The Beautiful Darkness

Prologue

The sun broke through the swirling clouds and shone through the window, giving a golden sheen to the macabre scene below. The atmosphere within was heavy with anger and fear. The furniture was pushed violently up against the walls, as if the house had been turned on its side and then righted, leaving a space in the middle of the plain, light brown wooden floor. There was a young woman, abandoned and broken in a heap across the same floor, her face a grotesque mask of pain. Her body was twisted, contorted. She was unnaturally still, and could be described as the doll a small child had left unkempt and uncared for on the floor, a sad image of innocence lost. She could have been a statue if it were not for her breathing, albeit shallow and erratic. Someone, something, shrouded in darkness, sat in the corner, staring at the woman. The darkness writhed around the figure, as if it were alive and pulsing. The darkness cut at the light, twisting and spiralling randomly in the air. Vines of horror, giving off dark, unintelligible whispers.

“Awaken, my child.”

The words, barely whispered, sent convulsions through the young girl and echoed throughout the room. The darkness of the corner began to spread, like a stain, towards the woman. She began to stir, and slowly opened her eyes. She looked around, and whimpered as she saw the thing in the corner. She began to crawl to the door, away from the thing that terrified her. It moved its head, following the young girl across the room, the darkness following every movement the thing made. It lifted, slowly, what seemed to be an arm, and pointed it at the girl. Darkness gathered at the fingertip, vines from the room rushing towards it. It seemed to smile, and when it spoke there was amusement in its voice.

“Now now my child, be still.”

The thing lazily flicked its hand at the girl. The mass of darkness was thrown at the girl, thrashing into her. Vines clawed after her, whipping at her as she was thrown along the floor, thudding heavily against the one empty wall, under the only window in the dank room. The thing hissed in anger, almost cursing itself. and then began moving its arms, up and down, the darkness now surrounding the whole of the room. It was muttering words under its breath, the darkness writhing with every word, bending and twisting. The girl, out for good now, was seemingly unaware of the bizarre phenomenon happening around her. The light from the window began to bend around her, brightening and spreading, pulsating with its own rhythm against the darkness, protecting her. The darkness was fighting the light, trying to cover the girl in its inky sludge, but was failing. The thing in the corner seemed intrigued, and stood. It walked over to her, and studied the light, careful not to expose itself to the bright glare. It laid down on the floor next to her, on its side, staring at the girl. The darkness was receding towards the one side of the room, and now began to win the fight as the thing continued to stare. Suddenly, it thrust its arms in to the light, screeching, and between this horrific sound, two words reverberated and echoed around the room.

“Be gone!”

An ear splitting scream emanated from the girl, as the darkness struggled with the sunlight, reaching hungrily for her. Suddenly, a loud crack ripped throughout the room and the darkness won. The young girl was thrown into the air as the darkness surged under her and she disappeared through the ceiling, almost absorbed into it. The thing rolled on to its back, shrieking turning into laughter as the room turned, as if a light switch had been turned off, in to a sea of black, and dropped into a puddle on the floor, which then seeped through the floor, leaving nothing but that high pitched giggling echoing through the room, and a moulding black material on the ceiling where the girl disappeared.

Chapter 1

“I’ve been sleeping a thousand years it seems/Got to open my eyes to everything”

“Go away, I’m sleeping” Sarah murmured into her pillow as Evanescence cut through the night.

“Without thought, without voice, without a soul/Don’t let me die here”

“Shut up! I’m not in” she muttered, swatting blindly at the phone on her nightstand. She made contact and it flew off the stand on to the floor, the ringtone muffled by the carpet. She put the pillow over her head and turned round, sighing deeply when she heard her house phone going off. She snatched it from the cradle, already having had a small suspicion as to whom it was, snapping “Do you know what time it is?”

“Well, crime waits for no-one, you should know that.”

“Matthew.” Just as she had first suspected. Just hearing his voice put her into a foul mood, worsened by the fact that he had disturbed her sleep, which was in fact the first time she had slept for five days having been having difficulties with an....acquaintance. “What do you want?”

“Shouldn’t you already know, Psychic Sally?”

She hung up and settled back down to sleep. She hated Matthew Mayers. Her home phone rang again and, sighing deeply, she picked it up. “What?” She asked, coldly, ice dripping from her words.

“Lovely way to answer your phone, or is it just for me?”

“Just get down to it, what did you call for?”

“We’ve just had a call. Mother says her daughter has walked out, around three hours ago. She called the Police but they did nothing. She had apparently heard of our work, called us, I called you.”

“Why could this not have waited until a sensible time instead of...” she looked at her alarm clock, the numbers glowing green in the darkness. 1:45 Am. She sighed. “...instead of quarter to two in the morning?”

“Well, had to see if you’re feeling any negative auras, or whatever it is you do.”

“I’ve not felt anything, so I guess I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”

“Since we were kind of depending on your supposed ‘skills’, which have failed us, we got nothing Soo... no point in your coming in this morning. Call me if you get anything.”

