"Where are we going?" I demanded as the three of us loaded into the car outside the restaurant. Devin, of course, was driving, but I had allowed Fiona in the passenger seat so I could keep close watch on both of them.

"Gross Psychiatric Institute."

"Gross?" Devin repeated distastefully.

"It's the name of the family who originally founded it," she answered plainly.

"What a horrible name," he cranked the engine, "Did they consider how that sounds?"

"It's an old hospital. I doubt they thought of it like that, just how only newer generations have such an aversion to the nickname Dick," she replied, giving a tiny laugh as she added, "But yes, I get what you're saying."

"How far?" I leaned forward, allowing my wings to stretch the width of the rear compartment.

"I don't know; I'm not from here," she admitted, "Don't you have a map or something?"

Our driver pulled up his phone and typed the name into it, "Says twenty minutes outside of town."

"Great. Meet you there; ask for William," the girl instantly phased into the air.

Now That I had a sense of her energy and knew that she was hanging around, I was able to decipher that she had indeed left.

"Want to ride up front?" Devin twisted in his seat.

"Actually," my wings twitched, "It's more comfortable back here."

My brain had been attempting to compare Fiona and Emma since the new girl had shown up yet despite the similarities, something felt quite different. It was perhaps to do with a difference in personality.

The younger seemed more mature and less dependent on the misfortune of others. However, I couldn't simply chock it up to that alone; I knew we needed to learn more before fully determining whether or not she was a threat or whatever else.

During the drive, Devin and I discussed these things until finally the electronic voice of the GPS alerted us to our destination on the right. We had only traveled a few blocks away from the nearest commercial area when we saw a sign posted in fresh grass reading Gross Psychiatric Institute. 

There was an extremely discomforting essence about it, probably due to my own experience within such places rather than its appearance. Truthfully, the hospital didn't appear out of the ordinary, save for the clearly old construction: standing alone, made of aged bricks which had been painted white while the closest businesses were mostly connected to one another and established with fresh materials.

We pulled into the lot, following the route labeled 'visitors' and found a free spot. Loitering about for a few moments in search of our ghostly companion, Devin soon sighed and marched inside. She had given us her father's name though I wasn't sure if she knew we were aware of who he was when she did or not. 

The institute's interior was clinical, just as any other hospital. Directly inside was a lobby where a receptionist greeted us- or just Devin, I suppose- without pleasantry, asking for name, ID, and manner of business. When he said he meant to visit William Foxx, she seemed surprised, but didn't question it.

After a few moments of clicking information into the computer in front of her, including scanning his driver's license and taking a signature, she pointed toward a closed door. There, she said to wait for someone who would come presently and show him to a meeting room, which happened sooner than expected. The man was just as detached as she had been as he unlocked the door, watching carefully as Devin entered before guiding him to a small room with nothing except a table and two chairs.

He departed immediately, locking the door behind him and disappearing long enough to gather who I presumed to be Mr. Foxx. The patient was dressed in a plain white tshirt and black gym shorts despite how chilly I knew it must be, given my boyfriend's prior complaint concerning not having a jacket. 

Foxx placed a scrutinizing gaze on him, eyes making it clear he was both paranoid and not all with it. He made his way to the chair opposite the one Devin had taken and sat, vision scanning the room before resting on his visible guest. The orderly stayed at the door, watching in silence until Devin addressed him.

"Can we have a moment to speak in private or...?

Instead of answering, the employee looked to the patient, squinted, and then nodded at Devin. He proceeded to step outside, keeping the door propped open with one foot, his focus remaining on the room even though he faced staring down the hallway. It was probably as much as was allowed, for safety reasons.

"They didn't tell me you were coming," Foxx stated plainly, lifting bandaged arms to rest on the table between us.

Doing his best to ignore the obviously recent self-harm wounds, Devin spoke directly and politely, "We didn't tell anyone we were coming. It was a spur of the moment thing."

The man's head twitched, "Doesn't matter. They always tell me things. They know things even before you do."

My vision narrowed on him, darting quickly to Devin who was equally ignorant as he asked, "Who are they?"

He leaned farther across the table and whispered, "The spirits."

Spirits? Did he see ghosts too? "Oh, right. Yes, they definitely do that," my friend stammered nervously, eyes coming to rest where he could see both of us. It was difficult to tell whether William saw me or not. In fashion typical of a paranoid state, he was looking all about in no pattern and with no particular intent.

"Shh," he turned his head to the side and stared at the blank wall beside us, "He's here now. You can see him there. I know you can."

