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𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 : 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

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tw. suicide

"Is that--?"

I didn't let Pandora finish before I was taking her arm and I heard a stern voice behind us snap, "Girls--"

We moved fast, our feet shuffling against the ground as we made it to the big doors and threw one open. The rain hit us instantly and I stuffed the photograph I had stolen under my shirt as we made a mad dash across the street and to my car. I fumbled with the keys before it finally unlocked and we were pushing ourselves inside.

I started the car and pulled out of the parking space without even attempting to slow my racing heart, catching one last glimpse of the church and seeing a distant figure standing in the doorway watching us leave. 

Monster, monster, you're a monster!

I didn't get a good enough look at him but through my rearview mirror, I noticed he was wearing a black suit and didn't go back inside until I feverishly turned back onto the main road towards campus.

Pandora sat dazed in my passenger seat, her eyes staring forward as she asked, "That was your dad in the picture, wasn't it?"

I nodded, keeping one hand on the wheel to reach up and wipe the rain from my face before peeling the picture out from under my shirt. We stopped at a light and I got a good look at what was written on the back. It looked like fresh paint, or Sharpie. I handed it over to Pandora and she took it gently, the ink smearing against her fingers. "Whoever put it up wanted me to find it, it was there for a reason."

"Any clue who the other guy in the photo is?"

I shook my head and looked over at the image, the other man was handsome, younger than my father. "Not a single one, could've been someone he worked with or someone he helped through the job."

"Did you ever meet the guys he worked with?" she asked, laying the photo against her knee as the light turned green.

I turned my attention back to the road and shook my head, "Not really. Only times I went to see him was to drop off lunch and I did that, I don't know, maybe twice? I barely remember anyone he worked with, but even then, I only ever said hello to them in passing." Or said nothing at all. 

"Maybe he didn't work with him then, just a friend outside the business?"

"I've still never seen him before," I said, running a hand through my hair. "But, granted, I never did meet many of my parent's friends outside work."

"Definitely ask your mom, she has to know more than she's letting on," she told me before holding the picture up. "What I don't understand is why leave this for you? 'Cause, obviously someone knew you were coming and I would say Ace, but even he's not that clever. Like, what's this supposed to tell us?"

I laughed as I said, "Maybe it's the guy who really killed my dad."

Pandora laughed, too, but I knew the photo was a link. Just another clue to add to my long list of questions. I knew the photo meant more, it was left there for a reason and I just didn't know whether it was good or not. It was a warning to ward me off, or it was a welcome home, inviting me into the game I didn't know I had been a part of this whole time. Ace told me to come here for answers and I might just have found something that could clear up all the accusations and newfound secrets, only it came with more questions then answers.

~

When we got back to campus, we went to the cafeteria for lunch. We grabbed sandwiches and drinks before finding a table inside and away from the rain. I kept the photograph tucked away inside my bag. I didn't need people, Ace specifically, coming up and asking questions.

Pandora and I talked quietly amongst ourselves before our attention was drawn across the cafeteria and at who were entering. In true Twilight fashion, the preps sauntered in one after another. I caught John's powerful eye and Pandora murmured across from me, "Oh no."

John broke from the pack and came towards our table, one hand in his pocket and the other gripping a textbook. He stood before us and smiled, looking towards Pandora and saying, "Hey, Panda, heard you skipped music."

I looked over at her and she looked tense under John's gaze. "Does Cassandra know?"

He looked back at his group and they all stood impatiently waiting for him to return. "Maybe."

"Did you come over here to tell me that you two are going to rat me out?" she asked, sinking into her seat. She had a tinge of fear in her stressed face and I turned to John and said unhappily, "Back off, Walker."

He smiled at that, leaning against the table and blocking Pandora with his back. "Come eat lunch with us."

"No."

"And why not?"

"I have better company here."

He looked back at Pandora and smiled, "Both of you come, then."

I caught a glimpse of her face and was holding back a laugh before ducking her head down and taking a bite from her sandwich.

"Another time."

He rolled his eyes, standing with a great smile, "I'll get you to come one day, Blaire, just you wait." He walked off with a laugh and Blondie stared me down from behind him, shaking her head before turning back to Cherry in line.

Pandora swallowed, "He just wants to get into your pants, don't listen to him, ever."

"He thinks I'm a game," I sighed with a small smile. Oh to be played with, to be lost in something other than your head.

"A game he thinks he's going to win," she groaned. "I'm telling you, every new girl that comes through those big doors, he just has to try and convert."

