"I will," Harris said aloud to Janelle's spirit.
Not much more than a handful of times, Harris had dreams where someone she knew appeared after death and gave her some sort of message. At first she thought they were just dreams, but after this one, she was sure they had all been real. She was going to contact Tara and give her the message. She had to. Maybe being haunted had some benefits. Harris thought about Becca. She had really came to see her that night, in her dream. It must have been her. Maybe she could see her parents again. Her mind raced.
Harris grabbed her coffee and took it to the dining room, where she opened up her laptop and started searching for Tara on social media. It didn't take long before she was sending her a message.
Hey, how is everything? Sorry to be totally random, but I wanted to talk to you about something. Could I call you, or call me, when you have a chance?
It showed Tara was offline, so she would get the message whenever she logged on. Maybe this is what she needed to do. Maybe these ghosts wanted her to send messages for them. Then, maybe they would leave her alone. She started to close her laptop when she remembered the coffee shop. Harris pulled up the document from before.
The words were still there. The whole conversation was saved in the document. She read through it again. Harris had read through it probably close to thirty times, trying to make sense of it. There was just no reason for it. Her finger tapped on the edge of the keyboard. She had a dumb idea.
Hey. Are you there?
She waited and watched the little white cursor blink. Nothing happened. Rumbling shook her belly, so she got up to make an egg on toast, leaving the computer open in case there was an answer. Every few minutes, she checked back. Nothing. Her egg was done. Nothing. She sat and ate in front of the computer and willed the words to appear, but nothing did.
After breakfast, Harris gave up and put her laptop away. There was no way she would get that lucky. It could be so helpful to be able to communicate with these souls. She needed answers. She needed a solution. The front door opened, pulling her away from her thoughts.
"Harris, you home?" Dylan's voice called through the house.
"In the living room," she shouted back.
Dylan appeared with his hand behind his back. He grinned. Harris gave him a questioning look, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. He winked and pulled his arm from behind his back, revealing a huge bouquet of flowers. Harris squealed.
"For me?" she asked with excitement.
"Of course, my love," Dylan said with his best french accent impersonation. He handed her the flowers and they kissed. "I just wanted to show you how happy I am that we are back together and that things are going so well. What a relief that we got everything in order. I'm so happy that you are feeling better. We can finally be happy and focus on us. Let's celebrate with dinner."
Harris swallowed a lump in her throat. She should have just told Dylan when things were getting weird again. Now it's too late. Although, she could still say something. Dylan's smile went from his chin to his eyes. It was warm and gleeful. Harris did love him so much. She couldn't ruin this.
"Sounds good," she replied, trying to disguise the hollowness of her voice.
Dylan scanned her face, shrugged, then kissed her again. "El Bellavito, tonight," he told Harris. "Be ready for some food and heavy petting."
Harris giggled.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The restaurant was busy, but Dylan had called ahead and reserved a table. People spoke softly and were dressed in fine clothes, as they nibbled on sixty dollar dishes. Classical music played quietly in the background. This was the epitome of fancy restaurants. Harris wore a satin dress and Dylan wore a suit and tie. She worried about overdressing, but was glad to find that was not the case, maybe not even possible.
"Where did you bring me? Oh my God." Harris whispered as they sat at their intimate, candlelit table.
"What? You don't like it?" Dylan frowned.
"No, I love it. It's beautiful. Plus, I haven't worn this dress since Mickey's wedding. What exactly are we celebrating?"
"I'm just so happy that we are back together. And I'm happy that you're better, now. I was so worried about you, being in and out of the hospital, terrified of being alone in the dark. It's no way for anyone to live. I just wanted you to be happy and feel safe," Dylan told her.
Harris smiled, but she didn't have to force it. She knew it wasn't all true, but she was so content, it didn't matter. She loved to see Dylan like this. He was cheerful and relaxed.
"Monsiuer, Madame, good evening. I am your waiter, Claude. Can I start you with something," a tall, lean man in a tuxedo asked in a very heavy, French accent.
