Author's Notes:

Hello everyone, how are you? After a long time, I bring you Chapter 2 translated into English. I was unsure about continuing with the translation, but after I see that there were several people interested in being able to read it in English, I decided to try again. I re-edit Chapter 01 in a way could be more understandable (I hope), so if someone is interested, you can reread it. Meanwhile, I leave you with this chapter that is in fact quite short (I think the shortest so far). But don't worry, in Spanish, I have already written 29 Chapters, so there is a lot of history on the way.

Shining among Darkness

By
WingzemonX

Chapter 02.
I came here to help you

Samara Morgan, twelve years old, the daughter of Richard and Anna Morgan, two award-winning horse breeders with a ranch on Moesko Island, on the coast of Washington State. She had been hospitalized in Eola for almost a month, due to the strange events that had begun a year ago in her home. Although everything seemed to indicate that these events were happening a long time ago, only until then had they started to become so notorious; and they were increasing, according to the testimonies.

Anna Morgan was interned in that same place, practically at the same time as her daughter, severely affected by everything that happened. Since then, the medicals, including especially Dr. John Scott, had tried in a thousand ways to understand what was happening, and primarily how to treat it to give peace of mind to the girl's parents; and, by the way, to the few inhabitants of their island.

Needless to say, in all that time, they had not made much progress. But this was not for their ineptitude or lack of hospitality, even if Matilda had the unconscious desire to blame it. The truth was that they faced a case that went beyond their knowledge, and for that reason, Mr. Morgan had decided to appeal to a second opinion; the opinion of the organization Matilda Honey represented.

And that was what had taken her to that place, to that bright white room in which she was sitting, in front of that girl with black hair and even blacker eyes. In the photographs that were sent to Matilda, from a few months or even a couple of years ago, Samara looked like a smiling girl with firm pink cheeks. But the girl who had in front of her was entirely different. What most caused her anguish was not the almost sickly pallor of her skin or those marked dark eye bags, but that gaze... that nearly terrifying gaze in her eyes.

Despite her haggard appearance, she was still a pretty girl. Her facial features were delicate, and her eyes, even with that gaze, were quite beautiful, deep and bright.

"Nice to meet you, Samara," Matilda replied, with marked enthusiasm, just after the girl had said her name. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Ugly things, for sure," the Samara murmured with disdain.

"No, not at all..."

"Are you coming to study me too?" She interrupted abruptly. "Do you come to put wires on me and try to discover how I do what I do?"

That sudden reproach took Matilda a little off guard but did not let it break her composure. She continued to smile at her, maybe even more than before.

"I already know how you do what you do, Samara." These words created such notorious amazement at the girl, who was not able to hide it behind those layers of coldness. "And I went here just to help you and support you with it, no more."

Samara remained silent, but she was openly skeptical.

"You do not believe me, right? Okay, that's normal."

Matilda uncrossed her legs, crossing them again immediately after, but now with the opposite leg on top of the other.

"Could you do me a favor?" Matilda leaned slightly toward her as if they were whispering a secret. "Tell me... is there anyone else listening to us right now?"

Just as when she asked if she could sit down, Samara's only response was to shrug.

"I know you do know; not be shy." That last comment ended with a discreet wink of her right eye. "Tell me, is anyone looking at us? Is there anyone listening to what we say right now?"

Again, the young girl seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, she began to turn her head very slowly around the room. First to the right, then to the left, with a lapse of five seconds between one side and the other. She turned then over her right shoulder, posing her attention in a security camera in one of the corners of the roof; Matilda had not even noticed it. Finally, she looked at the camera on the tripod and at the mirror behind the desk.

"No... nobody listens to us."

She sounded pretty sure about it, although Matilda did not really know for sure how accurate that claim could be, despite how direct it had been with her threat to Dr. Scott. Maybe she had nothing left but to trust that the good doctor would keep his word.