"Did he really not try with you?"

She shook her head. "Not like I really minded, his advances always seemed...creepy."

"What's creepy?" a new voice popped up and both our heads turned. Ace stood before us with a plate of spaghetti, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder.

Pandora and I looked at each other awkwardly before back at him and she spoke first, uneasily, "The preps recruitment style."

"Ah," he said before sitting, uninvited.

I knew both of us wouldn't have declined him a spot but I couldn't help but want to inch away from him for a moment. I still didn't know whether or not to truly trust him, but the picture burning a hole in my bag told me otherwise.

He looked at me with a sly smirk as he twirled his fork in his pasta, "Why, did they try to recruit you?"

"They tried."

"He'll just keep coming until you say yes," he told me, resting an elbow on the table. "Better to give in then to have him keep stalking you."

I shrugged and said with a faint grin, "It's kinda funny though, watching him try and then seeing Blondie's reaction."

"Blondie?" both Pandora and Ace laughed before looking past them and towards her in line. She stood with one hand on John's arm, twirling a strand of her blonde hair with one finger.

"Love it," Pandora chuckled, pulling a piece of tomato from her sandwich and discarding it to the side.

"So, you tell her all my wild theories yet?" Ace asked, he was relaxed in his seat as he brought his fork up to his mouth. 

I couldn't say the same for myself, my shoulders tensing as I narrowed my eyes and said slowly, "Yes. Why? Trying to get recruited by us now?"

He smiled, wiping his mouth with a jerk of his thumb.

"Heard you're sorta in John's group anyways, why sit with us?" Pandora asked, staring at him intently from her spot. I wondered if she trusted him, yet, I also wondered if this was the start of something else.

"Cass and I are on the outs right now," he shrugged before laughing out, "and besides, why not pull the last straw by sitting with her enemy."

"Enemy?" I smiled, picking up my sandwich. "Hardly."

"But in all seriousness, does she know everything?" he asked me point blank and the two looked at me as I nodded, "Everything and more."

"More?" he questioned. "What more than the fact that I accused your dead dad of staging his own death?"

"The fact that it all goes deeper than that," Pandora answered, wrapping up the leftovers of her food. "The fact that we found a secret tunnel in her house last night."

He feigned sadness, looking at me and saying, "And what? You forget to invite me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, considering I thought you were a crazy person at the time, you were, unfortunately, not invited."

"Still think I'm crazy?"

I thought for a moment because in all honesty, I didn't know. I didn't know anything anymore. Madness, madness, came a calling. "Not sure yet, we have a lot to figure out before I deem you sane."

"Fair enough." He paused to eat more before looking up and asking, "So, what's up with the tunnel? Not going to say you're both the crazy ones now, but a tunnel underneath a house? Doesn't seem...real."

"Oh," Pandora laughed. "It's real all right, went down there with her last night. Scary as hell, too."

"I'll believe it when I see it, I guess," he said, skeptical. I understood him not truly believing us because I was doing the same to him, acting the exact way.

"Come on, Blaire, let's leave psycho-killer and get to math," Pandora laughed as we stood. Before I could leave the table, Ace grabbed my wrist and looked up at me, blue eyes narrowing. He spoke in a low voice and only to me as Pandora walked off, "Trust me when I say this Blaire, that she's right about everything."

"About what?"

"All of this, all of the secrets unfolding, it goes deeper than you think."

~

After the school day was over, I was in a rush to get home. I had a lot of questions to ask my mom about. I needed to know more about what she knew, about what my father knew, too. Besides the long list of ghostly questions, the ones about the tunnel and its true use was burning more brightly in my mind. So, when I got home, I was excited to see her car in the driveway.

I was even more excited to find her seated in the living room with a stack of papers next to her. When I entered, she looked up in surprise, gasping out, "Blaire, honey! You're home!"

I tossed my backpack down by one of the lounge chairs before plunging my body into it. "We need to talk."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. There were ink stains covering her fingers and I noticed her nails had been chewed down, a nervous habit she had. "Not right now, I have a lot of grunt work to do for the hospital--"

"I know, but I'm sorry," I rushed out, sitting on the edge of my seat, "but you told me that dad was a necromancer last night and that I could see ghosts and--"

"Did you see another?"

I nodded slowly, hesitant. I didn't want to make her cry again, much less stress her out to the point that she couldn't complete her work assignments. We needed money and good recommendations from the hospital and that wouldn't happen if he work was unfinished and left covered with tear stains. "At school," I said finally. "A little girl."