Harris's head whipped back to Dylan and her eyes practically bugged out of her head. Dylan gave her a side-eye, then responded to their waiter.
"Yes, thank you Garcon. Claude, we will start with the tapenade and some pinot grigio, please," Dylan answered.
"Excellent choice," Claude bowed slightly and took off for the kitchen.
"Oh. My. Freaking. God. Did you hear him? An actual French waiter. This is some upscale shit," Harris whispered to Dylan, tapping his shin with her toe. "And listen to you, 'garcon'. Who are you?"
Dylan blushed. "Have to take my girl out and treat her right." He winked.
Harris was enjoying herself. She had forgotten about her spirits and ghosts. Dylan had a way of making her forget her troubles. They chatted and laughed while they sipped wine and ate fancy food served with excessive plate garnishes.
"Let's upgrade to champagne, huh?" Dylan said to both Claude and Harris, when Claude had returned to check on them.
Harris shrugged. She enjoyed champagne, why not?
Claude returned with a bottle of pale yellow, bubbly, nestled in a small, pristine, stainless steel ice bucket. He set the bottle down and walked off. Harris watched him with his waiter-walk, considering there might be training for that in a place like this.
Harris turned to see Dylan standing over her. She noticed the dining area had gone quiet. Dylan lowered to the floor, dropping down to one knee. He pulled a box from his pocket.
"Harris, our love has outlasted everything from Heaven to Hell. I think about you when I first open my eyes. I think about you right before I close them to sleep. I dream about you, about us, about our future. I love you, and will always love you."
"Harris Haim, will you marry me?" Dylan opened the box. A dazzling diamond ring sparkled at Harris. She sat, speechless for a minute.
Harris looked at the ring then back to Dylan. "Yes! Yes I will!". Her heart raced. This is everything she ever wanted with Dylan. He slid the ring on her finger and they kissed. The restaurant patrons 'ooo'd and 'awww'd then applauded. Claude appeared just in time and popped open the champagne.
* * *
Walking to the car, Harris felt like she was floating. The darkness felt like a hug, rather than its typically stifling presence. Dylan couldn't keep his eyes off of Harris for long. She swayed as she walked, glowing with joy. Dylan opened the car door for Harris. She climbed into the passenger seat of the car.
"Wow lucky you," a voice growled from the back seat.
Harris spun around to see nothing but an empty seat. Dylan's door opened.
"I was thinking a movie. I mean, it is way too late to go to the movies, but we could rent one," Dylan said, getting in the car. He looked over at Harris. His smile faded. "You okay?"
"Oh, yeah I'm great. I'm just tired, I guess. Exciting night," she said, smiling and patting Dylan’s arm.
"Oh, okay good. So, no movie?"
"A movie would be fine," Harris answered with a soft laugh.
The roads were desolate. There was a chill in the air that kept all of the people in their warm homes at this hour. Many of the businesses in town were closed, but a few swaggy bars and restaurants were still entertaining the night crowd. However, no one was out on the roads. A fog rolled across the roadway as they drove farther from the center of town.
"
Wow check this fog," Dylan said, sounding impressed. "It must be that cool breeze coming in. Good thing for fog lights, right?" He shot a glance at Harris and gave her wink.
"Yeah, good thing." Harris faced her window and watched the fog thicken. Her breath fogged the glass, making it even harder to see. She turned back toward the windshield. A tall dark creature darted out from the mist, in front of Dylan's car.
Harris screamed, "Dylan watch out!"
Dylan slammed on the breaks and swerved. He looked out the windshield, then back at Harris.
"Harris what the hell? I could have killed us. My heart is pounding."
Harris searched out the windshield, her window, and back again. Sheepishly, she turned toward Dylan. "Sorry, I thought I saw an animal run in front of the car."
"You thought you saw an animal? Harris what has gotten into you lately. You've been jumping at mice, screaming in the dark, looking at me like I have three heads-" Dylan stopped himself as a thought hit him. "Oh my God, you're not cured, are you? Why did you lie? You are still seeing ghosts."
