Clydie's eyes flew open and the first waking thought to zip through her mind was...Sam was trapped in hell.

Oh god. Sam...

Almost instantly, a crushing wave of despair fell in on her, smothering her and sending an aching pain stabbing through her chest. Sam... 

 Sam was suffering and there was no way to help her.

Lying in the silence for a few moments, staring at the ceiling above her that was clean and bright, even in the soft, grey light of the early morning, she pulled in a few breaths and tried to put the events of the night before into some sort of order in her mind.

It seemed as if so many things had happened within such a short span of time, but the one thing that seemed to push forward through her thoughts was the possibility that she might not be completely insane, that she might not be losing her mind due to lingering mental trauma. Instead, there was a possibility...and rather a strong one, she had to believe...that she was, in fact, seeing what was left of her sister, and a couple of other people, who were all suffering in some dark abyss that was undoubtedly lorded over by an entity with horns and no soul to speak of, rather than walking through lush green fields and being cared for by beautiful, winged angels.

Now that the darkness of night had faded and her mind had rested, she could...hope...that things would seem less bleak and dire for her. She could...hope...that she could stop being so terrified of her sister. She needn't be. Not anymore.

What she was seeing might be a faded version of Sam, but it was still Sam. If it wasn't her imagination, and she had to believe that it wasn't, then it was her sister, trying to communicate with her in probably the only way she was able.

And it also struck her that she could let go of the notion that Sam was trying to drag her down into hell, because that wasn't possible. Sam had spent her entire life being the big sister, watching out for her and taking care of her. Sam had loved her. Sam would not want to drag her down into some dark and terrible place.

She would overlook the fact that Sam had tried to kill them both...that horrid day...because Sam had just not been in her right mind.

So, if Sam had simply been trying to get her attention, rather desperately, over the past two years, if Sam needed something from her, the least she could do was try to figure out what that was. Even though she couldn't do a damned thing to help Sam, she could at least try to...listen. She could try...

Somehow, the mere notion that her mind wasn't failing her, that she wasn't headed for the nearest asylum or perhaps an early, watery grave, filled her with a sense of calm and strength...and hope...that she hadn't felt in the longest time. In fact, it had been so long since she'd felt any semblance of either of those things that she found it hard not to sob.

Were it not for her decision to do things she wouldn't ordinarily do, she never would have agreed to go with Matt to the bonfire, she never would have spoken to that little girl, and she never would have seen the picture of Jessica. Without that chain of events, she would have spent the rest of her life, which likely wouldn't have been that long, thinking that she was stark raving mad. Surely, enough people had told her so over the past two years. But, now... Now maybe things could be different, maybe things could get better for herself and her parents.

And maybe, since she'd been hiding away from her life for the past two years, she could finally get back to it. Well, as much as she could with her dead sister showing up at every turn. Still, some version of a life, no matter how abnormal, was better than no life at all. 

Turning her gaze toward the recliner across the room, she found Julian stretched out there, a blanket over him, sleeping soundly. And suddenly it was time for her to go.

Tossing her blanket back, she sat up, finding her phone still clutched in her hand. At some point during the night, Julian had brought her clothes into the living room and placed them, all neatly folded, on the coffee table. As carefully and quietly as she could, she picked up her boots, her keys, and the pile of clothes, and crept out of the living room and toward the kitchen. Once in the dim, stone silent room, she began to shrug into her clothes with a speed that actually impressed her.

Trying to ignore the fact that Julian Donovan had folded up her underwear, which meant that he had seen and touched her underwear, she laced up her boots, wrapped her scarf around her neck and then folded up Julian's tee shirt and laid it on the kitchen table, relieved that Julian hadn't come along and caught her in an embarrassing moment. Phone in hand and keys in her pocket, she suddenly glanced around the space, realizing that it looked completely unused. There were no dishes around, no cooking implements, not even so much as a salt or pepper shaker. There was only a coffee pot and the two mugs they'd used the night before, sitting by the sink. It certainly didn't seem as if Julian Donovan spent very much time living in his house.  But, at least the house was clean, so who was she to judge?

Slinking over to the sliding glass door, she unlatched the lock and slid it open just enough to get through, carefully closing it behind her before turning and shooting across the deck and out into the yard.

Suddenly out of the warmth of the house and surrounded by the damp, grey morning, she felt a sense of freedom sweeping over her. It was so strong that for a second, she wasn't sure that her feet hadn't left the ground. For the first time in a very, very long time...she felt as if she was walking without a massive weight pushing her down into the earth.

