Status: Complete - February 22, 2018
Haunting Grey
Nine
"That's impossible," I say as his words penetrate my brain. "Natalie's dead. You told me so yourself, don't you remember?"
My father looks at me, and his whole face crumbles a bit. "It was her, Grey. I know her voice. She was at the house for years and I—"
"Dad," I reply, reaching my hand out. "Don't do this."
"She told me where to find you," he tells me quietly. "She told me that you were playing together and you fell and hit your head. When I found you, I thought you were dead."
I reach up and touch my head, wincing. It's heavily bandaged.
Why didn't I notice that before?
Because you were too busy talking to a ghost, a voice says. Your best friend is dead, Grey. Don't you want to know what happened?
"Yes," I say, but then clamp my mouth shut.
My father is watching me.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "I'm tired. I should sleep."
He nods and stands, and once he's gone, my eye flit to the window. Natalie's there, sitting on the sill, frowning at me.
"You didn't have to send him away," she murmurs. "I wanted to thank him for finding you. I didn't know what to say when I called."
Ghosts can't use phones, I reason with myself. You're having a breakdown; you're hallucinating. She's not here. She's still in the woods somewhere, half her face crushed in. Or maybe she's at the morgue now.
"It was you. But how?"
She shrugs and comes toward me, blinks one eye at me. "I don't know. All I know was I needed to get in touch with your father, to tell him where you were. So I concentrated and then I was able to talk to him."
"Natalie." My voice is calm, but I don't know how to say this without panicking her. "You remember what I said to you, before my dad came in?"
She shakes her head. "What did you want to tell me, Grey?"
"You aren't here anymore," I reply vaguely.
She laughs. "Of course I am. I'm standing right here. I left when your dad came by, you know, to give you space."
"No, Nat," I say firmly. "I mean you're dead. You died in the woods."
"Oh, Grey." She sounds so sad. "I wish you could understand."
"Understand what?" I ask.
"I can't," she says weakly. "Not now. It's not time yet."
My father looks at me, and his whole face crumbles a bit. "It was her, Grey. I know her voice. She was at the house for years and I—"
"Dad," I reply, reaching my hand out. "Don't do this."
"She told me where to find you," he tells me quietly. "She told me that you were playing together and you fell and hit your head. When I found you, I thought you were dead."
I reach up and touch my head, wincing. It's heavily bandaged.
Why didn't I notice that before?
Because you were too busy talking to a ghost, a voice says. Your best friend is dead, Grey. Don't you want to know what happened?
"Yes," I say, but then clamp my mouth shut.
My father is watching me.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "I'm tired. I should sleep."
He nods and stands, and once he's gone, my eye flit to the window. Natalie's there, sitting on the sill, frowning at me.
"You didn't have to send him away," she murmurs. "I wanted to thank him for finding you. I didn't know what to say when I called."
Ghosts can't use phones, I reason with myself. You're having a breakdown; you're hallucinating. She's not here. She's still in the woods somewhere, half her face crushed in. Or maybe she's at the morgue now.
"It was you. But how?"
She shrugs and comes toward me, blinks one eye at me. "I don't know. All I know was I needed to get in touch with your father, to tell him where you were. So I concentrated and then I was able to talk to him."
"Natalie." My voice is calm, but I don't know how to say this without panicking her. "You remember what I said to you, before my dad came in?"
She shakes her head. "What did you want to tell me, Grey?"
"You aren't here anymore," I reply vaguely.
She laughs. "Of course I am. I'm standing right here. I left when your dad came by, you know, to give you space."
"No, Nat," I say firmly. "I mean you're dead. You died in the woods."
"Oh, Grey." She sounds so sad. "I wish you could understand."
"Understand what?" I ask.
"I can't," she says weakly. "Not now. It's not time yet."