“Fine. I’ll be getting back to sleep now.” She hung up, again, and settled down again. Again, her phone rang. She ignored it, until she couldn’t anymore. “Seriously, I will kill you. I will hunt you down and kill you. Painfully.” There was a short silence, and then someone coughed nervously.

“Hello? Is that Miss Belvedere?” Someone with an Indian accent asked, as sounds of other operators talking in the background filtered through.

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That morning, she was sat at her table drinking her seventh coffee of the day. She hated Mayers. With a passion. She had, after the call from the Call Centre, unplugged the phone and tried to sleep for a further half hour before giving up and flicking through the shopping channels and poker programmes, the only thing that seems to be on at that time of the morning. She had, in quick succession, worked her way through many coffees and the many different ways in which to either kill or inflict pain upon him. That man. The one who annoyed her every day of her working week. The one who was constantly mocking her. The one...the one...the one waving at her through her window?

She shot up, pulling her dressing gown around her tightly and glaring at him. A slow smile began on his lips, almost mockingly. She marched across the room and, in one swift movement, swept the curtains closed. She returned to the table and sat down, determined to ignore him. She sat and sipped her strong yet lukewarm coffee. There was a loud rapping at the door and she sighed. She walked to it and threw it open, coffee in hand. “This had better be goddamned important.” She snapped at him, glaring.

“If looks could kill, I would be six feet under.”

“If looks could kill, you’d already be out of my hair, and I’d still be asleep right now.”

“Harsh, what are you so cranky for? Is this because I called you last night? Because that was important, and job related. Besides, shouldn’t you have already known? Why was it such a surprise?”

“Just because you’re being punished for being an imbecile, why should everyone around you suffer?”

“What?” He looked surprised for a second, and then irritated. She had one up on him and he hated that. She looked at him, still glaring but smirking slightly now.

“I’m psychic, remember?” She said, mocking him. She emphasised the word psychic, stretching it out.

“You got my file. How did you get my file? It isn’t exactly public knowledge.” He stepped forwards, anger showing on his face.

“Yes, of course I did. I had to check I wasn’t going to be working with a psycho. Your record, apart from recent...” She paused, as if trying to think of the optimum word and taking a sip of tepid coffee, “indiscretions. You passed your GCSE’s, A-Levels and University Degrees with flying colours. You particularly excelled at the sciences, especially Chemistry. You joined the police force and moved quickly up the ranks until…well...you know what you did.” She finished, smiling broadly at him, taking another drink of coffee, suddenly tasting much warmer and sweeter. Revenge, seems it’s true what they say.

He stood, silent, for a moment, before uttering something she couldn’t quite hear. “What? I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to understand the incoherent mumblings of crazy people.” She said, speaking slowly, a smug smile on her face and in her voice.

“At least I didn’t steal a Police Officers car, and then went on to drive it into a tree about two metres away from its original position.”

“What? How could...my record.” Her smug smile dropping off of her face, replaced with a shocked, gaping expression, and reappearing on Matthew’s face.

“You’re not the only one with friends in high up places, I pulled your police records, and you have had a few...” He paused, thinking, “Indiscretions, yourself.” He was talking of several incidents she had had with the police in the past.

“Fine. We’re even. Now what do you want?” Her anger was coming back as she realised she had, once again, been outsmarted by him. “You annoying, pig-headed, devil spaw...” She began, pointing at him viciously, causing the hand clutching her mug to jolt and coffee to spill down her dressing gown. She stopped mid sentence, distracted. Taking his chance, Matthew chipped in quickly, before she could re-engage her string of insults.

“Now, now. Let’s not get personal. I’m here to inform you that a car is coming for you at around half one, taking you to a house. Suspicious circs, to do with the missing girl. Now, that coffee smells go...”

“Get out. Go away, right now, before I kill you and bury you under my patio.”

“Seems you’ve been considering this an awful lot. Meaning you’ve been thinking about me, an awful lot...” An answering door in his face signalled the end of his visit. “You love me really!” He called through the door, and hurried away as he heard a suspicious, cup full of coffee kind of impact hit the door.

Chapter 2

She gasped as she walked through the door, her gloved hand flying up to her mouth. Something had hit her as soon as she walked into the door, something evil. It smacked into her, chilling her to the bone. The room was deadly silent and unnaturally cold. There was a bed, stripped bare, with a sagging and yellowed mattress, a chest of drawers that had long lost its drawers and any possible contents, a bookshelf void of any books and a bedside table that had once been yellow, but the paint had cracked and large areas of scratched wood showed through. There was also a broken, dusty lamp, missing a lamp shade and bulb. Both presumably stolen, leaving the main body for some unknown reason.

All of this furniture had been pushed to the side, leaving a space in the middle of the room that was clear, apart from the minimal blood splatter on the north side wall and floor, an area uncluttered by the worn-down furniture. There was a single window on the blood splattered wall.

“We’ve got no idea, that’s why we called you in here. Young girl, Stephanie Lucas missing. You sensing any vibes?” Mayers replied, mockingly exaggerating the last word. Matthew Mayers was a tall man, extremely thin, almost to the point of gangly. He was quite obviously not cut out for fieldwork any more.

