The audience chuckled a little bit. She was captivating. Harris looked over at Gracie, who stared intensely at the brightly lit stage and the star of the show. She could feel herself getting caught up in the excitement, but there was another feeling. Was it dread? Maybe it was just hunger.
First, a dark haired male spirit came forward. He was a brother/father figure to someone. His name was something with a ‘C’. Maggie drifted toward the right of the stage, waiting for his family to come up. Finally, a young woman came running down the aisle, crying. Her husband Chris was killed overseas, serving in the military. She was comforted by the fact that he watched over her. Maggie said that he saw their daughter's birth. Harris had chills. That was impressive. Could she be the real deal?
Next, a woman, someone's mother. Maggie came down from the stage and made her way to the middle row of the front. She was near Harris and Gracie. "Anyone lose their mother? Unexpectedly?"
Gracie looked over at Harris, unsure. Harris shook her head no. They watched Maggie drift closer.
"A mother or mother figure? Taken by a illness? Cancer?" Maggie scanned Harris's section. Suddenly a woman in front of them popped up.
"I lost my mother eight years ago to cancer," the woman blurted out.
Maggie told her how her mother watched her and missed her. She was okay, not to worry. The woman sobbed hysterically.
"Oh I have another here. Hang on hang on. Woah, it's getting busy tonight!" Maggie said. The audience laughed. "A sister? Name starts with 'B'. She is pulling me this way." Maggie came close to Harris and Gracie again. "She is showing me a bridge. Water. A shadow. Anyone lose a sister or sister figure?"
Harris felt her skin flush. Her neck prickled. Sweat soaked her underarms. It couldn't be. Please don't be. Maggie approached her.
"Is this your friend? She is really persistent." Maggie asked her quietly, but her whisper echoed over the speaker system.
Harris nodded. "It could be. Is it Becca?" Harris felt a lump in her throat, choking off her words.
"Becca. Becca was taken unexpectedly. She said she didn't do it. Not sure what that means. She just keeps showing me a bridge and shadow. Bridge and shadow. Oh, and a heart. She loves you."
Harris nodded. It was Becca. She felt her. Gracie looked at her smiling, eyes wide.
"Can you freaking believe this?" Gracie asked.
"Okay, wait. I have another. Over this area again. A man. A father. He is showing me a car. He is in an accident. A father. Hanes. Hain? Haim? Haim I'm hearing." Maggie said, walking past Harris.
"Holy shit, that's you again," Gracie whispered. "She said your fucking name."
Harris stood up. "That's my father. Haim is our last name. He died in a car accident."
Maggie turned and looked surprised for a moment. "Well, I normally only get one per person, but he was here, so. I see a heart. A child's bedroom? Another shadow. A child shadow? I'm not sure what this means. Do you have a child maybe?"
Harris shook her head. "No children. I know. It's my room." Harris could feel what he was telling Maggie the Medium. This WAS real. Harris felt tears in her eyes. She never stopped thinking about her parents, or Becca. "What about my mother? Please. She was murdered."
The audience gasped. Maggie looked around, then closed her eyes. She looked sympathetically at Harris, and shook her head. She started to walk away, when she turned again. Her face had changed. She had a more serious expression, maybe a bit of worry.
"Harris," she said sternly. She looked all around Harris and Gracie, as if flies were swarming over them. "There's too many. I have to move on."
Harris had goosebumps. She never told Maggie her name. The audience started to whisper amongst themselves. Who was trying to contact her? Maggie made her way back up on the stage.
"Sorry, I can't speak to everyone. Let's see who we have next. She looked over at Gracie, from the stage. A spotlight scanned the audience and stopped over her. "A female. Sam."
Harris felt the color leave her face. An image of the ouija board flashed in her mind. It was so long ago, but she was certain. Gracie shook her head, shrugging. Harris felt her head spinning. She stood, feeling wobbly. Tripping over Gracie, she ran toward the exit.
