your medical records. But I would like to hear from you personally about why you’ve decided to seek my help.”
“I didn’t decide.” Mike said curtly, before wincing. “Ah, sorry. I mean no disrespect, I don’t mean to be rude, I just…” he trails off, and Dr Singh waits patiently for him to continue. Mike sighs deeply, before saying, “I promised my friend that I would come and see you, let you help me. But if I’m honest, I think I’m beyond help. It’s pointless even trying. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Mike starts to get up out of him chair, before Dr Singh says, “No one is beyond help, Mike.” Mike finally looks her in the eyes, halfway out of the chair. A beat of silence passes, with neither breaking eye contact. She’s clearly figuring out the best tactic to get Mike to open up and let his guard down. “Your friend must mean a lot to you. It’s not an easy thing to agree to go to therapy. Why don’t you tell me about them?”
Another beat of silence, before Mike sinks back down into his seat. The barest hint of a triumphant smile appears on Dr Singh’s face before disappearing so fast I’m almost convinced I didn’t see it.
“Major Peters, Harry. We go way back. We joined the army together, and he quickly worked his way up the ranks. Always smarter than me,” Mike says with a small smile and a chuckle. “He was in charge of our old unit, him, Ryan, Tucker, Matthews, me… Willis… We were the best unit they had back in the day, sent out on all sorts of missions. Peters, he made sure we all made it back home at the end of the day. Saved my ass more times than I’d care to admit. I left the army a while ago, but the old unit, we all still meet up when we can. The last time we met up was just last weekend, but uh, it was for Willis’ funeral. That was when Peters made me promise to come here.”
Dr Singh makes a couple of notes. “Was there any particular event that caused Peters to make you promise to seek help?”
Mike goes silent again. After a few minutes of silence, Dr Singh returns to her previous tact. “Why don’t you tell me some stories of what you and your unit got up to. Minus any national security details of course,” she says with a laughing smile.
Mike lets out a brief chuckle at that, but after a moment of contemplation, does begin telling Dr Singh stories of the antics he and his unit got up to in their heyday.
It’s enjoyable, listening to Mike’s old stories. Hopefully, over the weeks, he will start opening up to Dr Singh. It’s clear to see she genuinely wants to help people. I hope she can help Mike.
Joanna Yang:
When I return to Joanna, I see her absentmindedly eating a sandwich while staring, deep in thought, at an open case file. Taking a closer look I see it’s full of reports and crime scene photos. The photos I can see show a secluded area in a park with blood spatters. When Joanna moves one of the photos, I see the pale face of a young woman, and quickly look away before I can see anything more.
How can you eat while looking at photos like that?!
Joanna looks up with initial surprise, before realising it’s me, going back to studying the case file. “Desensitisation, I guess. Platt got another case this morning, and matched the knife wounds to those on Anna Ferris, the nurse you witness murdered.”
What? For a moment I think I misheard. Or at least, I hoped I misheard.
“Deborah Moore, 24. According to her flatmates, she was out at a local club last night, and called them at midnight to tell them she was coming home early because ‘some creep’ wouldn’t leave her alone. Platt is currently trying to find a description, but considering the matching knife wounds, and the similar victim profile, I wouldn’t be surprised if the description matches your Richard Wilkes.”
The world around me fades out as I take in this information.
He’s killed again. He won’t stop! Is this my fault somehow? Should I go back to observing him and try to stop him somehow? But what if I can’t? What if I have to watch him kill someone else?! What if –?!
“HEY!” Joanna’s voice cuts through my panic, shocking me back into focus. I see her holding her head, a look of combined annoyance and concern on her face. “Hey,” her voice takes on a softer tone now. “We’re going to get him, ok? You don’t have to be any more involved than you want to be. This isn’t your fault in any way, there’s nothing you could have done.”
I take a deep breath. Psychologically speaking, at least, since I don’t actually have the physical means to breathe.
Ok. Thanks. Sorry for panicking.
“No need to apologise. You’re not used to this kind of thing, of course it’s gonna rattle you. Just try to stay as calm as possible if you can? You panicking gives me a headache.” Joanna says with a slight smile.