"Then, you can trust that everything you tell me, and everything I tell you, will be between you and me. It's okay?" There was no response. "I know you've had some difficult days. I know you feel that you have been treated as if you were something strange. I know you must be confused, scared, and alone. But you're not alone, Samara. There are others like you, who can help you."

"There is none like me," Samara emphasized brusquely.

"Are you sure?"

A more confident smile was drawn on the lips of the young doctor. She sat upright in her chair again and put her hand into the right pocket of her long tan coat. She was going to take something out, but before doing so, she had the impulse to look over her shoulder at the double-view mirror. Was there really nobody watching? It was impossible to know for sure. But whatever it was, it did not matter anymore.

She pulled her hand out of her pocket and extended it to the front with its palm extended. On her hand, she had a cube made of several pieces of wood, with pastel colors: blue, green, orange and yellow. It was one of those puzzles in three dimensions that took some ingenuity and care to put them together. Samara looked at the curious object with confusion in her eyes. But before she could ask what it was or why she taught it... the cube began to separate from the palm, on its own...

Samara slightly startled when she saw it. The cube rises little by little from Matilda's hand, with complete naturalness, until it suspended in the air at the height of the woman's face. Then, it slowly approached the front, until stay right in the space between them. Samara looked at the cube and the face of Matilda consecutively. The cold and aggressive expression had vanished, and in its place was left only the amazement and wonder that anyone would expect from an innocent young girl.

"What you have, Samara, is an extraordinary gift," began Matilda to tell her. As she spoke, the cube began to separate in its many parts, and every one floated in a different direction, but staying close to others, flitting around like small insects. Samara looked from time to time with interest at some of the pieces, but mainly had her attention set on what Matilda explained. "Some are born with it, others develop it with time, and others... are forced to have it. Different people call it in different forms. My colleagues and I call it the Shining. And those of us, who possess it, are people who shine. Each Shining is different between one person and another, like your fingerprints or the features of your face. Even two abilities that are quite similar vary in their scope, capacity, control, or limits."

The pieces of the cube descended, and they were right in front of Samara. The girl, maybe instinctively, extended her hands to the front. The pieces were suspended centimeters from her palms, and one by one began to fit perfectly, to form the color cube. Finally, it settled delicately on her hands. Samara stared incredulously at the cube and moved her fingers through it to make sure was real and tangible. Then she raised her gaze to Matilda; she still seemed somewhat skeptical. Did you really do that? Matilda thought she would thinking just then. It was a reaction she used to see often.

"There are many like you, and like me," she continued. "And many of them have gone through situations like yours. You are not alone, Samara. I am here to help you."

Samara remained reserved. Matilda noticed how she was pressing the cube with some force between her fingers.

"I do not deserve to be helped," Samara susurrated so slowly, that Matilda doubted to have listened well. "I have hurt so many people. And the horses... my parents..."

The amazement and wonder that had replaced the coldness now gave way to worry, anguish, and fear. That was apparently the real Samara Morgan.

A month ago, several of the horses at Morgan Farm, for no apparent reason, had lost control, even knocking out of their stables and pens, and jumping off the cliffs into the sea. The case was a mystery, except for the Morgans: they exactly knew what, or rather who had been. That had been the main trigger to intern her there.

And still, the horses had not been the worst affected: the main victim had been her own mother.

"I am aware of everything that has happened" Matilda continued, now with much more caution in her tone. "But I also know that it was not because you wanted to do it. Without proper guidance, it sometimes becomes complicated to control what we can do. And people without our gifts, do not understand what that is. They are afraid, they feel confused and scared. But nobody keeps any resentment to you."

"Not even my parents?" Samara suddenly got up.

"Of course not. Your dad was who called us, asked to come and help you. Everyone wants you to be well, Samara. They want you to get out of here and come back with them."

The latter made Samara's face light up, and turn at last to see her directly, and with her eyes wide open.

"When can I go home?" gave a hurry, something that almost hurt Matilda. It was more than understandable that she wanted to leave that place as soon as possible.