His grey eyes, wrinkled from laughter or, most likely, from worry, speak louder than his words. He has three daughters, Sophie, Kayla and Lucy and two sons, Richard and Caleb. Richard and Sophie are from his first marriage, Kayla from his second, Caleb from his third and Lucy from his fourth. Estranged from all of his children but one, his youngest, Lucy. She has recently turned fifteen, and lives with him in his three bedroom house. Three divorces on his belt, as well as a death, Matthew Mayers was a workaholic who cared more for his work than his family, a work that was disturbing for most. He was part of huge network of PIs, but, being teamed with Sarah, worked more on the supernatural side of things. He had been kicked out of the police force after he mislaid a memory stick, which found its way to the tabloids and the front pages of most newspapers. He maintains that he was merely a scapegoat, but no one listens. He is an extremely bitter man due to this supposed injustice, and has never gotten over the death of his fourth wife.

“You called me. I didn’t ask to be here, so keep your snide little comments to yourself, kay?” She turned her back on him, looking around. “Something bad was here” she said, pointing towards a dark corner “right over there, any idiot can feel that. Don’t have to be psychic for that.”

“Seems I’m an idiot then, I can’t feel anything. I reckon she’ll turn up by tomorrow. Apparently, her and the mother had an argument, she’s been hanging round with the wrong kinds, so I’m told.” He pulls a notebook out from his jacket pocket, and flicks through it as he speaks. “She stormed out the house, told Mum….Janet, not to expect her back. Janet didn’t really pay much heed to this, and when she didn’t appear home yesterday afternoon she called the Police. They gave her the ‘wait 24 hours spiel’, but I suppose Mother’s instinct told her otherwise. Her friend used us once, and she remembered and looked in the phonebook of all places. I mean, who still has phonebooks? Anyway…I digress. We’re now on her payroll.”

“How do you know she’s even missing? And why did it take you so long to call me if she went missing yesterday afternoon?” She had been stood still, and anyone would have thought she were listening to Matthew intently, had it not been for the glazed over eyes staring through him, around the room. Matthew used to think she did it just to annoy him, but he now knew she was doing a ‘preliminary check’ or something around the room, see if anything stands out.

“We found spots of blood on the wall over there” he said, pointing to a cleared wall “looks like she hit that wall with quite a bit of force, and we had to liaise with Local Police. I had to wait two hours to be granted important enough to be spoken with and then talked at for the past 2 and a half hours by inept idiots who told me nothing of great importance, so if you want to be acting prissy to anyone, it should be them. Not me. Still a little touchy from this morning are we?” Seeing Sarah tense, he quickly changed subject, deciding it was not worth it. “Here’s her picture.” He held a photo out to her and Sarah turned around, not approaching him.

“Pretty girl.” Sarah said, inspecting the picture. General teenage girl, bleached blonde hair with layers of makeup. Her eyes were the unusual thing, however. One was a deep, cloudy green, the colour of unpolished emeralds whilst the other was crystal blue, like a Mediterranean sea. It was like you could see her soul through her eyes, unsoiled by the look of the modern teenager, untouched by the impurity.

He walked around Sarah to the window, giving her a wide berth, as if wary of her, and began muttering to himself. “No idea why it’s so dark in here, lovely day out there.” He stopped and turned to her. “What are you thinking then? “

“I’m not sure, yet. It’s going to be a while, fancy taking a walk? Leaving me alone? I need to think.” She began walking around the room, her eyes closed and her forehead furrowed in concentration. She was trailing her fingertips along the wall delicately, pausing at the cleared wall.

“I’m not allowed to leave, or I would be at the coffee shop round the corner with a blueberry muffin and a steaming cup of coffee.” He was muttering, his eyes following Sarah around the room with an uneasy expression.

“If all you are going to do is mutter, you can wait outside with Taylor. I know how much you admire him.” She laughed at her own joke, knowing full well the two men couldn’t stand each other.

“Come on then, hurry it up, Psychic Sally” Matthew smirked, rolling his eyes.

Suddenly, she began convulsing and retching. She collapsed, her body contorting. Matthew rushed over, his previously mocking face turned to one of panic with a look of worry etched over his face. This episode lasted for mere seconds, for suddenly she stopped. Unnaturally still. She wasn’t moving. Barely even breathing.

“Are you, are you okay?” Matthew stepped forward, reaching out to touch her arm and then changing his mind as he looked up.

“Wha...What is that?” He looked back down to her and, for a split second, realised there was something wrong about her. Something off that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He moved even closer, staring intently at her face as he tried to think, remember.

“Child, be gone.” Sarah whispered, her glassy, hollow eyes staring up at the dark, rotting stain splattered on the wall that seemed to be pulsing and spreading as Matthew dropped to his knees and pulled Sarah towards him, out from under the...thing, attempting to rouse her, calling for the Taylor, who was waiting outside the door.

