"What?" Harris screamed. "No. No, that's not possible." Goosebumps rippled down her spine, then her arms and legs. "She killed herself? No. Mom. She wouldn't. What the fuck?" Harris stood up, knocking the stool backwards to the floor. She began to pace.
Mrs. Haim sobbed. She walked toward Harris to try to console her, but Harris wouldn't stop moving. Instead of sadness, anger boiled up inside her.
"No. Fuck that. Nope. This is wrong. You guys are wrong. She'd never jump," Harris yelled. She stopped and stared into her mother's eyes, which were bright red and pouring tears down her face.
Mrs. Harris tilted her head and clenched her hands in front of her chest. Sorrow sunk into Harris's body. She collapsed to the floor, crying uncontrollably. Her mother rushed to her side, on the floor, and embraced her.
Harris and her mother cried together, there on the floor. Harris felt an emptiness settle into her body as grief took hold of her. This couldn't be real. This had to be another nightmare. She just wanted to wake up.
Chapter Nine
The weather was unfittingly pleasant. The sun warmed the bodies of the mourners as they stood around a gleaming silver casket. A portrait sat on an easel, overlooking the crowd that had gathered to say goodbye. Becca's parents chose the perfect picture. She tilted her head away from the camera slightly. Her blonde hair hung down behind her cheek. On the side facing the camera, her tresses had been tucked behind her tiny ear. She smiled, not just with her mouth, but her eyes as well. She was always so genuine, and this picture reflected that.
Harris had wanted to stand up at the funeral and say something about her best friend. That she had known her since second grade. That she was so real. That she was a great friend. She wanted everyone to know that Becca was funny, outgoing, and caring. They probably knew all of that. She was so transparent. Harris tried, but she failed. She couldn't stand up there. Without Becca there, she could not find the strength to face this. Harris was lost.
The funeral was heart wrenching. Her parents and little brother were an absolute mess. Aaron, her brother, had cried so much his sleeves were sopping wet. Becca's parents looked broken. There was no other way to describe them. Harris felt selfish for hurting so badly, when Becca's family didn't just lose their best friend, they lost an only daughter and sister. She kept to herself until it was done and they were back home.
"Sweetie, are you doing okay? You haven't said a word the whole day," Mr. Haim asked, touching Harris on the arm tenderly.
"Yeah, well no. I miss her already. And I feel so sad for her family. I don't understand why she would do this. She seemed fine."
"They always say that. Sometimes people who are hurting put on a brave face," Mr. Haim said.
Harris shook her head. "I don't know, Dad. Something just isn't right. It's Becca. I don't know."
Harris changed out of her funeral clothes and packed up her things. She trod slowly down the stairs, knowing exactly what to expect when her parents saw her.
"Where are you going? You can't go home. Honey, please stay another night. You have been through so much. Your house is fine without you for another night," Harris's mom pleaded.
"Mom, I haven't been home in like two weeks. I need to be in my own bed. I'll be okay. You and Dad can call me and check on me whenever you need."
Mrs. Haim looked pained. She looked to Mr. Haim for support.
"I think we would just worry less if we could be here for you, in case you need us," he suggested.
"I know. I get it. I just want to go home and be alone and rest. I promise, I will be okay. Plus, my cat is probably dead by now," Harris answered.
"What? You got a cat? Harris why wouldn't you say something," Mrs. Haim flushed.
"I'm kidding Mom. No cat. Just a couple of spiders in my bathroom," Harris joked, smiling.
"Oh my God, Harris," Mrs. Haim said angrily, but then a smile crept up on her face as well. She chuckled a little. "Okay, fine. Go home to your spiders. But call us when you get home and before bed."
"And when you wake up," Mr. Haim added.
"Yes, fine. Done," Harris smiled. She said her goodbyes and headed home to her little apartment.
* * *
The second she put her key into her door, her cell phone buzzed. She looked down. Ugh, Dylan.
Dylan
How are you? Mom said you went home? Can I come keep you company?