I glanced over to the nothingness that had his attention before lifting a brow to my boyfriend who shrugged. Whatever he saw, we did not.

"Mr. Foxx, we- I was wondering if you could tell me about Fiona."

His focus was on Devin instantly, "My baby?" he whispered, "She's in Heaven. They told me so."

"Heaven?"

"Yes. After what those brats did to my perfect angel, she went to Heaven where she can run and fly. She's so happy there...so healthy and happy..." the father's vision fell, rolling back and forth as he smiled.

"What brats?"

The man's head shook violently twice and his grin vanished, "They were jealous...jealous of my baby so they bullied her. THEY KILLED HER!"

When his voice rose angrily with that last statement, so did his eyes, blue eyes that matched the girl slain on those steps. I heard the nurse shift at the door, but when I looked, saw that he hadn't left his post yet.

"Emma," he hissed, "And her pedophile boyfriend. Those wretched little cunts pretended it was an accident, but I know better! They can't fool us!" William pounded his fist against the table and started to stand as he yelled, "They took my baby from me! They ended her life! A life she deserved so much more than them!"

The nurse rushed around the table and held his hands up in front of the patient, "Calm down, William, you're safe. Everything is alright."

Foxx threw his hands onto his head and pulled at his hair, simultaneously trying to fight back a yell and failing. As he screamed into the room, still holding onto himself, the orderly pressed forward, pulling a shot into view, making me curious as to when he had retrieved the injection.

Without hesitation, he grabbed onto the furious father's arm and inserted the needle. Foxx attempted to struggle, however he nearly instantly fell limp under the influence of the powerful drug. As the orderly took a better hold of the man, pulling his arm over his own shoulder to give him better balance and guide him back into the hospital, I saw that Foxx was still conscious and mumbling.

Before they could get back into the hall, Devin had managed to dash up to the confused man's side, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "Your daughter is in Heaven; she's happy."

Although we both knew the words were untrue and empty, the effort wasn't wasted. William's lips curled into a smile, "My baby. Daddy's so glad you're happy."

I watched as the two men made their way through the door, a new employee having come to the scene to check on us. Upon determining that there was no incident to report, she apologized for having to cut the visit short and returned us to the lobby.

Outside in the parking lot, Fiona was sitting atop the hood of our car, "How's my dad?"

"He's happy you're in Heaven," I answered, doing all I could not to be callous, "Was your point to say your death made him insane?"

"I was all he had," her expression never lost its tenacity, "And yes, that's the gist of it, but it's more involved than that. I always had a lot of health problems; spent most my time in a chair. I could walk, but not far and it was extremely painful...but this isn't about me. When I died, I was relieved," she lifted a sweet smile at us, "No more struggling, no more being picked on for being different or treated like some fragile object that couldn't take care of herself. I was always strong for my dad and he was strong for me. I guess sometimes we both forgot it was okay to let go and be comforted."

My entire form fell, relaxing from the need to remain on guard. I could feel her sorrow in my own soul. Somehow, regardless of if her motive had been personal revenge, I couldn't fault her. It didn't seem petty or childish at all.

"I went to my own funeral, you know," Fiona smirked, holding out her hand, "Would you like to see?"

Glancing from her to Devin, I relented, giving him one claw as I placed the other on Fiona's hand. Like prior, I was sucked into her memory, this time as an observer alongside Devin rather than experiencing the event in her place.

We were taken to the funeral home I had explored in Daytonsville. In the previously empty side room stood a slightly smaller than average casket, brown and decorated with pansies, asters, and lilacs of various purple hues. Several men, women, and teenagers, as well as a few younger kids made up the crowd of maybe twenty who sat in the rows of folded chairs.

With a glance to my boyfriend, we sauntered closer to see Fiona's sleeping face resting on the satin pillow inside the display. Abrupt sobbing sounded to our side, prompting me to move out of the way to allow the memory of William Foxx time with his daughter. It was a stupid gesture considering it was all basically a hologram. Nonetheless, I offered the respect.

The man, though distraught, appeared somewhat more aware of the world around him. Ceremonies were typically held three days after death so perhaps it hadn't all settled enough yet to fracture his mind. Attempting to choke back tears, he reached inside the coffin and clasped his daughter's hand.

The moment their skin touched, he inhaled sharply, no doubt unnerved by the cold, stiff feeling of his recently living young girl. Emotion became harder to control and within a matter of seconds, he broke into violent wails.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Daddy's so sorry he couldn't protect you."