"Soon, I promise. I'll take care of that. But for that, I need you to help me. Agree?"

Samara mused a few moments about the proposal.

"What should I do?"

"Just talk to me."

"Just talk?" Samara repeated, arching her right eyebrow. "Without cables? Without monitors? Without injections?"

"Without any of that. Just talk."

"What about?"

Matilda smiled and leaned upright against the back of her chair.

"On this first visit, whatever you want."

— — — —

Their conversation lasted for about forty minutes before Matilda decided it was enough; besides, Samara was beginning to look tired. In general, the topics were focused on getting to know each other better: what they liked to eat, what they preferred to do, favorite series and movies; everything quite normal. Outside of it, the only issue related to the elephant in the room that Samara came to touch was to ask Matilda when she could do that. Matilda did not want to go into much detail about it, at least not on the first visit. She limited to telling her she had done it for the first when was six-and-a-half, and from there little, by little, it was strengthened. When the question returned, Samara's face became somewhat melancholy, and with her head bowed she answered: always.

When she went back into the hall through the door, which could easily be opened from the interior, the first thing she heard was a sharp laugh a few meters away from her. Looking at the end of the corridor, she glimpsed three figures, two known and one not so, standing at the end apparently talking. One of them was the blonde girl at the reception, who was the one who laughed so hard, very different from the almost lethargic state in which she had met her. The other two were Dr. Scott himself and another man in a white coat and more discreet younger-looking glasses.

As soon as the three of them noticed her presence, and also she was looked at them, they fell silent and hurriedly recovered their serenity. The young nurse lowered her head somewhat embarrassed and began to walk with quick steps back down the hall. Matilda barely and looked at her out of the corner of her eye when she passed in front of her.

"So, how was that?" Scott questioned, with sincere interest.

"Pretty good. Samara is a lovely girl."

"Lovely?" the other doctor questioned, apparently surprised by such a statement. Scott repressed him with his eyes, in a very subtle way.

"Dr. Johnson, could you take the subject to her room while I talk to Dr. Honey?"

The request left the young doctor frozen, who even seemed scared. What bad experience in the past could be the cause of those last two reactions? As it was, he objected nothing, and instead went into the interrogations room to fulfill it.

Scott instructed Matilda with his hand to walk, and she followed him; surely he was more than eager to escort her to the door, even knowing that would see her tomorrow, and last, and most of the days of the next two or three weeks.

"How do you see, I acted my part" Scott committed while they were walking side by side. "I left you two alone, as you requested."

"I know, and I appreciate it. But I still have nothing to share."

"Nothing?" Scott exclaimed incredulously.

"One thing only: Samara is distraught by the ugly room in which you put her. And she promised to be more accessible if you change her to a more comfortable place. My suggestion is: do it.

"Her room is the most suitable one we have for a patient of its kind."

"Violent patients, you mean? She doesn't seem to be the case."

"Just wait. A couple of days more with her and you will ask us to put her in that room yourself, or in a more secure one".

Matilda was deeply disturbed by that comment. Did he really believe that was the correct way in which a doctor should express himself about his patient? No wonder Samara wanted to leave so much.

She stepped forward suddenly leaving Dr. Scott behind fairly soon. She didn't need help to find the exit, so she preferred to continue on her own.

"I'll back tomorrow. And please, let the next sessions be in a better room. She is a girl, not a criminal.

Before Scott answered or refuted anything, Matilda went faster on reception's direction.

It had been a long day, and she wanted to lie down to rest at last, greatly.

— — — —

Dr. Johnson, accompanied by two male nurses, escorted Samara to her room. For anyone external, it would be somewhat exaggerated that three grown men and adults carry a little girl of twelve, especially when she walked quietly in front of them on her own. But only they could say for sure how exaggerated that really was.

Samara moved forward with her eyes downcast, her long hair almost covering her face. In her hands, she held Matilda's colored cube; she had told she could keep it.