Chapter 3

“Come on then, hurry it up, Psychic Sally”

I was just about to turn around and snap back at him, something clever. I forget now, but it was gonna be good. I came round; ready to destroy Mayers with an amazing comeback. I hate it when he calls me Psychic Sally, it’s just his own way of changing what I have into something stupid and mocking, distancing himself from it. It’s a part of my life, if I have accepted that why can’t he? Without me, most of his cases would be left unsolved. I just wish he would recognise that, rather than take it for granted.

That’s what stopped me, because all of a sudden I couldn’t remember. How to speak, how to think, how to blink, how to breathe....I just couldn’t remember. And then....then I was drowning. It was dark, so dark. I was swimming, just swimming, but in thick black ink and I couldn’t swim, but I was. I had to swim, but I couldn’t make it to the surface. And then something was calling me, something so dark and so evil and so, so, wonderful. I just wanted to stay and bask in this grim black, suffocating, beautiful blanket of confusion.

And then, I can’t explain it. But I remembered, something swam to the surface of my mind. Something I heard a long time ago and I could remember. I remembered.

“Death is when the monsters get you.”

And it was just like that. I remembered.

Chapter 4

“Taylor!” I bellowed. I felt for a pulse, her eyelids fluttering. I didn’t know what to do, what can I do? I never was good at working in panicked situations, I tend to go off on a tangent and make the completely wrong decision, but not this time. “Taylor! Move yourself!”

Taylor came panting round the corner with a cup of coffee and a donut. He reminded me of Chief Wiggum, a round man who was useless as a PI. But he didn’t have blue hair or yellow skin. Or four fingers. Or three fingers and a thumb. That would, however, look rather strange. My youngest, my Lucy, loves that show, would watch it all day.....

I shook my head, clearing my head of its distractions and possible tangents. “Call an ambulance, she’s having some kind of fit.” He fumbled around in his pockets, dropping his donut, searching desperately for his phone.

The Ambulance came, two men running through the door with different medical equipment and a stretcher. She was lying still now, rigid, barely breathing. She had gone a pale white. I would have thought she were dead had it not been for the faint pulse, and for the temperature of her skin. It was like she had a fever, burning hot. Contrasting nicely with her pale skin. I got Taylor to ride the Ambulance with her because, frankly, she scared the living daylights out of me, and that was something I didn’t like to admit. And, he really annoyed me. It was a way of getting rid of him, making the bumbling idiot seem important. I stayed behind to ‘Check the scene’ and high tailed it towards the house. I had felt the guilt wave coming on, and felt I should leave in case she woke up. I didn’t need to be judged by her. I hurried up the path to the small, filthy bungalow surrounded by shabby high-rise flats and council houses. It was no wonder the neighbours weren’t surprised by the loud bangs and what not. Seems the area for it.

Sometimes, most of the time, I wish I was back at my safe, wooden desk in my office. The bookshelves all around me and the sickly scent of port spilt many years ago, mixed with the stench of stale cigars. The general quiet and respectful, revering atmosphere. Work was my haven, the reason all but one of my marriages failed.

I hated doing this, you see. I hated my new job and the people I worked with. I hated my new house, a small and dingy apartment with two bedrooms, a kitchen, a front room and a bathroom. The two bedrooms and bathroom are on the top floor whilst the rest are squeezed on the bottom floor. My youngest, Lucy, who somehow got the larger bedroom, seems determined to make it home and has been frantically painting and preening and tidying. She’s the only reason I’m still here and not in Hawaii, away from all of this. I detested my new accent, years of Public Speaking classes gone to waste as my new surroundings infiltrated my being, infected my brain.

I preferred the good old fashioned ways. I preferred books to games consoles, an attitude not shared by my Lucy, and typewriters to computers. Seems Facebook is inaccessible on a Typewriter, much to her dismay, although I eventually relented when we first moved here and brought her one of those new fangled iPhone things and a laptop for her birthday. I never could resist her eyes, so alike to her Mother’s, and she knew that, played that little weakness for all she was worth. She had me wrapped around her little finger, but I loved her for that.

I walked into the bungalow, my eyes immediately drawn to the dark patch on the ceiling in the open plan room. What had she said about it? Something about going. It made no sense; this whole thing makes no sense. I went through what had happened in my mind and retraced her steps, trying to figure out what she had seen. I paced around the room, the exact same way she had. Avoiding the furniture squashed up close to one side of the room. I mean, what could have done that? The furniture looked in rough shape, and not just through years of misuse. And whoever slammed her into that wall had a lot of strength. A man, had to be. Not being sexist or anything, but it had to be. Possibly a drug addict. A big man, the type that would live around here. I left, concluding there was nothing else to see here. Nothing that could be seen with my eyes anyway. I decided to go to the Hospital, check on Sarah, or at least see if she wakes up. She may freak the Hell out of me and I may hate what she can do, but in a weird, fatherly kind of way, I was seriously worried.