Her face dropped. "I was praying this had all been some kind of dream last night, that none of it really even happened."

You have no idea.

"Please, just tell me everything, I have a right to know--"

"Not yet," she said, standing. She fumbled with her papers and her purse, stuffing them inside as she tried to hurry off and leave. I stood quicker though, coming to stand in front of her and block her from her path. 

Just say it, Blaire. Just say what's eating you up inside. Just ask. 

"What did dad do? Did he really die in that car accident?"

Her head snapped up and she stared at me, brows furrowed and her forehead creased. Panic. She was panicking. "What? Who told you that?"

"A kid from school--"

"It was that Dolion kid, wasn't it?" she mocked, shaking her head before pointing a finger at me, "The uncle tried to blame the church for what happened to his parents, heard it was a big mess. That family just loves to spread lies--"

"So it's true, dad worked with his family?"

She nodded, her eyes searching my face. "Don't tell anyone about what you've seen, honey, the less people to know the better, okay?"

"But what is there to tell?" I whispered, watching her shift from one foot to the other, she was nervous. She's hiding things, the little voice in my head echoed. She's hiding things just like dad, just like you. "What even am I? What even was dad? What-what--" I swallowed. "--what am I?"

"He helped people, that's all you need to know," she said back, finally pushing past me. The worry in her voice and face told me otherwise, she was still hiding something from me. But wasn't everyone hiding something? Ashamed with a belly full of secrets. "That's all anyone ever needs to know."

"So all of this is real? The ghosts, that weird tunnel under the stairs, the church?"

She stopped walking from me, her hand on the staircase railing, one foot on the steps first. She seemed reluctant to tell me anything, like hiding it all would make things go back to normal. Instead, she avoided my question with a question of her own, "The church? Did you go there today?"

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it, watching the frustration cross her face then soften like she was fighting with herself not to be angry. I was doing the same. I could see the anger in her eyes but I could also see the level of fear she had in her, she was scared of something and I was afraid to ask what.

"Don't go there anymore, honey, that place will won't do you any good," she whispered, pleading with me. "Everything is really complicated right now, so just focus on what you do know."

But what did I know? 

I knew my mother was lying and I knew that I had a right to know everything, especially now that I was twisted up in the middle of it all. I knew that Ace was right, even now potentially about my dad, and he was right about the church holding darker secrets than anyone could've ever imagined.

And I intended to find out every single one.

When she turned to go up the stairs, she spoke so softly I didn't even think she was the one speaking to me as she said, "Don't go asking questions you don't want the answers to because nothing good can come from this. Not now at least." She was halfway up the stairs when she spoke normally, "I have an early shift tomorrow, so I won't be home when you leave for school."

I only nodded, standing still in my spot. She was hiding something from me, something about the church and about dad. That evil, nagging thing inside me wanted to keep prying, to crack her open until everything I wanted came spilling out; blood, guts and all. But I held back my urge and grabbed my backpack instead, I had homework I needed to do instead of standing there and questioning my origins just like my father probably did when he first began to see them.

He saw the ghosts, too, and I only imagined who else could too.

Who else was plagued with images of little dead things?

When I went upstairs later that evening, my mother's bedroom door was shut but I could hear her moving around on the other side. I paused to listen, creeping as close to the door as I could without making a noise, avoiding the spots in the carpeting that creaked and groaned. I could hear her going through her drawers and the soft sound of clothes falling to the ground.

Was she having a mental breakdown, too? Was she on the verge of losing it all?

What surprised me though was that I could hear her talking to someone, her voice hushed and desperate. "There's no time, I have to do it--"

She paused, listening to the other person on the phone. She sounded frustrated and a little terrified, and I knew it was because of what she was keeping from me. What she was terrified of saying. 

"Just like we planned, it has to happen," she suddenly erupted before whispering, "There's no time, she saw them. Cage was right, about everything."

Louise Lake saying my father's name made my breath hitch in my throat because what did he know that she didn't? What secrets did he end up taking with him to an early grave?

"No, no, I understand," she said and I heard her move towards the door. "I know what needs to happen." I backed away, jerking myself towards my room but I didn't hear her door open as I hid, my heart racing because what needed to happen? What was she planning?

A terrified thought ran through me of her leaving me, of her running. She would never do that, I had to remind myself through the panic in my throat. Your mom loves you. She would never leave you.