The door to her room was steel, with a square window at the height of an adult's face. It had two locks that opened with two different keys. One of the orderlies opened it quickly and left the way clear for Samara to pass on her own.

"They'll bring you something for dinner in a few minutes." Dr. Johnson informed her. Samara looked at him over her shoulder earnestly, causing a small back jump.

The girl entered with calm steps, and the same nurse again closed the door behind her, to quickly put the insurance back.

The room was also completely white with walls and ceiling, quite similar to the room in which she had been with Matilda, although considerably smaller. On the left side, there was a stretcher of white sheets, with leather straps included. From the left, there was a small door that led to a small bathroom, which was perhaps less than a quarter the size of that space; but it was at least maybe the only room of that type (for violent patients) with a bathroom, in that building at least. There was no window, no other furniture or object, except for an old-fashioned circular clock hanged over the door.

Samara moved toward the stretcher, and sat on it, with the cube in her hands. The bed was as low as possible so that her feet touched the floor without a problem. For a long time, she just sat, staring blankly at the bright white floor. Her eyes weighed on her; she felt exhausted.

The brightness of light reflected on the polished floor surface called her attention primarily. That curious expression that Matilda had used (the Shining) came to her mind. She had said that was the name of what she could do.

Her eyes closed alone without being able to prevent it.

But, could there be something shiny in what she did? For her, those skills, those thoughts, what she did... It seemed just to be surrounded...

Of darkness...

Her eyelids closed just a little, but enough. All the space around her disappeared for a small fraction of a second. When her eyes opened again, that space was no longer front her.

The air was dense, damp, and disgusting; she felt how it stuck to her skin and left it sticky. The walls and ceiling were no longer white. These were full of stains, corrosion, and mold. The paint was stained and falling apart. The light was much more opaque, a little more and it would be dark. The ground that she was looking at so strictly only a second ago was now covered of water, dark and calm, and covered her up to her ankles.

Her breathing snapped, and her heart beat hard, while her gaze was fixed on such a horrible vision. A heartbreakingly cold sensation rose through her body, from the tips of her feet, submerged beneath the dark water, to her back. It was difficult to breathe because the air felt tainted as if that didn't mean to be being breathed by humans.

What would follow was already known and expected for her, but it was no less surprising. The bed sank, and its legs creaked a little. Samara could clearly feel the additional weight; she was not alone in that room. She could feel it in her neck with total clarity: there was someone in the bed, right behind her. She heard its breathing, like small, choked screams. Hers, on the other hand, became even more intense. Each inhalation required a great effort to be able to take even a little bit of the necessary air. She didn't turn around at all; she never did it. Partly because fear simply froze her, and partly because she did not want to. Samara did not wish to see directly that which accompanied her.

That thing's hands rested slowly on Samara's shoulders, and they slipped from back to front. Instinctively Samara glanced sideways at the one on her right shoulder, a hand of grayish skin with sores, and dirty nails with brown tones.

She felt that thing approaching even more, as its face placed right over his right ear. Felt its cold breath on her skin, hurting like hundreds of needles.

"She can't help you." Whisper in a deep voice resonated with the echo of dozens more. "You don't deserve to be helped..."

Its hands tightened even more on her shoulders, causing her to let out a scream of pain. She closed her eyes hard, and small tears ran down her cheeks. She tightened her eyelids and did not open them at all until the feeling of those hands on her just vanished. When opened them Once again, everything had changed again.

The walls and white ceiling were there again, including the brightness reflected on the floor. The water on her feet also disappeared, leaving no trace, as if it had never been there. So it was? And most importantly, that horrifying presence at her back was also gone.

She reached out quickly and took Matilda's colored cube, and pressed it between her fingers, against her chest. She continued breathing with anxiety, looking intently at the brightness on the floor. Having that little puzzle with her and so close, gave her some security... but not enough.

END OF CHAPTER 02