It was almost startling, in a way, to feel so...light and easy, to be without that crushing pressure on her shoulders and creeping unease in her mind, to know, or at least hope, that she wasn't slowly descending into madness. In fact, she was just...wait.

What the hell was she?

She was seeing her dead sister, plus a couple of new people besides, so if she wasn't as loony as a bird, then she was obviously...weird? Was that the right way to look at it? She'd survived a near fatal car crash and she'd been left with a bit of residual...weirdness? 

 Well, weird she could absolutely live with, because it meant that she could still...live.

As she hurried down the wooden steps and hit the sand, she got her first look at the vast grey harbour and the ominous grey sky and she found herself filled with a sense of admiration. The harbour was beautiful, even if it was a bit somber and foreboding. Or maybe it was beautiful because it was somber and foreboding.

Walking along toward home, she took it all in, the waves rolling toward the dark sand, the moaning voice of the sea, the chill wind racing past, and she savored those things. She felt as if she could do that now, really feel things and really see them, without having to do it through a veil of misery.

When her house finally came into view through the morning mist, she felt a surge of fear race up her spine, but she tried to forcibly push it down. She had no reason to be afraid. Even though she knew she'd see Sam again, she had no reason to be scared. Not anymore.

She just had to keep reminding herself of that...

Just before she reached the rickety wooden steps, she slid her gaze over to the shadowy copse of evergreen trees and the massive gazebo now sitting there, looking rather out of place. But, the gazebo was the only thing looming there in the gloom. There was no sign of Sam or her new friends, and she had to admit, she was slightly relieved.

She might not have to be afraid of Sam, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to once again facing those voided eyes or those grasping hands.

At some point between the wooden steps and the back door, she decided that she wasn't going to tell her parents anything about the night before or what she'd discovered, thanks to the little girl on the beach. She'd put them through enough and it was more than clear that at least one of them wanted to be done with the entire situation, so she would give that to them. 

 And she certainly didn't see a need to put them through further torment by burdening them with the possibility that their oldest daughter wasn't at peace. She could carry that burden on her own, just like she'd been carrying the burden the entire time, without involving them any more than necessary.

At the door, she let herself into the house as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake her parents just yet. She wanted to get to her room, shower and change into some clean clothes, and get herself together before she had to face them, which she honestly wasn't looking forward to.

Inhaling the bitter scent of nicotine, she moved across the sticky kitchen floor and hurried through the shadowy house, the silence pressing against her ears. It hit her that maybe the house was a bit too silent. How could a person not feel anxious and uneasy with such a profound nothingness surrounding them. She decided then and there that as soon as they had internet service hooked up, she was going to have her TV going full time, just for the sake of the noise. In the meantime, she did have her old radio and though her dad hated that hippie music that was out there these days, she figured that Bieber guy was better than the stone cold silence. But, only just.

Making into the safety of her bedroom, carefully closing the door and locking it with the old hook and eye lock, she let out a heavy breath and made straight for the bathroom, feeling incredibly glad that she and Matt had gotten in mostly cleaned up, because what she needed more than anything else was a long, hot shower, just to try and wash away the filth of the past two years.

*  *  *  *  *  *

An hour later, Clydie was in the kitchen, trying to shrug off any hard feelings by making breakfast for her parents, who still hadn't made an appearance. She wanted to give her dad something edible to start his day with and the only way to do that was to beat Ella to the stove.

By the time Frank and Ella entered the room, it was after eight o'clock, and she had things going. Bacon was frying, toast was being buttered, oatmeal was being sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, tomatoes were being sliced, and a skillet of fluffy scrambled eggs was ready and waiting.

"Clydie? Honey, what are you doing?" Ella asked as she and Frank paused to take in the scene before them.

"Making breakfast," she answered as she buzzed about the stove.

As she fiddled with the things there, she could feel the wall of tension that was abruptly pushing up against her back and she knew it was coming from her dad, who was probably less than happy that she'd spent the entire night away from home, and with a strange man, no less.

Frank cleared his throat and she braced herself, keeping her focus on buttering the toast. "Your mother doesn't want to bring this up, Clydie, but as your father I have to," he began right off. "What happened to you last night? Why were you at Julian Donovan's house when you should have been here at home?"

"Frank! Clydie is a grown woman! She doesn't need to explain herself to us!" Ella fussed, rattling around in the fridge.

"Ella, we're still her parents. And she is still my daughter and living under—"

"Don't say it, Frank!" Ella gasped. "You know we've never used that against our kids!"

"That's because you wouldn't let me," Frank out plainly.