"Dylan I'm sorry. You were just so carefree, not being caught up in my drama. I didn't mean to lie. You were so happy," Harris frowned, her eyes filled with tears.
"Yeah, I was happy that you were better. Happy for you, Harris. Now what?"
Harris shrugged and her eyes fell down to her lap. She couldn't look at Dylan any more. The guilt was heavy. Dylan was quiet. Harris felt his eyes on her.
"Well, I guess we need to see the next spirit specialist," Dylan said, breaking his silence.
Harris was ready for Dylan to call off the engagement, take the ring back, and drop her off. Instead, he forgave her and was ready to help her, again. He really would do anything for her. They drove off toward home. Harris felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. She smirked, admiring her new sparkly ring, and her new fiance.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Harris stared at the dark ceiling. Dylan lay beside her, sleeping soundly soundly.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Harris closed her eyes, but the tapping continued. She thought to wake Dylan, since it might stop when he wakes up.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Something tapped on her bedroom wall, high up near the ceiling. Harris was afraid to look, her eyes focused at a spot on the ceiling directly above her head. It could just be a noise. Or there could be something to go along with the noise, a figure, a ghost, a monster. She squeezed her eyes tight.
Tap. Tap.
The tapping stopped. Harris could feel something in the room still. Whatever it was, it had stopped, but it hadn't gone. She opened her eyes the slightest bit, just enough to see faint outlines and shadows.
Across the room, sitting up in the corner between the ceiling and the wall, a black shape sat still. In the dark, with her eyes squinted, it almost resembled a giant bird. She opened her eyes more. A black shrouded demon or spirit of some sort crouched up into the corner of the wall. It was staring directly at Harris, not moving. She could just barely make out the light reflecting on the surface of its jet black eyes.
It started crawling sideways, following the seam of the wall and ceiling. It moved unnaturally, bending and twisting, jerking and stopping. Harris was immobilized by fear. Regardless of all of her encounters, there was always something terrifying and new to make her blood run cold. Harris squeezed her eyes shut again. She hoped it would give up and move on. She opened her eyes again. Inches from her face, black eyes glared into her. An oblong face with no discernible mouth hovered over her own. A weight pressed down on her chest as the creature perched on her.
Harris screamed as loud as she could, but the demon stole her air, pressing on her chest. The creature held up its hand and pointed up one extremely sharp looking clawed finger. Its head cocked to the side, curiously. With a quick swipe, it slashed at Harris's wrist, causing her warm blood to stream out on to her hand. The blood soaked her sheet and dampened the back of her nightshirt.
The creature leapt off after a moment, and crawled back into the corner of the room, disappearing into the shadows. Harris panicked, blood still pouring from her arm. She sat up, but felt woozy. She started slapping at Dylan to get his attention, but weakness gripped her muscles.
"What's up babe?" Harris heard Dylan's voice, as it became muffled and her vision blurred. "Babe? Shit Harris! Get up. Harris. Harris."
Then he faded away.
* * *
Harris stood in a black void. It wasn't dark, there was just blackness everywhere. She could see herself clearly, when she looked down at her hands and legs. Maybe she was dead. The same creature from her bedroom appeared in the void with her. It crawled towards her, then stood up. As it came closer, she watched its face twist and contort until it morphed into her father.
"Did you pray?" The creature asked, from her father's mouth. Its voice sounded like a small choir of voices speaking together, each one with its own eerie tone, but perfectly in sync with the others.
Harris nodded. She had been praying every day.
The demon laughed. Then it twisted its body sideways with a snapping noise. "You can't hide. Let us pray. Our Father, there is no heaven, cursed be thy name. Thy kingdom gone, thy will ignored, on Earth, in Hell, no Heaven." The face morphed again, this time to Becca, but it wasn't right. The features were crooked and not proportionate. It's head snapped upwards and to the left, as if it was startled by something. "Ugh. Fuck off," its voices growled in unison.