I settled in my bedroom to finish the last bits of my homework but I wanted to sneak back into the hallway to listen, I wanted to know more with such an intense craving that my curiosity was practically clawing at my skin. There were so many things I didn't know about and she was the only one who could tell me anything and it seemed she was content to go around spilling them all on the phone.

I should've known I wasn't the only curious being here when my eyesight began to fade to gray, seeping in from the corners before coating my vision like a fog. I pushed my books aside to sit on the edge of my bed when the figure appeared in front of me. She wore the same tattered dress I had seen her in the first time and she was smiling instead of glowering.

"Looks like you need some good undead advice," she grinned and the air felt cooler the closer she got to me.

I wasn't afraid this time, I was levelheaded, calm, I was cool. Cool girl, cool girl, have you come to me? This was my new normal and I just had to get used to it, just a small hurdle to jump over. "Why are you here?"

"Seemed like you needed some help, that's all," she said, picking at the blanket hanging off the end of my bed. "Really? This color?"

I frowned, sure the yellow was rusty but it was soft and if it felt good then that was all that mattered. I shook my head, I didn't need to be getting distracted as I asked her, "Where even are we? Why is everything gray in here?"

She smiled, barring her teeth. "Those questions aren't mine to answer, necromancer."

I pointed at her, exclaiming, "There! You called me that the last time and my mom called my dad one, too--"

"He was a powerful necromancer during his time here," she said to me before coming to stand in front of me. She wasn't floating like the last time, her bare feet touching the ground and it almost felt like she was real and not a ghost. Just another friend coming to visit, to hang out and relax. "Did a lot of good for a lot of people when he was around. But these aren't questions for me, they're for him. He'll appear to you." Her smile faltered and she shrugged before waving her hand as if it didn't matter as she said, "Well, I mean, he'll appear at some point."

"So, you've been around here for a long time," I stated, crossing one leg over my knee and bouncing my foot. "My mom said she used to find me talking to a 'woman' when I would be alone as a kid, assuming that was you?"

"Mostly."

"Mostly? So there are more of you in our house?"

She smiled again and she looked beautiful. "We come and go but I like it here, I liked it with you. Plus, your father was always nice to me and spent some evenings talking to me so I appreciated it, made me want to stay longer."

"What am I supposed to do for you?" I asked, uncrossing my legs as I began to get nervous because if she knew what I was, she could explain it all to me. Everything. "What's a necromancer supposed to even do?"

"Well, you're supposed to send us to heaven or hell but I'm guessing you already knew that."

I nodded.

"You'll figure it out eventually but as for me wanting to pass over, I don't. Not yet at least, so don't worry about having to use your little powers on me quite yet," she sighed, looking around my room. She was studying the place, eyeing the photographs on the walls like it would tell her exactly who I was. "There are some benefits to seeing a ghost."

"Like what?"

"Time freezes, so as long as we're with you, you can do whatever you need. You can move around, sneak about, and no one will notice. They won't see you moving, they won't even know if you're talking to them," she said, a sly smile coming to her face. "That means you can sneak into your mother's room and find out what she's really up to without her knowing you were ever there."

"And the down side?"

"What down side?"

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "There's always a down side to things, so, just spit out the consequences and what not."

She licked her dry lips and said nonchalantly, "If I were to disappear or leave you while you were sneaking around, then the gray would fade and time would resume, except you'll just appear wherever you've gone. So, ultimately, you'll be caught and have a lot of questions to answer like 'how did you just appear' or 'did you just teleport?'"

I stared at her, she was older than me, potentially around the same age as my mother. Her hair was dark and slightly dirty, it was pushed to the side and cascading down one shoulder. She was beautiful in the gray, stunning and enchantingly so, and I wondered if she knew that. "Who are you?" I asked finally, I didn't know her name and I didn't even know who she was but I wanted to know. 

I want to know you.

She ignored me because she went straight into, "Let's go snoop in your mom's room before you chicken out." As she drifted through the wall like a true ghost, I left my bedroom and went into the hallway. I watched my mother's door open and the ghost stuck her head through the opening with a smile. "Are you coming or not?"

I nodded, finding myself sneaking around as if I was going to get caught, stepping with caution and my hands by my chest. I was fine, everything was fine, Louise Lake would be frozen and unable to see me, and I'd be fine. And it was true. I stepped into her bedroom and she was frozen in action, looking at the phone in her hand. There were papers scattered across her bed and she had her lockbox out.

I moved around her, looking at her phone and saw the caller ID looking back at me. I frowned, "It's an unknown caller, but it seemed like she knew them earlier. Talking like they were old friends, maybe."