Clydie picked up the skillet of eggs and turned, carrying it over to the table and setting it down there before looking at her parents, who were eyeing each other as if they were considering bringing it to blows. "I just needed a break last night, so Julian let me crash on his couch."

A look of slight betrayal crossed Frank's face. "Is that what really happened, Clydie? I mean, I was getting a glass of water and I saw you out there on the beach. And then you suddenly turned and ran."

"Julian said you got upset at the bonfire, but you wouldn't tell him what was wrong," Ella interjected. "I-I figured it was...you know, the same old problem, so I told him—"

"Your mother told the man practically everything," Frank put in, miffed. "I mean, I didn't think we were in the habit of discussing our lives with total strangers."

"He was worried about Clydie and I didn't know what else to tell him!" Ella defended herself. "He knew something wasn't right, so what could I do! Why didn't you talk to him, if you didn't want him to know anything!"

"I'm not in the habit of discussing my daughter with random men," Frank stated stiffly. "You should have told him to send her home! Actually, you should have let me bring her home myself!"

"Frank, didn't you hear Clydie? She needed a break! And she was obviously safe and comfortable with Julian Donovan! So, let...it...go!" Ella commanded.

"How did you know that she was safe and comfortable? Did you even talk to your daughter? No. You didn't," Frank accused through his teeth.

Clydie, listening to the two go back and forth, acknowledged the fact that Ella hadn't asked to speak to her, but neither had Frank made the trip only a few houses down to knock on the door and see for himself that she was okay. Which led her to believe that neither one of them had truly and honestly been all the concerned about her safety. In fact, they seemed to have slept well, despite their daughter spending the night with a random man.

Annoyed that her parents were ruining the first hopeful mood she'd had in forever, she quickly turned and made for the kitchen door, leaving the food she'd cooked wherever it sat. She could spend her morning doing something useful, like unpacking all the boxes in her room and finally making the space livable.

With her parents' voices urging her forward, she hurried up the hallway and hied herself back up to her room, closing the door firmly behind her. A good part of her was starting to wish she'd just stayed back at Julian's house. Her parents didn't argue very often, and when they did, it typically didn't bother her too much, but at the moment, it wasn't doing her any favors.

Suddenly finding the nicotine scented air a bit smothering, she went over to the window and pushed the panes open wide, letting in a rush of cold, damp wind, along with a little curl of the mist that was still hanging about outside the house. She couldn't help but glance toward the edge of the yard, toward the trees and the gazebo, but there was nothing to see other than the swirls of fog dancing through the evergreen boughs.

Leaving the window open so she could listen to the moan of the waves while she worked, she got down to business, deciding to give the old fashioned dresser and chest-of-drawers a good cleaning before putting her clothes into them. She was halfway through polishing the dresser for the second time when a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," she called, hoping it wasn't either of her parents.

Her hope wasn't wasted because it was Matt who stepped into the room, relief rolling over his handsome face as his gaze fell on her. "Clydie, you're okay!" he breathed.

"Yeah. I-I'm fine," she replied, a measure of guilt prickling at her.

"Good. But, what in the hell happened last night!" he demanded, his relief quickly turning to irritation as he strode across the room, coming to tower over her.

She winced. "I'm sorry I-I left like that. I hope you didn't worry too much."

"I worried all night!" Matt huffed. "I didn't have your cell number to call you and I didn't want to come by here because you told me to fuck off! I didn't know if I'd done something to piss you off or what!"

A slightly weightier wave of guilt buffeted her. "Really? I said that to you?"

"Yeah, you did," Matt answered plainly.

"I'm sorry, Matt. Really. But, I was...I was... Actually, I don't even know what I was," she admitted. "Last night was really...confusing."

A sudden look of remorse wafted through Matt's vivid eyes. "Shit. No, I'm sorry, Clydie. I shouldn't have taken you there. If you're not used to hanging out with people, that was probably too much. Those guys are all horn dogs and I should have known they'd act like total assholes."

"No, it wasn't that," she said, waving the words away.

"Well, what was it then?" urged Matt.

She paused for a minute, a part of her not wanting to talk about it. But, if she meant to stick with her plan of shaking things up, then... "There was a little girl that came over to tell me..." She stalled, uncertain whether or not to skip over the part of the girl's tale that had nothing to do with her and get right into the weird bits.

"To tell you what?"

She waffled, torn and feeling rather like repeating what she'd heard was spreading idle gossip, but then again, maybe Matt should know what was being said about his friend...and maybe what his friend was actually up to. "She came over to tell me not to take a drink from Shep because...he likes to dose girls."

