Chapter 3
Within seconds, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the fourth floor, where a life-sized Ronald MacDonald occupied a bench. The wall beside him alternated with projection pictures of Halloween pumpkins and bats. The display showing the season, but sweet enough the kids wouldn't get really scared. In the hospital, there was plenty of darkness to fill nightmares. No one wanted to make it worse.
Which made the wraith even more confusing. Why would someone wear a genuinely scary costume to the pediatric section of a hospital? Granted, dark humor was a way of life here. Otherwise everyone would sound like whiny, over-sensitive drama mavens. But an outfit like that? "That costume crossed the line. There’s no reason to make kids who face a possible death sentence every day fear death like that."
The more she considered it, the angrier she grew. Her lips pressed tight and her forehead scrunched from her frown.
"I have to agree." Davis shrugged, his hands going deep in his jean’s pockets. "Except, maybe it wasn't a representation of death?"
Erin scoffed. "What else would it be?"
They walked the few feet to the Ronald MacDonald house, which was a little bigger than the family room in inpatient. The door was open for all the families who were living in the hospital during long hospital stays. There were beds, laundry facilities, food and a "living room" type area. Would she see one of her parents up here? Was she ready to?
Erin wandered in and sat on one of the benches. The TV was on, the volume a low background noise. The season one finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was playing, before it cut to a commercial announcing a Buffy marathon.
"He didn't have a scythe."
"Huh?"
Davis sat beside her and turned to face her."You asked what else the wraith would be but death."
"Okay. Say he's not death, as in grim reaper." Erin crossed her arms and leaned back. "But a wraith is a spirit of the dead, correct?"
Davis nodded. "Which makes you wonder what would make a spirit look like that." At her strange look, he added, "I mean hypothetically. Buffy had ghosts, but they always looked like regular people. The Sixth Sense, Scooby Doo, and so on."
"A wraith is pretty much called that instead of ‘ghost’ because it is generally considered evil, isn't it?"
"Or it’s a spirit that was seduced to the dark side."
She laughed. "And that is what the dark side of ghosthood looks like? Getting scary and terrifying people? Children?"
Davis shrugged. "It is a possibility. I mean, you've heard all the stories about how children can see what adults can't, right? How about children who face death? What does death look like to them?"
What does death look like to them? Even she didn’t know, despite having it hang over her head since she was younger, other than some dark void of nothingness. A state of no longer being. This was it. This was her. What did her emotions, her experiences, her learning become after life? What did she become?
"So, some spirit went to the dark side and decided to spread its misery by haunting children? Showing them their worst fears?" Erin nodded. "Okay, I can see it. In this hypothetical situation, people who would put on a costume like that in a place like this will die someday and become these wraiths?"
Davis grinned. "Wow, that about sums it up. Talk about justice."
Erin stared at his grin and the glint in his eyes. Talking to him was fun. Not many people she knew could get this random with her. "Okay, what other powers would they have? There would have to be something or Ghost Hunters wouldn't exist as a show."
Davis looked at the ceiling, seeming to consider the question. "How about, if a spirit dies angry, evil or overwhelmed by grief and unable to let go, they become a wraith. A wraith like a hive-minded Borg from Star Trek, where they all hook into one mind and feed each other misery, using their collective mentality to ensnare new recruits."
Erin giggled. "A Borg. Really? And why grief?"
Davis smirked and gave her a look from the corner of his eyes. Then his expression turned serious and he faced her fully. "Jealousy, anger, greed, selfishness, those are kind of momentary. Grief is a pain that can last forever."
Those words struck her like an arrow to the heart. Grief could last forever. Her parents' grief would never diminish. They loved her too much. Her friends would grieve. And Davis would grieve.
No one could forget meeting someone in this place, bonding with them even for a short time, and having them die on you. She’d been there and done that too many times to count. He would feel it. Not as deeply as her parents, perhaps no longer than the occasional reminder from something simple, like seeing the view outside peds onc, but he never would have experienced the sadness of her loss at all if he hadn't met her wandering the halls. If she hadn't showed him around and spent time talking and flirting. Holding his hand. How long would he miss her when she was gone?
She could have spared him that pain. She could still minimize it, if she left him now. Erin stood, wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tight. "I need to go. I have family waiting for me."
Davis stood, frowning. "Did I say something wrong?"
Erin shook her head as Buffy delivered the line that never failed to make her cry. ‘Giles, I'm sixteen. I don't want to die.’
Being nineteen doesn't make it any easier, Buff.
Her eyes burning, filling, Erin left the room, hearing Davis rushing to follow. Ahead of her, a man and woman stepped from the elevators. Their child was a few rooms down from hers in peds oncology and his prognosis was not good. They were worn down to their souls and the last thing they needed was to run into her as she was crying.
Erin turned right, heading past doctors’ offices and toward the rooms where spooky sounds and little kid screams burst through the walls. A haunted house? She actually might be able to cry in privacy there and avoid freaking out her family or Davis. An icy feeling of dread stalked her, similar to what she'd felt when the wraith had appeared in the fish hallway, only this time, her tension was augmented by thoughts of a hive mind directing its minions to gather more souls to feed their misery.
And then came the footsteps behind her. Davis calling her name. And in that moment, she couldn't decide what would be worse. Facing Davis and telling him she only had a questionable amount of hours to live, a handful or a weekend, and that getting to know her better would only prolong his grief later? Or giving into the icy death waiting behind her and allowing her own anger and resentment to envelop her?
Erin opened the door to a dark room full of mocking laughter and spooky moans. Davis could see her enter but the darkness inside made it the perfect place to hide.
Death Is Becoming Page 3