Chapter 5

I surfaced from the inky pool, feeling as if I should be gasping for air, choking on the horrible slime. It was cold, freezing. I was shivering and my eyes were closed. I could feel that I was lying on a cold, damp floor, face down. My first thought was an obvious one. Am I dead? I tried to move, but nothing seemed to work. I couldn’t even open my eyes. In my mind, I was going crazy. Hyperventilating, screaming and crying at the same time, but nothing reached the surface. I just lay there. I hadn’t ruled out the possibility of death; merely put it to the back of my mind as I tried to think things out logically.

I could smell the bitter damp, and something else. Sweet...cloying. Possibly a drug? Making me woozy? That was somewhat more comforting, I didn’t really fancy being dead. I wasn’t at the bungalow anymore that was certain. I couldn’t smell Matthew, a big indicator. He wears a rather... individual... cologne that smells god awful, and he drowns himself in it.

Suddenly, my eyes opened and I gasped, a huge gulp of air, as if I hadn’t been breathing. I was coughing now, and aches and pains I hadn’t noticed before began to rear their ugly heads. I moved to sit up, back against the wall and head leant back as coughing racked my body, each time making me feel like I had gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer. I looked around when the ‘I feel like I am dying’ feeling had subsided somewhat. There was only a light bulb slowly swinging to and fro in the middle of the room on a long wire, its dim light was flickering, giving barely enough light for me to see. What I did see was what appeared to be a dank cellar, no windows and no door. There was mould on the walls and it was cold, very cold. And I was so thirsty, and I ached, in so, so much pain and it was so overwhelming I, I hadn’t even noticed there was something not quite right.

I hadn’t actually made the command to move. And when I did want to move, nothing happened. I felt as if I was floating on my back in the middle of a massive ocean, seeing only a clear blue sky. Stuck, being unable to do anything about it. I was inside a massive shell, lost. I immediately put it down to shock, a self defence mechanism of distancing myself somehow, as I moved toward a puddle of mucky water in the far corner. The pain of movement stole my shallow breath, and it felt like forever to move a few metres. I finally reached the puddle and leant forwards, looking in at my reflection, and once again my breath was taken away. The reflection. It wasn’t me. It had blonde hair, the reminiscence of a pretty face, although now pale and gaunt, and those once beautiful eyes were now terrifying. They were dull and looked as if the beautiful blues and greens had been sucked out, leaving white lines from pupil to edge.

The reflection began raking her fingers through her mass of tangled hair. She soon gave up and rubbed at the streams of mascara that ran down her face, a remainder of the makeup she once worn. She cupped her hands together, filling them with water and drinking some before splashing her face with it. It tasted awful, but she was so thirsty it was immaterial. And, she wanted some normality. She remembered her Mother saying to always wash your makeup off or you’ll get spots, get wrinkles younger and what not. She prided herself on having immaculate makeup, and felt a weird shame, feeling she either wanted it well or didn’t want it at all. She wiped it off, angrily, and began crying again. What was that thing doing to her? She leant in closer to the water, getting a closer look at her eyes, when the image in the water distorted once again. All I saw was darkness before Stephanie screamed and shot back to her corner. The puddle began bubbling furiously, spreading across the room towards Stephanie and darkening to black. She was screaming, so loud, and stood up pushing herself into the corner, to be as far away from the thing as she could be.

The black pool was spreading, spreading its evil that I could feel, so overwhelmingly, and I could feel her panic and her terror, so strong and fierce it hit me like an avalanche, her emotions piling on top of me and the darkness was pulling me down, further and further, until I was drowning again, back in the ink that blinded me and filled my nose and my mouth and blinded me and as I drowned I knew the puddle was at Stephanie’s feet and there was nothing she could do to get away from it, and then the ground fell from beneath her and she was falling and screaming, her arms flailing in the air trying to find something to cling onto and her feet reaching into the endless darkness and I was drowning , I couldn’t breathe, and...and....

Nothing.

Chapter 6

I walked in, and it happened. All of the memories I had desperately been trying to suppress for so long flooded back with the force of an epic tsunami, waves of deep pain ripping new cuts into my already broken heart.

“I’m sorry sir, you’re wife wasn’t strong enough. She didn’t pull through.”

“What the Hell do you mean, she wasn’t strong enough? You didn’t even know her!”

I lost balance for a moment as I was temporarily lost in his grief, and felt myself fall back against a conveniently placed wall. I considered turning around and walking back out of the doors I had just entered through, straight to my car. Never returning to this place. The sounds of the Hospital, the crying and the coughing, the incessant chatter. The faint bleeping I imagined, growing slower and slower until, eventually, inevitably......

“Sir?” A hand on my arm brought me out of my descent. I opened my eyes, not realising they had closed, blinking for a moment. “Sir? Are you okay? Do you need some help?” She looked kind, helpful, yet nodding slightly in a way that annoyed me to hell for some reason.

“No...no I’m fine.” She nodded, a concerned look still showing on her face. She dropped her arm and walked away, but only as far as the Main Desk that had magically appeared in front of me. I looked around the brightly lit waiting room, thinking that it all seemed too serene for how I was feeling, for where it was. How many ghosts must roam this place? The thought brought me back to Sarah, and I shook my head. There were a few people sat waiting, an old couple holding hands and a woman with a teenager, holding a skateboard and nursing a swollen ankle.