Harris felt a pull on her body, as if something was pulling her backwards through the void a million miles an hour. She watched the demon shrink rapidly as she left him behind. The room became light and busy with movement. Voices surrounded her. Then they were gone, and an all too familiar smell and sound told Harris she was in the hospital again.
Her eyelids were pulled shut by invisible weights, but she managed to pry them open slowly. Dylan dove next to her, grabbing onto her hand.
"Babe, oh Christ. I thought you were going to die. What happened? Why'd you do that?" He was crying.
Harris tried to talk, but her throat felt dry and torn. She closed her eyes again. She listened to Dylan sob into one hand, as he held onto her with the other. This had to stop. She couldn't hurt Dylan anymore.
"The ghost. Demon. I-" Harris stopped to take a labored breath, "did not do this. Please be...believe me." Tears streamed from her eyes as she pleaded with her fiance.
He studied her face. He studied her for a long time, it seemed. She knew he was considering whether to believe her or have her committed. Those were the only two options. He would never leave her. He'd only do what he felt was right for her. She knew that.
"I-I'm trying. I have to take a walk, baby. I love you. I will be right back," he said as his lip quivered. Dylan kissed Harris's hand and forehead, then walked out of the room.
Harris could feel the pain radiating from her freshly sewed wounds. The pain was something she was too familiar with. The hurt in her heart she knew just as well. Hopeless. She was hopeless. That was something new. Dylan was the last person she had in the world and he would only be able to put up with so much, she knew. There was nothing left to do. She was destined to live this life, with or without her fiance. Harris let the feeling of hopelessness wash over her and drag her to a deep, drug assisted sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The sign for the chapel led Dylan down a small corridor, out of the way from the rest of the hospital. He hadn't really been to church in a long time, but he didn't know where else to go. If he asked anyone, they would tell him that Harris was crazy and should be committed. Part of him agreed. But, there was a part of him that stood by her side. He had never experienced what Harris had, but there was no reasonable explanation for any of it.
He thought about her family, their mysterious deaths, Becca's death, Harris's injuries over the years. How could she have been attacked more than once, in different states, and no assailant was ever found? How could she have been
attacked by a demon right next to him, and Dylan not even notice? Why would she kill herself? She wanted to get engaged. This was what she wanted. None of it made any sense, no matter which way he looked at it.
Dylan paced outside of the chapel door. Shaking off his nerves, he went in. There was a small altar, a few pews, and Jesus hung from a large cross on the wall in front of the room. Candles were lit around the space. A woman sat silently, praying or sleeping, it was hard to tell. Dylan fought to swallow. He was nervous this wouldn't tell him anything, but he was also nervous it would. He walked to the front and sat in the first pew.
He started a prayer he learned as a child, whispering it under his breath. Then he asked, "what do I do? What is real?" He looked up at the cross. He wasn't sure if spirits were real, or what religion was right, he just knew what he was raised to believe. Feeling desperate, he asked again. "Is Harris crazy? Should I get her help?"
Was he looking for a sign, or a voice in his head, he wasn't sure. "Is Harris haunted by something?"
A rocking noise came from the corner of the chapel. Dylan looked to see a large statue of The Virgin Mary swaying on its base. The sound of concrete grinding on wood stopped as the statue did a full tilt forward and smashed into the ground. Pieces of Mary scattered across the floor as she exploded upon impact.
Dylan jumped from his seat. He looked around, hoping to see the culprit. The praying woman sat undisturbed, her eyes still closed. A hospital security guard came running into the chapel.
"Is everyone okay? What happened?" The guard sputtered, his stance prepared for action.
"The statue just tumbled over. I don't know man. I didn't see anyone," Dylan said, stumbling over his words, still startled.
The guard eyed him up, deciding if he was the culprit or not. He nodded and clicked on his radio. "Just a broken statue. Send janitorial." He looked at the woman in the pew and looked at Dyan, a puzzled expression on his face.
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