"Harris! Wait, wait," Gracie yelled to her, jumping out of her seat and gathering all of their belongings. She chased after Harris, who was already long gone.
Chapter Nineteen
Harris's phone rang again. Her pocket lit up from the screen. She pulled it out and saw Gracie's picture. She silenced the call. Harris sat at the concrete tables behind Saunders Cafe. It was late. The show was probably ending soon. The cafe had been closed for a couple of hours already. Her phone rang again. Gracie. She ended the call.
The cool air was refreshing. The show played out in her mind again. Maggie's face was different. She was worried, or maybe...scared? Harris was overwhelmed. Her best friend, her father, both had come through. What were they trying to tell her? What about her mother? Where was she? What did Maggie see that shook her so much?
The phone rang again. Marco. Harris hesitated, then silenced it. Why would Marco be calling?
"Wow, you just hang up on me like that?" A voice startled Harris. She turned to see Marco coming around the building.
"What are you doing here?"
"Gracie said you took off. She said she couldn't find you," Marco said.
Harris eyed him suspiciously. "How did you know I'd be here?"
"Harry, you just moved here. You only know like five people and ten places. She tried your house, I tried Boxer's, and this is the last place you could be, work." Marco laughed.
Harris blushed. How simple it made her sound. She did just move to a new city. Marco joked, but his face was more serious than usual.
"What happened? Gracie said you were freaked and you left. She wouldn't tell me any more. Are you okay?"
Harris had never seen Marco's serious side. She studied his face. A butterfly closure strip held closed the cut she had given him on the side of his forehead. A pang of guilt made her huff.
"You don't have to tell me anything. It's okay. Can I sit with you?" Marco stepped up onto the bench and sat on the table next to Harris. He looked down at his hands.
"No, it's not like that. I just-I feel bad about your head. You didn't deserve that." Harris told him.
"Aw that's okay. I shouldn't have been creeping up on a pretty lady in an empty store at night, eh?" Marco laughed at himself.
Harris chuckled a little, too. "Marco, I have had a weird life. Sort of bad. Something tonight, just brought me back there. I got scared, I guess. I can't go through this again."
"I understand. The past can be a bitch." Marco looked off into the darkness, then back at her. "Can I walk you home?"
Chapter Twenty
Harris laid in her bed. Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Gracie.
Gracie
Hope you're okay. Call me soon. XO
She turned her phone over on the bed. Tonight was more than she could handle. She should have known seeing a medium was a terrible idea. She didn't want to make contact with the dead. She came here to get away from the dead.
Harris wished she understood what had happened, what the medium had seen. Something was unsettling to Maggie the Medium. For someone who talks to dead people all day to be unsettled, that just can't be good, she thought. Harris pulled herself up and put her slippers on to shuffle out to the kitchen for a drink.
She grabbed the glass out of the cabinet. Water splashed out of the faucet and into her cup. Harris had a second thought, shut off the sink and poured out her water. Another cabinet held a bottle of liquor. Harris sloshed some amber liquid into her glass. This is exactly what she needed, a stiff drink, she thought.
A snack might be good, too, Harris thought. She turned toward the fridge and opened it, letting the cool air escape.
Ssshhrrt.
The glass dragged across the counter-top.
Harris froze, still holding the fridge door, staring s
traight ahead. She was too scared to turn around. What she wouldn't give for this to be Marco. Or even Dylan.
Ssshhhrt. Ssssshhhhhhhhhhrrt. Silence.
Ssshhrr-crash.
The glass shattered across the floor. Liquor and glass shards sprayed the backs and sides of Harris's ankles. She could feel her heartbeat in her head, still staring into the fridge. Her breath quickened.
A hand grabbed her ankle and paused for a just a moment, with just enough time for Harris to gasp. With an insurmountable amount of power, Harris's foot was yanked backwards, pulling her off of her feet and flinging her face-down to the floor. It didn't stop there. Pulling her through the spilt liquid and broken glass, the hand and whatever it was attached to, dragged Harris unnervingly fast across the kitchen floor.
