The water was cold and impenetrably dark. It pressed in from all angles, pulling me down. I thrashed my limbs, trying to find the surface, but I couldn't. There was no light to tell me which way was up. No light at all... It felt like swimming in oblivion.

Shudders pulsed through me as the cold seeped through my clothes and into my skin. My muscles ached, and my lungs burned with the effort of holding my breath. How long could I keep this up? How long did I have to find a way out?

Am I going to die here?

I pedalled faster through the frigid water, desperation propelling me to fight, fight even though I was lost and blind and quickly running out of air.

Something brushed against my leg, slithering by in the darkness. I span around in the water, but I couldn't see anything in the black. It came again, sliding against my back, slimy against exposed skin. I turned again, but the darkness gave nothing away.

Then, out of the darkness, the same slimy thing shot out, wound around my neck, and—

I gasped, and my eyes fluttered open. I was no longer in the water, but on dry land. On a dry floor, actually.

Murmurs swirled above me.

"What happened?"

"—and she fainted, in the middle of the—"

"What's that on her arm?"

My whole body tensed as I realized where I was—on the floor of the crowded café. I knew I couldn't just lay here forever, that I would have to sit up, but I couldn't seem to make myself move.

Phyllis came into sight as she leaned over me. "Rachel? Rachel, honey, are you okay?"

"I... I think so," I mumbled. My voice weak and rough, and my throat felt strangely sore.

"Can you sit up?" She gently placing her hand on my arm. "Do you need help?"

Though I would've preferred to sink into the ground and disappear right then and there, I managed a nod.

Two figures moved above me, took hold, and pulled me up into a nearby chair. The change in elevation made my vision sway and bob. I blinked hard, twice, to right it.

Once I was level again, I met with a hundred curious stares from the coffee shop's patrons. The heat of shame blazed through me. Wishing to escape—but too weak to move—I could only hide my face in my hands. My fingers grazed against a tender spot on my cheekbone; that must've been where my face had met with floor.

"Here," came a voice. I peered out from between my fingers and saw the purple-haired barista was back. She placed a tall plastic cup filled with ice water in front of me.  She gave me a heartening smile, and then disappeared into the crowd again.

"Thank you, Chloe," Phyllis called after her employee. She took the seat across from me. We were back at the paper-covered table, my resume still sitting between us, taunting me with my dashed hopes.

"Have a drink," Phyllis said, pulling me from my thoughts. A sweet smile spread across her face, making the corners of her eyes crinkle up and she pointed at the cup. "It'll make you feel better."

I reached for the cup, my hands shaking. Pulling it close, I took a sip from the green straw. The water felt good on my dry throat. I took another deep drink, and slowly the fog in my mind began to clear.

"Better?" she asked after I had managed sucked back half the cup.

I nodded again as I felt a new wave of warmth spread across my cheeks. "I'm really, really sorry about—"

"It's perfectly okay," Phyllis said, waving her hand through the air as if fainting interviewees was a totally normal occurrence. "I'm just glad you're not seriously hurt. Though you did give us quite the fright."

They weren't the only one who got a fright. As my mind cleared, the memory of that girl—that same haggard ghost of a girl—resurfaced, replacing the heat of shame with an eerie chill. My heart picked up pace again the more I thought about her. Appearing not just once, but twice. Luc had to be wrong; she couldn't just be in my head.

But why was she following me? What did she want? Did she—

"Do you have anyone who can come and pick you up?" Phyllis asked, interrupting my spiralling thoughts. "I don't feel comfortable letting you go out there on your own."

"Uh..." Immediately I thought of Luc, of the promise he had made before he left me on the street. My gaze went to the window looking for him, expecting—hoping—that I would see him standing in the shade of the awning, waiting for me.

But he wasn't, and I felt my heart falter. Then my eye caught on a black car, parked right out front. As I looked closer, I realized that it was the familiar shiny-black BMW, the sun gleaming off its dark tinted windows. It as one of Polly's cars, the one that she given to Luc and me to use in her absence.