“Do you need any help?” I was about to say no and walk out, leave, when my eyes were attracted to the badge on her lapel, displaying her name prominently, unfortunately. Sally. I took a deep breath and stood tall, nodding and gritting my teeth in a steely resolve.

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She was lying still, the steady bleeping of a random monitor and a respirator machine brought back more flashbacks, and I had to close my eyes and clench my fists to bat them back. I could feel my nails digging in to my palm, and the pain brought me back to reality. “It’s worse than it looks, don’t worry. They’re just a bit unsure as to what’s wrong with her at the moment.” The Nurse was talking slowly, as if talking to a child and it really, seriously annoyed me, again. They’re not sure why she....” I turned to the women, smiled politely and thanked her for the help, a much more polite way of asking her to leave than I was thinking of in his head. The Nurse got the hint and nodded, walking backwards the few steps to the door and closing it behind her.

Now alone, I put the over-priced garage flowers in a jug of water on her bedside table. I was pretty sure she was meant to drink that, due to the glass that accompanied it, but I didn’t think she was waking up any time soon. Anyway, she’d appreciate the flowers more. They were lilies; I’d passed by them and immediately thought of Sarah. He knew it was a bit weird, but she was into this symbolism rubbish and flowers you give to dead people were about as symbolic as you can get.

“Matthew?” She coughed, and her breath came out in short, ragged gasps.

“I’m here sweetheart, I’ll always be here.” He reaches for her hand, gripping it tightly.

“That’s the thing, I don’t think I will.” He shakes his head furiously.

“Nonsense, you will be fine. You...you have to be.”

It was hitting me, like I had always known it would if I came back here. I had repressed it for so long, and coming back here it just, it just overwhelmed me. I looked at Sarah, and I saw my dead wife. The sound of the Hospital began to fade, until there was only silence. Everything was moving slowly, like a dream. Sarah’s long red hair melted away, and her face transformed. Her eyes began turning a startlingly bright emerald green, and I wondered then if I was finally losing his mind. I felt the tears streaming down my face as my beautiful wife sat up in bed, and reached her hand towards me, resting it upon my cheek. She looked at me with love in her eyes, and began to mouth something to me. I wiped my eyes and tried to understand what she was saying, shaking my head. She became more and more frantic, moving her hand away, and I knew she was begging me to understand. Suddenly, my vision snapped back, and I could hear the chatter of the nurses outside, the sounds of the machines in the room, and Sarah, her eyes wide open and staring at me.

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“You’re awake? How...how long have you been awake?”

“I saw her.”

“What do you mean? You saw her?”

“In my...whatever it was. At least, I think it was her. It could not have been....but...”

“Look, you were unconscious. You must have banged your head or something, you were dreaming. That was it.” Looks like Matt was back to his normal unbearable self. I had woken up to him holding my hand and crying, and now he was as far away from me as he could possibly be, practically out the door, pacing back and forth. It was uncomfortable, and my head hurt. I just wanted him to go, particularly as he was being like this.

“I know what I saw. You can say whatever you like.” I crossed my arms across my body, trying to end the conversation.

He stopped pacing and looked at me, moving to sit down on the chair next to my bed. “Look, I’m sorry.” I looked at him, sceptically. He never apologises to me. “I...I just had a really... I hate Hospitals, especially this one.” I nodded, not quite understanding. “This was where Kate died.” He trailed off, looking down. I nodded, wanting to say something, but unsure as to whether he had finished. “I...had a...vision? I think?”

“What happened?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter. Just forget about it.” He stood up, closing down totally, and walked to the door.

“Matthew, thanks for the flowers.” I called as he walked through the door, but didn’t seem to hear a reply. I leaned back in bed, but then began to search for the remote to the TV at the end of my bed. I

looked around my room, being in a coma had some benefits. It was a lovely room, and I thought I would enjoy it whilst I could. I was exhausted, having not slept for what felt like weeks. Men.

I hoped Matthew hadn’t told any Nurses I was awake, as that would destroy my hopes for peace.

“Remote?” He said, in that voice. I turned, and there he was, and there was the remote. Why? Why does God hate me?

“Rick. What are you doing here?”

“A lovely Nurse rang me, really lovely. We had a nice chat.”

“What happened to ‘turning over a new leaf’?” My recent ex, Richard. I had left him after a relationship worthy of Jeremy Kyle, and I had finally thrown his sorry ass out a couple of weeks ago. And all of his clothes and belongings. Out of an upper bedroom window. In the middle of a storm. It hadn’t been the best of break-ups. He was, in theory, the perfect man. Tall, dark haired, well-built, good job. But, a total prick. He cheated on me, twice, after two months of officially ‘seeing’ each other. He sat by my bed, and looked at me with those eyes. Dammit! Why did I have to be so weak? I know damn well he’s no good, dirt, but….I grabbed the remote out of his hand and turned the TV on, not really paying attention to what I was watching. He was still looking at me.