The woman was sitting on the bed, looking at the papers and she didn't look up at the sound of my voice, only nodding. "These look like financial statements, durable health care and financial power of attorney, even her will, is your mother dying?"

I moved away from the phone to look at the papers as I said, "Not that I was aware of, no." The ghost was right, these were all the papers one would potentially need if they were going to die soon. I looked at the health care power of attorney files, seeing my name stated. "What do these mean?"

"Means that if your mother was on life support, you're the one who can decide what the doctors do and you can access all of her healthcare information too," she explained before pointing to the financial power of attorney statements, "Seems like someone by the name of V. Macabre is going to be taking care of the financials, like who's going to be paying your bills on your home and whatnot. But these might only come in handy if your mother was incapacitated or, this is just an example, in a coma. It's just so someone will be able to take care of these things for her while she's technically 'away.'"

I studied the papers, even getting a good look at her will. I would be getting the house and a fair share of money, being the only family member left to inherit what little wealth I assumed we had. I was wrong, as I looked at the numbers, at least just partially wrong. The name V. Macabre was listed again, this time stating that he would help provide the money for our home, to help pay off bills and help keep me financially stable living here on my own, since I was legally an adult.

"I've seen that name before," I whispered, pointing to V. Macabre. Victor, Victor, Victor, who are you really? "He works at the Clandestine Church."

"He worked with your father," the woman murmured as she placed the papers back down on the bed. "Whatever your mother has planned, it doesn't seem good."

"Maybe she's just checking all her boxes again, just in case," I said but I knew that it wasn't the case. I was just trying to fool myself into believing the best, to ignore the worst because it was coming, I just didn't know when. The woman guided me out of the room and I closed the door softly behind us. She turned to leave, to make it back to my room but I grabbed her wrist, surprised that I could feel and touch her. The cool wispy feel of her was intoxicating. When she looked at me, there was a flash of pity in her eyes before they softened into a smile as I asked in a small voice, "Who are you? Why are you helping me?"

"Your father was good to me, it's only fair I return the favor and besides," she smiled, reaching out and brushing her fingers lightly over my cheek, "you're feisty and different from the others and you're new, you need all the help you can get." 

She made a move to leave again and the gray was already beginning to fade as I shook my head and called out to her, "You didn't tell me who you were!"

She was still smiling as she said, "My name is Beatrice Moon and I was murdered."

When she disappeared fully, the color came crawling back in and I could see anew. I crept away from the bedroom door before sneaking back into my room, already going for my computer. I pulled up a new browser and searched the ghost's name, because what else was I supposed to do besides worry about my mother's secret plot?

There wasn't a lot that came up, mostly spam and articles featuring either 'Beatrice' or just 'Moon.' But, near the bottom of the first search page was a headline reading 'Moon Murder Case Solved.'

It was easy to find more of my information on her when her picture was the first thing I saw as the article loaded. She was beautiful, even in color. Brown, blonde hair, devilishly gorgeous dark eyes. I read the article slowly, finally understanding the woman from underneath the staircase.

1953, March 15th, suspect arrested for the murder of Beatrice Moon (37). Moon, found murdered in the home she shared with suspect Martin Turncoat (45). Body was found on the staircase, deep lacerations to the arms, face, and neck. Turncoat, arrested earlier this night, has confessed to the killing of his wife, Moon. Claims that Moon was having a sexual relationship with his boss, allegedly. Police confirm tonight that they arrested the suspect from a gas station trying to purchase alcohol with a fake ID under the name of William Crystal and was taken to the county jail where he confessed and is now awaiting trial and conviction.

The pictures of the home loaded and the dots all connected, why she was here and why she didn't want to leave, not yet at least. The front of my house stared back at me from the screen, slightly different because I knew our house has had some renovations since the fifties, but nonetheless, it was still my house.

Our house.

I felt at ease, knowing the truth about her. It did make my heartbreak for her, having her life be uprooted like that and to be left roaming the earth as a spirit, restless and nearly forgotten. She had deserved to grow old, to get a divorce from her psycho husband, and to have children with someone who truly appreciated her. Instead, her life was cut short and she remained in the same home she was murdered in.

Lost for eternity. Stuck. Frozen. Wandering.

But she seemed to enjoy the company she had been given, how my father had been such a big part in her afterlife. There were so many things I still didn't know and understand but Beatrice had been right, she wasn't the one who could answer my questions. My father was the only one who could explain things to me, truthfully and honestly and actually understand the things he spoke about. My mother didn't know much and all I'm sure she did know was that she was scared, and I wasn't sure of what.