Luc was here. He was here, waiting for me, just like he said he would be.

I leapt to my feet. My legs, still feeling like rubber, shook beneath me.

"Rachel?" Phyllis was standing now too, and her brow had pushed together in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said, shakily bending down to grab my bag. "Yes, I'm fine. My ride is actually already here."

"Oh," was all she said, but she looked relieved. "Well, then, thank you for coming, and please take care of yourself."

"I will," I said, already moving through the crowd. "And I'm really sorry for wasting your time!" I called as I pushed my way out onto the street. 

My need to see Luc gave me strength. I staggered as fast as I could towards the car. I wanted—needed—to tell him what happened, tell him what—who—I had seen.

The driver door opened, and my heart swelled... then immediately deflated. 

It wasn't Luc.

It was Tory, his delivery-boy-turned-assistant.

"Hey, Rachel!" Tory cheered, his usual grin plastered to his face as he closed the door behind him. "Luc sent me to pick you up."

I just stared at him.

Tory tilted his head to one side, like a confused puppy. "What's the matter?"

I ignored his question. "Where is Luc?"

"He got caught up in something," Tory said casually. "How'd your interview go?"

Again, I ignored him. "Where. Is. Luc?" I repeated, through gritted teeth, each syllable a threat.

Tory must've caught something in my expression, because his smile finally faltered. "He's... He's back at the house." He shrank back from me, like I might lash out and slap him. Honestly, I wanted too.

"Then take me there," I growled, stomping towards the passenger side of the car. "Now."

+ + +

Tory rambled for the entire drive back, going on and on about how Luc was just busy, how it just wasn't his fault that he had to bail again. Even though it wasn't Tory's fault—he was just the messenger, even if he was a very loud messenger—I wanted to punch him in the face. But as he was currently driving, I fought to repress the urge. Instead I just stared out the window, forcing my mind to go blank as I watched the city blur by.

By the time we reached the arching driveway of Polly's massive house, I was feeling a lot stronger, though that could've just been the anger that was bubbling in my veins. I leapt out of the car as soon as Tory put it in park, and barrelled towards the bright red front door. I flung it open and stormed inside.

"Luc?" I shouted.

"In here!" he called back. It came from the den.

I followed his voice, taking a sharp right and stomping off again. When I reached the den, I found him sitting at the large ornately-carved desk that sat in front of the large bay window. Papers were strewn around him. He looked up as I stepped inside the room, a large clueless smile drawn across his face.

"Hello mon cher—"

"Where the hell were you?" I snapped.

"Huh?" Luc blinked at me. "Oh. I know, I'm sorry, but I had to—"

I cut him off again. "You said you were going to be there, waiting for me." My voice rose, and wavered. "You p-promised!"

His face fell now. "I know I did, and I'm sorry, but I have to finish the—"

"You lied," I continued, tears stinging at my eyes as I strode forward, stopping right in front of the desk. "And you were wrong. You were wrong about the girl, wrong about the job, wrong about being there—" and unexpected sob choked out of me. "You're never there when you promise you will be. When I need you there." Another sob. "I needed you."

As I dissolved into tears, Luc leapt up from his seat and ran to me. He scooped me up in his arms and held me close. "Rachel, I don't understand. What's the matter? What happened?"

"Don't you know? Aren't you psychic?" I mumbled into his chest. Though anger still burned inside me, I couldn't resist the comfort of his embrace. I wrapped my own arms around his waist.

Luc snorted and stroked my hair. "My powers aren't perfect, you know that. I don't see everything." He pressed his lips to the top of my head, and spoke into my hair, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "Tell me what happened, please."

Pulling back from his chest, I looked him right in the eye. "I saw the girl again."

"What?" His brows cast a shadow over his green eyes as they folded together.