Matt gaped for a long minute. "Really? Someone told you that?"

"That's what she said. She told me he's done it to a lot of girls, including her, but no one will speak up because his dad is the sheriff?" she explained, watching Matt's eyes widen.

Something akin to rage flashed through those blue pools and his jaw clenched tight. "Do...do you think he tried to do that to you? Is that why you left?" he ground out.

Clydie shook her head. "No. That's not why I left, but...that is something you should know about your friend."

Matt gave his head a slow shake. "Fucking Shep! What in hell is wrong with people!"

She had absolutely no answer to that question other than, in her belief, most people were basically evil.

"Damn, Clydie. I'm sorry. I would never have taken you there if I'd known that asshole was doing shit like that!" Matt stated, anger rolling off him in waves.

"You couldn't have known about that, Matt. Besides, he wouldn't have done anything to me with you right there," she said, relieving him of any responsibility. That did not serve to alleviate Matt's ire, though, and she had a feeling the next time he ran into Shep, fists might possibly be involved. "Just try and remember that this is only what the girl told me. I mean, she could have been lying."

"Why would she lie to a stranger about something like that?" he wondered stiffly.

Clydie shrugged. "I don't know. Why does anybody lie about anything?"

Of course, she didn't actually believe the girl was lying, but she was new, so her personal opinion of the matter needed to be kept out of it.

Matt raked a hand through his hair, visibly trying to shake it off. "So, why did you run off? Did something else happen?"

"Sort of?" she hedged, uneasy with what she was about to tell him, but she was going head on with anyway. "The girl...she started talking to me about her sister, who's been missing for a year—"

"That's Katie Hyatt! Katie told you that Shep did that to her!" Matt growled, his eyes flashing fire. "She's only seventeen! She's just a kid!"

Oh god. That made the thing seem so much worse than it had before.

"That bastard! I can't believe this! Katie wouldn't lie about something like that!" Matt went on, dumbfounded.

Again, she could only offer a helpless shrug.

It took Matt a space to pull himself together, but eventually he squared his shoulders and let out a breath. "Okay, so...what-what did Katie say that made you leave? What could be worse than finding out some douche bag is actually dosing girls' drinks?"

Clydie let out her own breath, gathering herself. "Well, you know what I told you about seeing my sister with those two other...girls?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded, drawing his brows together.

"The girl, Katie, showed me a picture of her sister. And I-I...her sister is one of the girls with Sam. I swear, Matt. I swear, Jessica is one of those girls."

Matt went still, blinking at her a few times. And then a few times more. "Wait. So...so...what does that mean? Does that mean...does it mean...if you saw your sister with Jessica... I mean, you know that your sister is...gone. So, does that mean that Jessica...is...gone, too?"

"My sister is dead and Jessica is absolutely with Sam, so...Jessica has to be dead, too?" she posed, mostly uncertain.

A thick silence fell onto the room and for an incredibly drawn out moment, she and Matt simply stared at one another. But, then a look of determination crossed Matt's features. "Clydie, I don't know if you want to hear this, but if you saw Jessica with your own sister... I mean, you might have been imagining Sam, but there's no way you could be imagining Katie Hyatt's sister."

Clydie nodded, feeling her lower lip beginning to tremble. "I-I'm...not imagining that girl's sister. I'm just...not." Otherwise, she would not have known about the burn on Jessica's arm.

"And if you're not imagining Jessica, then you're not imagining Sam," Matt stated, sounding very matter-of-fact.

"I...I kind of realized that last night," she whispered, feeling suddenly rather weak and unsteady.

Thinking about everything...listening to her own thoughts...was one thing. But, saying it out loud, to another person, and having that person agree instead of telling her that she needed to up the dosage of her meds, was something else. It firmed things up, made them real...

"Is that why you ran off? Because you were freaked out?" asked Matt.

She again nodded, feeling stupid about it now. What on earth had she been running from? The problem was still inside herself, so running was useless!

Matt let out a long, slow stream of air, again running a hand through his hair. "Alright. So...I guess...you see dead people? I mean, that's...cool? Right?"

She looked up at him, kind of wanting to give him the finger. It was cool unless you happened to be the person who was seeing those dead people. Then, it was so not cool.

"Well, I mean...it has to be better than believing you're crazy?" Matt offered, catching her expression.

"It might be better," she agreed on that small point. "But, its kind of early to tell."

Frankly, in the cold light of day, and knowing the way her life had been going lately, she couldn't be sure that this new turn of events wouldn't prove to be even more problematic than the original situation.