I was afraid I wouldn't ever know, not yet at least and the fearful part of me knew I'd find out soon. Answers were coming and she knew that just like me.

But it wouldn't be much later into the night when I'd be finally going to sleep that I'd hear something fall and think nothing of it. Because why should I fear the noises in the night when it'd only be a ghost floating around ready to awake me peacefully? The house already had a ghost, so why should I be that surprised to hear things fall over throughout the night?

But I'd only be a little worried when I would notice my mother's car still in the driveway early the next morning. She had told me she would be at the hospital for an early shift and to see her car sitting in the driveway, still in the same spot from the day before, I was confused. But not too worried. Not yet.

I wouldn't be worried until later that afternoon. I wouldn't be worried until I'd come home for a boring day of school to find her car still in the driveway, the newspaper still in the mailbox. Something to know about my mother is that she always got the newspaper, she'd always bring it in once it arrived and to see it still in the mailbox made me worried.

Worry, worry, worry can eat you alive. Worry can devour and kill.

I tore through the house, calling out her name because why the hell wouldn't she bring the newspaper inside? And why the hell wouldn't she go to work unless something was really terribly wrong?

I rushed up the stairs, gripping the railing as I pulled my feet up the steps like I suddenly weighed a ton. When I got to her bedroom door, I found it locked and I was too frantic to search for the key peacefully as I threw my body into the door because, god, I knew what was beyond the door. I knew what I'd find because I had been oblivious to the noises during the night, I had brushed off the paperwork Beatrice and I had found, I ignored it all.

Mama, mama, please! Mama,  I love you, you promised, you promised--

When the door finally opened, it swung back hard and slammed against the wall inside her room and I froze where I was standing. The fallen chair was the noise I had heard, how it probably was knocked down by the thrashing. The struggle.

I could barely scream, it felt as though the breath had been knocked out of me. Her body moved slightly, like a breeze had suddenly been caught throughout the room. But for me, the room ran hauntingly still, the air warm. Her feet hovered above the ground at least two feet, my mother had never been the tallest.

Her face was splotchy, her lips blue. There were scratch marks against her neck that bulged around the tight rope, as if she had changed her mind once her body dropped. Did you change your mind about leaving me? Did you regret it? Her skin was swollen and bruised around the rope that strung her up like a puppet for a show, lifeless and in need of a host.

I didn't even notice myself pulling my phone free of my pocket and dialing nine-one-one. I could barely recognize my own voice as I choked out my address to the worried responder who told me to stay put, help was on the way.

Help was on the way, but not really. You've been gone long before now.

She had died during the night and I didn't even bother to get up and check on her. The noise I had heard should have made me get up, it would've on a normal night but I had made assumptions, I had fooled myself. 

You're a fool, the gods laughed. Foolish, little, ghost girl. This world was not made for you and her.

Her eyes were still open, lifeless and unseeing. I stumbled away from her and I saw the papers in a neat stack on her bed, like this had all been planned. But of course it had been, she had prepared for this very moment for who knows how long. How long did you know you were going to leave me? How long did it take for you to gather your things? It could've been once she figured I could see the ghosts, yeah, maybe that was it.

There was a small envelope on her bed as I moved to it and I couldn't exactly feel my legs, my eyesight was blurry and not in the spooky way. The envelope had my name written on it in her neat handwriting, completely contrasting to the way doctors usually scribbled. She had always been neat, practical, alive.

I opened the envelope with stiff fingers as I saw black dots. I barely had time to read the note and stuff it into my pocket when a sudden restricting fear collapsing in my chest broke out as my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

You're next, it read in her beautiful handwriting.

I fell to the ground with an agonizing thud and I stared up at my mother's lifeless face, her limp body strung up like a dying flag, useless. Although her eyes were unmoving, I couldn't help but feel their undying stare as I blinked back consciousness like a disease.

Her eyes, my eyes, stared down into me. A reflection of her would haunt me for the rest of my life, every time I would look into the mirror. I'll see you, I'll see you and I won't forget what you did. I won't forget what happened.

You're next, the suicide note echoed in my head. I blinked once, twice, three times before I was lost in unconsciousness with two words following me all the way down. 

lmao not me rewriting parts of this chap too....yall gonna b in for a big surprise when u come back to this and find it different AGAIN

rip blaire's mom...sorry queen.

comment/vote or you'll never find out why this had to happen