"She showed up at the café, during my interview. She was right outside the window. And she was staring me down again. And then..." my gazed dropped, the memory—the embarrassment—was still too fresh; even recounting it made my face flare red again, "And then I passed out, in front of everyone—everyone."

"Oh, Rachel..."

I levelled another glare at him, as if it was his fault. "So much for your 'good feeling', huh?"

"Like I said, my powers aren't perfect." His voice was solemn.

"I know," I sighed. "But this proves that she isn't just in my head. She's real."

Luc said nothing. His green eyes roved over my face, like he was trying to find the answers in my own eyes.

"Well?" I said, too anxious to wait. "What are we going to do? Some ghost girl is haunting me!" 

"Ghost girl?"

We both turned, and found Tory lurking in the doorway. Had he been listening to us this whole time? I opened my mouth to tell him fuck off, but Luc spoke up before I got the chance.

"Rachel saw something strange today," he explained.

His continued reluctance to say the word—ghost—got my hackles up. "Twice," I corrected, frowning at both of them. "I saw the girl, the ghost, twice."

Tory wandered further into the room. "Where did you see her?"

"The first time I saw her while I was sitting on a bar patio on Maxwell Street," I said, still glaring at him. "And then again outside the café."

"The café where I picked you up?" Tory asked, his big brown eyes fixed on me.

I nodded, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. What was it to him?

"Did you see anything?" Luc asked him.

He turned his big mooning eyes to Luc. There was a strange darkness in them, a hesitance, like someone who doesn't want to deliver bad news. "No."

Luc's mouth tensed, his brows flickered. "Nothing at all?"

Tory shook his head.

I looked between them; they stared at each other, their expressions hard, like they were having a wordless conversation. It was like I wasn't even there. I hated when they did this. "Excuse me?" I interjected when the silenced began to drag. "What does it matter what he saw?"

"Because I can see ghosts," Tory said simply, like it should be obvious.

My mouth fell open. It hung there for a moment, like a gasping fish. Loud, obnoxious, care-free Tory could see ghosts?

Tory just shrugged as he took in my shock. "It's not a big deal. Why else did you think Luc hired me? Because I was cute?"

My awe quickly dissolved. I snapped my mouth shut and glared at him.

Luc interrupted our tiff. "Is there anyway you might've... missed something?"

Turning back to him, Tory gave him a strangely sad look. "I mean, I wasn't staring at the place, but... I mean, I would've noticed that."

Luc sighed, and rubbed at his eyes. "Alright." He released his hold on me, and went back to the desk. Sweeping up the papers, he roughly arranged them into a stack and then handed them to Tory. "Put these in order, and then double check them. Let me know if there's anything else I have to sign, and if there's not, please take them directly to Mr. Hanson."

"Now?" Tory said. I noticed his gaze flicked back to me for a second.

"Yes," Luc said, his voice firm. "Now."

Tory clasped the papers close to his chest. "Yessir!" He darted out of the room and out of sight. I didn't hear the front door open or close, so he must've headed to some faraway corner.

Once he was gone, Luc turned back to me. "Rachel..." His gaze was gentle, almost cautious, and the weary tone in Luc's voice worried me.

"What does that mean?" I said, my own voice shaking again. "If Tory didn't see her, what does that mean?"

"It means..." Luc paused to sigh again. "It means that it definitely wasn't a ghost."

"Not... a... ghost?" My heart began to thrum again. I should've felt relieved that there wasn't something dark after me again, but I didn't. In a way, this was worse.

I frantically searched his face, hoping to find some other answer or reason for this. But all I could see was my worst fear reflected back at me in his eyes. This was me. I was broken. Crazy. 

After all this time, after everything, I had finally lost it.

My whole body began to shake. "What... What am I going to do?"

He pulled me into his arms again, his grip much tighter than before. It was like he was afraid I'd slip away. "We'll figure it out. We'll figure it out together, I promise."

Another promise. I hoped that this was a promise he could keep.

+ + +

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please vote & comment if you did!

What do you think is going on with Rachel?