“Since when did you watch Top Gear?” I could hear the smile in his voice, and I could tell he loved the fact he was getting to me. And he was, and I couldn’t stand it. I snapped.

“Since you cheated on me, and I dumped you.” I said, not even looking at him, in a deadpan tone. “Now, I would appreciate it if you would leave.” He stood, and left. Without another word.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was mortified. I stormed out of her room. I shouldn’t have said anything, I said way too much. I was an idiot. She woke up at the most ridiculous of times. I heard her thank me for the flowers, but I just couldn’t stop to reply. I had to get out. I was in my car, sat, thinking. My hands were balled up into fists, so I could ignore the fact they were shaking uncontrollably, I couldn’t drive yet. I thought back to Kate, trying to remember my...whatever it was. What was she mouthing to me?

And again, to Sarah, wide awake, watching me cry, for God knows how long. I was holding her hand and...crying. I couldn’t believe it. I punch my dashboard and immediately regret it. Pain shoots up my arm, and I shout, flapping my hand in the air. The pain does clear my mind, and I find I have calmed a little. I start my car, then think back to what just happened. There was something not quite right again. Like in the Bungalow, something I couldn’t quite get. I go through the whole scene in my head again, cringing as I remember looking up, seeing her open….Suddenly, it hit me. I rip my key out of the ignition, open the car door and head back to the hospital, back to Sarah.

Chapter 8

He burst through the door. “I said stay the Hell out of here!” She shouted, back to him.

“Look, there’s something I have to say. I’ll go after that, I’m sorry. I just….this is pretty urgent.” He was embarrassed, and out of breath. He wasn’t getting any younger, and all this rushing around wasn’t good for him. But he had come here for a reason, and that alone had gotten him back in this room.

“Wait, Matthew?” She sniffled, seemed to rub her eyes and turned over. “It’s not you, it doesn’t matter.” She could tell he was uncomfortable, but he was also pretty wound up, practically bouncing off the ceiling. It was strange seeing him like this. “What do you want to say?”

“Have you got a mirror in here?” He asked urgently, eyes wide.

“Yes, right here. For goodness sake Matthew, calm down or you’ll burst a blood vessel.” She reached over to her bedside table, and grabbed a small handheld one from her bedside table, holding it out to Matthew, who was stood behind the chair.

“No, no. Look in it.”

“What?” She looked at the mirror, bringing it down to her side

“Look in the mirror. Then you’ll see.” She complied, and gasped.

“What...why...how?” She pulled at the skin under her eyes, her expression unbelieving, inspecting her eyes.

“I noticed it at the Bungalow, after your...whatever it was. It only just hit me, when I was sat in my car.”

“How could my eyes have gone from blue to, green and brown? It’s just impossible, it can’t be real.”

“How do you expect me to know? You’re the psychic one. You figure it out.” He had calmed down now, and was back to his usual self. Stood practically at the door, as if he was going to bolt any minute. “Wait, how can you stand to be in here? You’re psychic?”

“Yes, your point being?” She was distracted, temporarily, and put the mirror down by her side.

“Well, aren’t you surrounded by dead people trying to get you to pass messages on to family and friends or something?”

“You have watched way too many films, but you do learn to drown them out after a little while. It is just a background hum to be honest. Why the sudden interest?” She was puzzled; it was a ‘less I know the better’ kind of relationship between Matthew and her gift.

“Nothing, just wondering.” He shook his head slightly, and looked down. She thought she knew what he was trying to say, but she also knew he never would. She changed the topic.

“I still don’t understand how this has happened, why?”

“Have you told the Nurse you’re awake yet?”

“Well, not exactly. But I presume they have guessed.” He raised an eyebrow, looking sceptical.

“What leads you to that presumption?” His eyebrow was in serious danger of rising so far it left his forehead.

“Well...I mean...who are you? My Father?” She could feel her inner rebel coming out. She was so sick of people telling her what she should or shouldn’t do, what was right or wrong. She already damn well knew. How could he go from not wanting to be in her general presence in case he contracted the ‘disease’ she appeared to have, to all weird and fatherly? It certainly didn’t help that her idiot of an ex had just ruined her day, and now she was worried about the change of eye colour, which was just impossible. It was all too much, and she just wanted to stay where she was. A Hospital is a weird place to want to stay, but it somehow made her feel more alive, a place where her gift really flexed its muscles. It made her feel powerful, to know all of these people needed her. It was totally sick and selfish, but it had been the same ever since she first entered a hospital.

“Thank God, all of those trips to the Police Station. He must have been relieved when it was up to you to make your own way home.” He began to laugh at his own joke.

“And that. What the Hell is that? You switch from mocking, to petulant child, to terrified of me, to all fatherly. Will you just make your damn mind up? I’m sick of this!” Her voice was rising as she got angrier, and she was just about ready to launch herself at him.