I stay silent for a while longer, absentmindedly looking around the room we’re in, in an attempt to ground myself. I could help catch Richard Wilkes. I promised I would. I just have to figure out how, without working myself into a panic.
Wait… Joanna gets a headache whenever I panic. If I assume other recipients would react in the same way, could I use that against Richard Wilkes somehow?
No, that’s crazy. I’m crazy for even thinking it.
Right..?
Lena Bleu:
Joanna would be reading over the new case file for a while yet, in between entering and releasing things from the evidence locker of course, so I decided to leave her be. I didn’t want to see any more crime photos. I’m still in two minds about the case, part of me wanting nothing more to do with it, the other part of me desperate to get involved and give Richard Wilkes’ victims the justice they deserve.
To distract myself from all these confusing thoughts, I go visit Lena.
I find her walking around a garden centre with Georgia and Mack. It’s beautiful, the last of the summer flowers bright among the grass, and the trees above showing hints of orange as the first of their leaves welcomed the fall. A small stream ran along the path, trickling down artfully placed rocks into swirls and eddies beneath. Everything was calm and peaceful, Lena walking along happily. She certainly seems to be in much higher spirits than yesterday.
While walking around, Lena sees someone kneeling down over a flowerbed, planting flowers. Lena tilts her head, watching, before asking Georgia, “I thought you only got flowers in spring? Why are they planting flowers this late?”
“Well, why don’t we go ask?” Georgia replied.
They headed towards the person planting the flowers. Lena hovered, hesitating. “Go on,” Georgia nudged her, encouragingly, as the person, Quinn according to their name-tag, looked up with a smile.
“Can I help you?” Quinn asked.
“Um… I wanted to know why you were planting flowers when it’s not spring.” Lena says, looking at her feet.
“I’m planting these because they are fall plants, they thrive this time of year. I’ve been planting a bunch of various plants today, this is the last lot. They’re called Aster’s.” Quinn had a gentle smile as they explained all of this, gesturing to the lilac-y blue flowers. “Do you want to help? If that’s ok with your grandparents?”
Lena looks up at Georgia, who nods with a smile. Lena grins, and kneels down next to Quinn. “I’m Quinn, what’s your name?”
“Lena.”
Quinn talks Lena through planting the Aster plants. “Ok, Lena. Here, you’ve got to dig out a hole, not too deep, that’s it, and now we take the plant and put it in, that’s it, now we tamp down the earth around it so it doesn’t fall over as it grows. Well done! Now for the next one.” Lena happily spends the next half hour or so helping Quinn plant flowers, with Georgia and Mack walking around the nearby bushes flowerbeds, keeping an eye on Lena.
They finish planting, Lena looking proudly at her work. “Thanks for the help, Lena,” Quinn says, holding her hand up for a high-five.
“Thanks for letting me help. It was fun! And relaxing! And I want to come back and plant more stuff again!” Lena says happily, high-fiving Quinn.
Georgia and Mack come over to join Lena and Quinn, who turns to them. “You know, we do actually have a volunteer programme on the weekends. This place is massive after all, and takes a lot to maintain. It’s fairly simple stuff, similar to what Lena helped me with just now. She’s welcome to join. Of course, since she’s a minor she’ll need a named guardian to volunteer with her.”
Lena grins widely, going up to Georgia and Mack. “Please? You guys can volunteer too! Or just one of you. Please?”
Georgia smiles, patting Lena’s head. “We’ll have to talk with your parents, make sure they’re ok with it, but I don’t see why not. Mack used to be a landscaper, and he’s been looking for a way to get back outside, haven’t you, dear?”
Mack nods, stroking his chin in thought. “It’s not a bad idea. Hell, I might come along regardless just to see. And I’m sure you’re parents will be fine with it. The doctors said light exercise and plenty fresh air would help your recovery after all.” Lena hugs Mack and Georgia.
The three of them head off home, with Lena yelling out “Thank you!” to Quinn, waving goodbye as they leave.
Comments (0)
See all