Three Years Later...

Nothing changed since Morgan's death. The investigation was still ongoing, at least I thought so. No one called me, Morgan's mom was distant and I was on my own. No one informed me of anything involving the incident since. It was...over. At least I thought so.

There was literally no one else in the movie theater besides one guy who was staring blankly at his phone down in the front. Morgan and I had always preferred to sit at the top row, directly in the middle. We usually put our purses to either side of us keeping a seat in the middle to make it look like we were reserving some seats, which ensured more elbow room for us both. Once the movie started we would sit right next to each other and smile at the success of keeping other people away from us. There is nothing worse than having to share an armrest for two hours or more with a complete stranger.

We had always loved going to the movies. When we were younger, before we had our driver's licenses and could head to the movie theater on our own, our mom's would always take turns giving us rides in and more often than not just dropping us off so they could get their grocery shopping or nails or hair done. It was our time, but it was also our mom's time as well. Though we could only get our moms to give us rides in two or three times a month, once we were driving Morgan and I hit the movies at least once a week. It was a chance for us to spend time together in the car, alone, just talking about the most random things that bothered us, made us laugh, made us cry. It was some of these drives into the city to the movie theater that made us so close. Sometimes we would pack a cooler of snacks and beer or wine coolers and take the back roads all the way there just noshing on sandwiches or chips and guzzling a couple of "adult" beverages to pack a nice little buzz once the movie started.

Those were the days.

I sat there now, for the first time in my life, alone. No purses, no nice drunken buzz to keep us giggling through the movie, no stories, no Morgan. Tears started streaming down my face again. I was burning hot and couldn't process what I was even feeling. I fought the urge to light up a cigarette right there in the movie theater. What could they do? Mr. Facebook down there didn't look like he would give a damn and the worst any of the teenagers who worked there could do would be to ask me to leave. Or ask their manager to ask me to leave. And what would I even care?

The lights began to dim indicating that the movie was about to start. I wiped my cheeks and leaned back in my seat, kicking my legs up onto the seat in front of me. Just as if Morgan was next to me, pretending she was there and entirely ignoring the fact that she wasn't. I felt a cold chill brush my cheek, then my arm, and it sent tingles down my spine. I had a weird sense that I was being watched, that someone was sitting next to me, where Morgan should have been. I knew that was impossible but I couldn't shake the urge that there was a lingering presence lurking near me.

The previews for the latest upcoming flicks started. I saw the same clown movie that Morgan was talking about just last night and understood why in the hell she had wanted to bail and opt to not sit through this movie. I didn't really blame her.

The movie started and I was paying no attention to it. Something brushed my hair again and the hair on my own arms began to stand up.

"Morgan?" I whispered.

The guy on his phone must have heard me, he turned around and glared, then returned back to Facebook on his phone. Seriously, who pays for a movie only to sit and stare at their phone? Maybe he was a movie critic, I thought to give him the benefit of the doubt.

My bag fell to the floor as if someone had simply knocked it off of the seat next to me. Did I flinch? Maybe I unknowingly had a muscle spasm and swatted at it. I certainly was not in the right frame of mind to not know that I did such a thing, so I rolled with it. Getting off of my seat, I knelt down on the floor to try and pick up the spilled contents. I felt around for the phone I just bought, I flipped it open to use the light to see what I had missed in my blind search for my lost items.

Reaching out I felt someone grab my hand. Then I heard a voice behind me.

"Miss... Can you please come with me?" the usher was standing at my heels directly hovering over me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just... My purse fell, I wasn't trying to bother anyone, it just fell... I'm just trying to grab my things. I'll leave if you want. It's not a big deal," I stammered.

"No, no, miss. It's okay. That's not what I need to talk with you about. Can you just please come with me? There is something you should see. Please," he looked pretty insistent.

"Look, can I borrow your flashlight? I just need to make sure I have all my stuff and I'll go with you, okay? Please?"

He nodded and shined his flashlight down at the sticky floor where I was kneeling.

It looked like I had everything, but as I felt under the seat I noticed that there was something there. What the hell? It felt like a hair clip. I never wore clips in my hair, if it was going anywhere it was to be tightly kept in a ponytail or messy bun. This wasn't mine, but I recognized it immediately.