Harris sighed and leaned in on her door. The house was especially dark. The light over the sink was usually on, but someone had shut it off. It was probably Dylan when he barged into her apartment and saved her life. Asshole. Harris went to the fridge for a beer. She switched on the light above the sink. It flickered.
Great, she thought, now the bulb is going. She wasn't even sure how to open the fixture to get to the light bulb. Oh well. She turned it off and flicked on the ceiling light. That was decidedly less creepy. Plopping in front of the television, Harris cracked open her beer. She flipped through shows, deciding what to watch, when her phone buzzed again.
Dylan
Just wondering if you are okay. Pls text me back.
Harris rolled her eyes and texted him back.
I am fine. Don't need anyone. Just watching Home Hunt Holly. Thx.
Harris tossed her phone next to her. A shadow caught her eye. It darted past her, across the floor.
"Screw you," she said into the dimly lit room.
A squeak came from behind the couch. Maybe it was actually a rat. Hesitantly, Harris stood and turned to lean over the back of the couch. Black hair sprouted from a figure, trailed down it's slender shape, and down onto the floor for at least a foot. She sucked in a breath sharply and backed away from the couch. The black hair started to rise from behind the couch, slowly. The path to the front door was blocked. Harris turned and ran down her hallway. Grabbing at her bedroom door, she tripped and landed face down. Under her face, was foot after foot of long, black hair. She scrambled up, trying to free herself from the tangle. Backing into the bathroom door, she turned the knob and rushed in. She held her breath waiting for a sound, but heard nothing.
Letting her breath out, she turned and rested her head on the door. The window, she thought. She'd have to go out the window. Harris climbed on the toilet and opened the window. It was far, almost twenty feet, overlooking the back parking lot. Thinking for a moment, Harris tried to line up the car below her with her projected fall. She stuck one foot out the window and started to pull herself up.
This is crazy, she thought. Climbing back down onto the toilet, she rubbed her eyes. What was she doing? When she looked back up, a girls face stared at her. Long black hair wrapped around the entire bathroom. Harris stood, but couldn't move. The girl moved closer, her expression still. The hair coiled around Harris's arms and legs, then around her neck. Soon it had tangled around her face and began forcing itself into her mouth. She gagged and coughed as hair filled her throat. Flailing her arms and legs as hard as she could did nothing, as the hair held her tight.
Harris could feel her lungs burning. She couldn't breathe. Hair filled her stomach and she heaved, but nothing helped. She would die here. A light filled her vision and she suddenly felt released from the pain and fear that gripped her. Then everything went silent.
Chapter Ten
Pain waved over Harris's body. It felt as if she had been rolled over by a car. She opened her eyes slightly to take in the room. Feeling the cold tile against her skin reminded her that she was still in the bathroom. She got up, still groggy. Harris's throat burned as if she had swallowed fire. She remembered the girl with the black hair. She tried to recall exactly what happened, but her brain was in a fog. Then she remembered she couldn't breathe. She was covered, choking, suffocating, and it went dark. Why did it let her go? Why didn't it kill her, she wondered. How long she had been out for? Harris made it to the living room to look for her phone. The house was empty, although it didn't feel that way. She went to call Becca.
Oh right.
Her belly felt hollowed out
. She sank into the couch. Never had she felt so lost. She couldn't call her mom and go back home. She absolutely could not stay here and allow some ghost to murder her. Her phone rang. It was Dylan.
"Hey, how is everything? Are you doing okay?"
"Actually no. I really need Becca. This is so hard," Harris said, not attempting to mask the desperation she felt.
"I know. I can't believe she's gone. I wanted to talk to you, actually. About Becca and you. Are you busy?”
"No, I'm not actually."
"Would you meet me for coffee, please?" Dylan almost begged.
Without hesitation, Harris snapped back, "yes, sure. Are you free now? Because I'm free."
Dylan stammered, "now? Oh, okay. Y-yes. Yeah. I'm free now. Cafe Leche okay?"