She tried to grab at anything as she screamed. It was just too fast. She slipped through the living room, and into her bedroom. Her body slid under her bed but she was able to lift her arm and stop, finally. Tears poured down her face. The hand burned around her ankle, pulling so hard she thought it would rip her foot from her body. Harris cried as she tried to pull herself out but the thing was impossibly strong. Under the bed, it felt like she was being pulled down through the floor, only the floor was just a hole. Her legs felt hot and slimy, all the way up to her hips.
A yank from the thing pulled her farther under, and her arm twisted and bent the wrong way, causing a sickening crack to come from her elbow. Pain shot from her elbow down to her fingertips and back up to her neck. She started to tremble.
Harris screamed through her sobs. "Help me! Please God, help!"
Her arm jerked above her head as she went further under the bed, not quite fitting. There was nothing left to do. Harris sobbed as she surrendered to the monster. Her arm hurt too much to try to pull herself away. She couldn't fight it. She let her body go limp and squeezed her eyes shut as this thing struggled to free her lodged upper half. This was it. Harris cried quietly now, biting her bottom lip.
The pulling stopped.
Harris could still feel a warm sticky feeling on her lower half, but nothing was gripping her. She used her good arm to try and roll herself free from under the bed. She managed to get her shoulder and arm un-jammed.
Pain shot through her body again, but it quickly numbed. Moving her legs to push out from under the bed felt like pushing through mud. It was thick and hard to move, but she was able to free herself after kicking out again and again.
Feeling her legs free, Harris army crawled as best and as fast as she could with one arm. Her pulse raced as she could see her escape from this thing and this place she was being dragged to. She was almost there. Two feet, one more foot, inches to go...she did it. She bounced up to her hand and knees, the other arm dangling, and crawled furiously out if the room, only looking back once she had cleared the doorway.
Harris jumped to her feet and ran out of her house in seconds. She sat on the steps across the street shivering. Her fingers felt tingly and her arm ached, but shock had mostly numbed her. Harris jumped to her feet and vomited over the rail. After wiping her mouth off on her shirt, she looked at her arm. It dangled at an unnatural angle, making her feet feel cold. Harris picked up her phone up, dialed 911, then laid back on the steps and passed out.
Chapter Twenty-One
That familiar hospital smell filled Harris's nostrils. She heard the same beeps and boops that she had the last several times. How did she end up here again? She opened her eyes slowly, expecting to see her mother's worried face over her, waiting for her to wake up. Dylan would be near the door, anxiously pacing. Her father would be sitting by the bed, holding her hand. None of that was true this time. Harris missed the moment when she had briefly forgotten all she had lost. Then Dylan walked in.
"Oh my God, what the hell, Harris? Are you okay?" Dylan hurried over to her side and grabbed her hand.
Harris looked down at her body. Her right arm was in a cast from her shoulder to her hand, stuck in a bent position. She inspected the rest. The tops of her feet were bandaged and wrapped. She pulled the blanket aside. Her legs were covered in bandages in various place. A knot from her stitches stuck out from behind the bandage on her knee. She peered down into her hospital gown. Bandages on her chest and stomach followed a trail leading up to her neck. She felt her chin with her good hand. Stitches ribbed her chin. She felt the rest of her face. It felt normal, no bandages at least.
"Your face is fine. The rest of you not so much. Were you drinking?" Dylan asked, after watching her take inventory of her wounds.
"No. Wait. No, I wasn't. We went to a show, a medium, Oh God, Gracie. I have to call her."
"Relax. We can call whoever in a little bit. Tell me what happened first. Did someone do this to you?"
Harris thought back. Her mind felt fuzzy. They must have given her something for the pain. "No," she said. "It was someTHING. We went to the medium show. She saw my family, the medium did. Umm. Something else. I went home. Then the glass broke. Something dragged me. The glass was everywhere. It pulled me under the bed." Harris was weeping now.