His desperate apologies and admissions of guilt continued for a time period I couldn't be certain of, but the sight was heart wrenching, drawing tears from a few of the women around and even myself. When it was clear he wasn't going to calm, the priest and another man each tried to pull the grieving father away, only succeeding in increasing the fury of his sobs.

"I love you so much, sweetheart! Daddy loves you and he's sorry!" the man threw himself over the child's corpse, stretching his arms around his daughter and resting his forehead on her chest, soaking her dress with the salt streaming from his eyes.

Tearing myself from the saddening scene unfolding before me, I noticed Fiona in her usual shorts and shirt, standing not a foot behind her father, but it wasn't the real Fiona. This representation still wore blood on her temple where she received that fatal blow, her eyes not as enraged as I was used to.

They say that before you die, your entire life flashes before you. Speaking from personal experience, this is untrue. It happens after you die. I remembered when I had awoken in Hell, greeted by Spike and adjusting to my new body, I kept having waves of memories return. They weren't all at once. Some things I never remembered until far into my life as a demon. For Fiona, I think her first wave came from witnessing her foundation, her father, break down in front of her corpse.

The visions flooded through my brain so fast, I didn't even register where Devin was during it. What I saw were not solely intense scenarios from her life, but all were meaningful. There was a younger William Foxx coaxing toddler Fiona to try a piece of broccoli that she then threw at his face, sending both of them into a fit of laughter. 

The pair a little older, sat down to watch a scary movie, the father clearly worried it would upset the girl who ended up glued to the screen, enthralled by the story. A bad grade on a test, some bad news from a doctor...various little scenes, all showing a loving parent and his incredible daughter.

After that, the negative energy grew and albeit some strain on their relationship, most all of it was to due with her health...or with snickering and ignorant children at school. I didn't know the illness, but caught that her bones were diseased, including her spine, which led to dangerous yet necessary surgeries. The last...the very last flash was of kids I recognized.

"Aww poor baby has to have Daddy take care of her?" Emma taunted, skipping to stand in front of the wheelchair to force Fiona to stop moving.

The younger girl, however, kept rolling until the foot rests on her wheelchair banged into Emma's calves, making her yell angrily, "Fucking bitch! That hurt!"

"Serves you right. Now leave me alone and let me wait for my dad," Fiona growled, almost tearful as she attempted to stay on her path.

Damian didn't let her though. He forced her to stop by grabbing onto the handles on the back of the chair and jerking it, "Hey, just because you're handicapped doesn't mean you get to be a jerk to my girlfriend."

"You guys are the ones being jerks!" Fiona retorted, "I've never done anything to you except try and get you to leave me alone. But you punks insist on messing with me!"

"Steal her fucking chair!" Todd cheered, running up with Chris to stand on either side of the seated girl.

"Yeah, that'll teach her!" his twin agreed.

The trench coat teen pulled tightly on the handles again while Emma leaned down and slithered her arms around Fiona's shoulders, attempting to pull her up.

"BACK OFF! LET ME GO!" the girl screamed as she beat her fists against Emma's back and chest, finally landing a punch onto the goth's face, causing her to retract her arms and rub the injury.

Everyone's attention was on their little leader then, worried about her instead of the handicapped student she had just dropped, "Christ!" she complained, "That fucking stung! You want to feel a real punch, you little-" but her threat ended when her and the boys' sights came to rest upon Fiona.

On the second step of the school, laid her cracked skull, body draped lackadaisically below it with legs bent at unnatural angles. As I looked on in horror with the rest of the group, a puddle of blood began growing beneath her head, soaking into her blonde hair as those blue eyes, though lifeless, stared from beyond the grave.

I realized then we had returned to the funeral. It was that moment, that single instant of remembrance that the mind behind those eyes shifted. As Devin and I observed the ghost leave the cemetery, it was clear that the fierce Fiona we had met, had taken over.

"So," I began softly when the ghost had ejected us from her memory, "He doesn't see spirits, does he?"

"No. I've tried to visit him, both now and before McGraff made good on his side of the bargain," Fiona hopped off the car hood.

Devin, still catching his breath after a journey he wasn't used to, chimed in, "Was it worth it? Knowing you might never exist again? And that other kids died too?"

The girl's gaze trailed to the hospital, "They deserved what they got and the others...that wasn't supposed to happen. I don't regret what I did, if that's what you mean."

"What will you do now?" I wondered.

Strolling away casually, she halted, "I don't know," she rotated toward us with a smile, "What will you do? Now that you are who you are and know all the things you do...what's next?"