Relieved, Harris answered, "please. I've got to get out of here. Be there in 10."
* * *
The coffee shop smelled divine. Roasted beans and steamed milk made an enticing aroma. Harris sat at a small square table, across from Dylan. She stared into her frothy drink, pensive.
"So, have you been able to sleep?" Dylan asked carefully.
"No. I don't sleep anymore." Harris had not really slept in weeks. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Her face held a perpetual frown.
"The dreams are back?"
Harris looked up at Dylan. He was still handsome. His hair needed a trim. Bags lined his eyes, too. He was wearing his stress on his face.
"Yeah. The dreams, and other things. Shadows." Harris was selective in sharing her haunted experiences. In the past, she had told Dylan about nightmares and seeing shadows in her house when she was growing up. When they lived together, nightmares of ghosts visiting her would keep her up. She shared that, too.
"That's because you're back at your mom's. It will be better at home," he replied.
Harris pictured the long-haired ghost girl. She shuddered. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Harris, I'm worried about you. Now that Becca is gone..." he hesitated, planning his words thoughtfully. "I miss you. I want you to come back home, where you belong. We can work this out. I can look out for you and support you. You've been through so much. It all made me realize, I would do anything for you."
"Anything?" Harris was both shocked and skeptical. She tried to hold it back, but the words just slipped from her lips. "Even marriage?"
"Yeah. Even marriage," Dylan answered so confidently it seemed as though he had rehearsed it.
Harris was speechless. There was so much to consider. She had already written him off. She had a new apartment, that was full of ghosts. She couldn't even ask Becca what to do. Harris tried to hear Becca in her head. Would she say screw him or go for it? Harris thought about her own lungs on fire, screaming for air, the cold tiles waking her up.
"Okay. I'll do it," Harris blurted out.
Dylan looked stunned. He clearly did not expect things to be so easy. "Yes? Yes. Okay, great. I can help you pack." He was smiling ear to ear.
"This is a trial basis. We are not official, not yet. I need time," Harris asserted.
"Yeah of course. No problem. But you still want to move back in?"
"Yes, definitely." Harris was relieved. She missed Becca, but at least she'd have Dylan back. She could make it work, again. He was willing to change. And she'd be out of that terrifying apartment.
Chapter Eleven
The moving van held all of Harris's belongings so neatly. Her father had rented a truck, and he, Dylan, and Harris moved all of her things from her tiny brick apartment, back into Dylan's house. Dylan had bought his house while in college. It was a run down, dump. He wanted to rehab and flip it for a profit, but had grown so attached to it, he decided to keep it, and the debt. Harris loved that he had his own home, it made him seem so responsible, a trait she fell in love with.
"Did you get everything out of the coat closet?" Dylan asked.
"I didn't have a coat closet. My apartment WAS a coat closet," Harris joked.
Dylan smiled at her. Things felt good. They felt...normal. Harris was smiling for most of the day, as they found places for all of her old things, and the new things she bought when she moved into her apartment.
"Welcome home," he said, and kissed her on the forehead.
Pizza was the perfect dinner for moving day. They sat in the small, eat-in kitchen and dove into a cheesy pepperoni pizza with olives, Harris's favorite. Dylan joked about how he had to go back to picking olives off of his pizza again, when there was a knock at the door.
"It's kind of late, isn't it?" Dylan shrugged and got up to get the door.
Harris took another bite of her pizza. She felt an odd pop between her teeth. The pizza moved inside her mouth. She looked down at the slice in her hand. A sea of yellow maggots squirmed in her hands, some rolling on to the floor. Harris spit her food out onto her plate. Some squashed, some still writhing maggots fell onto her dish. Harris jumped up from her seat. The whole pizza was infested with the bugs.
"Har?" Dylan's voice startled her. He looked her over, as she stood away from her seat, gaping at her dinner.
Harris looked at Dylan, then back at the food. Just pizza. No insects. Her plate had her slice and a chewed up bite next to it. A pepperoni sat on the floor near her chair.
"Are you alright?" Dylan asked.