Dylan looked distressed. "Harris, listen. They said you reeked of alcohol. It was on your clothes. You had cuts all over your body and your chin was split pretty bad, like you fell in the road or something. You also had bruises on your ribs and arms. And your arm is pretty badly broken. They think maybe you were drunk and stumbled into the road and were hit by a car. They found you next to a puddle of puke."
Harris let it all set in. Was she hit by a car? Maybe she dreamed the thing in her apartment. The fog still sat pretty heavily on her brain. "I told you what I remember. I'm not sure what else. Maybe, I don't know."
"It's okay. Just rest for now. We can sort it out." Dylan patted her hand.
"Wait. Why-how are you here?" Harris suddenly remembered she was twenty-two hours away from Dylan's house.
"You put me as your emergency contact in your phone. When they called and said you were in an accident and were unconscious, I bought a plane ticket for the next flight to you."
"What? How? But how are you here so fast?"
"Harris, they called me two days ago." Dylan frowned. "I just got here yesterday, but I've been sleeping on that couch, waiting for you to wake up."
The room spun. What the hell HAD happened? Nothing made any sense. She must have been hit by a car. That made sense. Gracie and Marco were probably worried sick. Marco.
An older man in a white coat knocked on the open door. "Hello. Glad to see you're alert this time. I'm Dr. Olver. Everything looks okay with the head scans, no swelling, bleeding, or anything alarming. The break set beautifully, you've got about eight weeks in that cast and you will be a free woman. You will definitely need physical therapy to regain motion. How are you feeling? Do you remember anything?"
Harris shook her head. She did remember some things, but she couldn't separate fact from fiction right now, so she chose to let them do the guesswork.
"Okay, that's fine. Give it time. We removed glass from some of the wounds. Did your fiance tell you this already? We were suspecting you may have been hit by a car. The extent of your injuries match a hit by a vehicle and possibly being dragged for a brief time?" He looked at Harris expectantly, hoping to make something click for her. "Nothing? Oh also the blood work came back. There was alcohol on your clothes but none in your blood. Nothing at all actually. No drugs either. So the vomiting may have been from shock. Let's see." He paused a moment to look over his notes. "The nurse has your clothes. Your clothes were soaked with something so the detectives took them to try to identify it. They are hoping it will help them figure out what happened." Dr. Olver smiled with a firm, awkward smile. "If you have any questions, let us know. Ring for a nurse." With that, he nodded a goodbye nod, and walked out of the room.
"Detectives?" Harris asked.
"Yeah well they think you were in a hit and run. Or you could have been assaulted. The police usually get involved when there is a crime." Dylan smirked.
Harris
nodded. "Woah hang on. Fiance?"
Dylan bit his lip and shrugged. "I needed info. They'll tell your fiance more than your ex-boyfriend." He smiled wide, showing his teeth.
Harris rolled her eyes but smirked, charmed by his smile. Her chin throbbed for the stitches. She rolled over and closed her eyes. She was tired from sleeping for two days. She would figure this all out when she got some more rest.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Harris sat on her couch, arm propped up on a pillow. She had her laptop open next to her, working on a design for a client. Fumbling with her left hand, Harris tried to click and drag something with the touch pad.
"God damn you," she yelled at her computer and slammed it shut.
"What's that?" Dylan called from her kitchen.
"Nothing. I can't work like this. My arm hurts. My cuts itch. My head hurts. I'm hungry." Harris complained.
Dylan appeared with a tray in his hands. A chocolate peanut butter smoothie sat in a tall glass next to some sliced up fruit. He set it on the coffee table in front of Harris.
"Ta-da! How about this to make everything suck a little less," he offered, waving his arm in front of the food like it was a big reveal and he was a magician's assistant.
"Thanks Trixie. They gonna saw you in half next?" Harris joked.
"Har-har. You're welcome," he said, dryly.
"Thank you. Seriously thank you. Thank you for flying out. Thank you for staying to take care of me. You didn't have to do all this," Harris said, her eyes gleaming with sincerity.
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