“What on Earth is happening here?” The Nurse asked, walking over to the end of Sarah’s bed to give the two a suspicious stare, hands on hips. “Awake are we? Didn’t it occur to you to inform someone?” Matthew looked down and apologised to the Nurse, who later left to find a Doctor to check on Sarah.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Sarah asked, accusingly.

“Of course, now I had better go. That nurse doesn’t seem to think too highly of me.”

Chapter 9

They sent me home after all of the perfunctory poking, prodding and scanning. I went straight to bed, and dreamt of running away from shadows that were laughing, high pitched and childish and utterly terrifying. I jolted awake, heart still thudding madly in my chest as my memory chased away the ghosts of my nightmares. I look at the clock, 3am. Second time in a row I’m going to be seeing the sunset first hand. I wonder if I’m going to make a habit of this, and immediately dismiss it. As I move this out of my mind, something else enters. My hand reaches for the phone on my bed stand table, evil thoughts running through my mind. Do I want to sink that low? I’m not sure if I’d come back up from it, even though it would be so, so deserved. I don’t really know why I’m arguing with myself, I knew as soon as the notion arrived that it wouldn’t go. In the time I’d been having this discussion, I had unlocked my phone and gone to the phonebook, typed in his name and located his number. I shrugged, smiled, and pressed ‘call’.

He answered on the second ring, albeit groggily. His voice alone was like a punch to the stomach.

“Hello?” He waited a few seconds, and I couldn’t speak for a second. My throat closed and I couldn’t speak, I closed my eyes. I am so pathetic. Opened my eyes.

“Rick?” One word, and my heart was going and my face had turned beetroot red. Oh my God, I’ve called the wrong number. Karma truly is a bitch, what on Earth am I supposed to do now?

“Hey Sar, what’s up?” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I immediately regret my decision.

“Nothing, I can’t sleep and…it doesn’t matter. This is stupid, I’ve got to…”

“I thought you’d deleted my number.”

“What? I mean, to be honest, I thought I did. Look, to be honest-” He interrupted me before I finished, as he always did. Always so much more important for him to say what he had to say, never mind anyone else.

“Well then how are you ringing me now?” His voice was low, definitely mocking me.

“Do you want to go out tomorrow night? For dinner or something? Give things another go.” That was so the wrong thing to say, and I could feel the ‘bitch switch’, as my best friend I school had always called it, flip on. I could hear the smile in his voice, see it on his face and, now, I was starting to smell his cologne. I was getting way too close to the danger zone.

“Don’t you have plans with Jen? Or Laura? I forget the names of all of the others, as I am sure you have.”

“Why can’t you just drop that? I’ve already apologised for that. Anyway, I’d have thought that wrecking the majority of my belongings in a storm would have sated your betrayal?” His voice was rising and in a weird way I loved that I was getting to him, as he always had me. This has to be the first time his cool façade had cracked in the whole time I knew him.

“It was hardly the majority, for crying out loud! And you seriously have the nerve to ask me why can’t I drop the fact that you cheated on me? Several times? Are you seriously so arrogant and up

your own arse that you can’t see how important monogamy is in a relationship? Who do you think-“I couldn’t control it, my voice was rising steadily higher and I knew he wasn’t the only one losing his head.

“Did you actually just ring me just to argue or did you have a point? Because I really don’t need this, especially after you shouted me out of your hospital room just after you rang me, but you have always been a bipolar-“

“What do you mean I rang YOU? I wouldn’t ring you if I was lying in my death bed you idiotic-“

“Well I certainly didn’t ring you just now, did I? And what, do you think I’m lying? How else do you think I knew you were in Hospital? Did you think I had some creepy psychic connection to you, Psychic Sally?” We both stopped, stopped dead. I was stood up for reason, but when I had gotten out of bed I had no idea. I felt sure he would be able to hear my heart beating, and I could feel a migraine coming on. Psychic Sally? Why would he call me that?

“Why did you call me that?” My voice is deadpan, my mouth dry. The ache in my head is bouncing like I thought my heart would be in my chest.

“Call you what?”

“Psychic Sally. Why would you call me that? Where could you have gotten that from?” I seem calm, but internally my mind is going crazy. Where did that come from? I never got round to telling him about my….little quirk. Managed to skirt around the topic every time danger topics like work or childhood came worming its way in to conversation.

“I…I don’t know? What does it matter? It’s just a stupid saying.”

“It isn’t just a stupid saying, and I want to know where you heard that from. Why did you call me that?” I didn’t realise how badly my hands were shaking until now.

“Look, I honestly can’t-“ I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t stand the wheedling, defensive voice anymore. He certainly wasn’t the cool, suave man I had known before. Or been tricked in to knowing. So I hung up. And then, in response to the phones high pitched wailing, stormed downstairs to my living room and yanked the cord thing for the phone out of the wall, cutting the banshee out and leaving my house in eerie silence.

I stand in my living room, staring at the wall, until I start to shiver and realise I have been stood for well over an hour. I shake my head, thinking how much trouble a wrong number can get you in to, and slowly walk up to bed, where I sit. Not sleeping, just staring up at my ceiling, only stopping when I begin to see the ghost of a certain black stain start to appear.