"Oh. Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I just, I bit something hard. Think it was a dried up olive. I'm good." Harris tried to act normal.
Dylan side-eyed her, then sat back down to eat. "Okay. Well I should call them and complain. Oh, it was the neighbor. You left your headlights on in the driveway. I shut them off for you." He went back to eating.
"Thanks," Harris said. She looked down at her pizza. She couldn't eat anymore. Her appetite was gone.
After dinner, the pair sat on the couch, in front of the television. Dylan sat close to Harris, but didn't attempt to touch her or move in on her. It made her comfortable. She leaned her head on his shoulder. She could feel his smile.
"Do you want me to sleep here?" Dylan pointed to the couch they were on. "You can take the bed?"
Harris shook her head. "I'm okay sleeping by you, again. Just no funny business. Unless, I say so," she said with a smirk. Harris fell asleep almost instantly. Her head settled into her pillow and that was it.
"Hey," Becca said with her cheeky smile.
Harris felt warmth run through her whole body. She grinned. "Hey Becca. You're dead." Harris frowned.
"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't do it. I didn't do it." Becca said, moving closer. Behind her, the river roared. They stood on a bridge.
"I'm sorry. I didn't believe them, though. What happened?" Harris asked.
"I miss everyone. Tell my mom I miss her. I'm sorry. It wasn't me." Becca's voice trailed off. She turned and looked over the bridge, out onto the river below.
"I will. I miss you." Harris felt tears well up in her eyes. Everything became blurry.
Becca climbed onto the rail running along the ledge. She turned and faced Harris. Harris stared into her eyes, trying to hold on to this moment, to remember exactly how she looks. Tears streamed down Becca's face. She looked afraid. Harris didn't move. Becca held Harris's gaze. She leaned back and let gravity pull her body into the cold rushing water below.
Harris jumped up from her sleep. She looked around the room. Dylan slept peacefully next to her. The light from the alarm clock lit the room up enough to make out the shapes of the furniture. The moon was bright outside the window, sending moonbeams past the slits in the curtain, illuminating bits and pieces of the room. In the corner of the room, two glowing dots caught her attention. She squinted to make out what was so reflective. Harris strained her eyes to find the outline of whatever it was to no avail. Then, they moved.
Harris froze. Her eyes opened wide. Her pupils dilated, trying to let in as much light as they could. Her heart pounded. The rush of blood echoed in her ears. Something was in the room.
It scurried from the corner toward the window. The moonlight revealed t
he outline of a form. The glowing circles appeared again, as they caught the light just right. They flicked to the side. Were they...eyes? The eyes disappeared as the form scurried toward Dylan's side of the bed.
"Dylan," Harris whispered, shaking Dylan's shoulder, afraid to alert the creature. A noise came from the ground, near the bed. Harris was louder this time. "Dylan," she yelled, slapping his arm.
"What? What happened. You okay?" Dylan opened one eye and sat up, still groggy.
"I saw something."
"Where? In here?" Dylan turned on the light next to his bed.
Harris pointed to the floor next to Dylan. He looked down and back at her.
"Nothing," he said with patience.
Harris scanned the room with her eyes. Left and right, left and right. Whatever it was, it was gone. She felt her face flush.
"It's okay Harris. You've had a rough time. Can I hold you? Will it help you sleep?"
Harris nodded. She would try anything. Dylan touched the light, but then left it on. He laid down and pulled Harris close, wrapping his arm around her. She felt his warm breath on her hair. In the well lit room, in the embrace of her almost-boyfriend, Harris was able to fall asleep again. She hoped for a dreamless night. She just needed to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Laughter carried through the air. Harris strolled through the park, following the concrete path. Chatter from a group of ladies getting their daily power walk in buzzed in her ears. She smiled as they passed. She felt a sense of peace, out here in the open air. Lately, everything had been so tumultuous. At her parents, her apartment, now even Dylan's, Harris had been terrorized by spirits. The only place she felt safe was out in the fresh air.
Harris Page 4