[Not Just Any Other] Ghost Story

Chapter 24

She'd slept for three days straight, so it was no surprise that Sarah was now wide awake. With the rest of the patients likely quietly tucked into their beds and the late-shift nurses catching up on paperwork at their stations, she was left to entertain herself. But even though it was almost midnight, the thought of spending another minute numbing her rear-end on the rock hard mattress made her grab the rolling IV pole and head out to explore.

If possible, the hallway was even colder than her room, so she wrapped her free arm around her waist. It didn't really give her any added warmth, but at least it helped keep the hospital-issued gown from flapping all over as she shuffled along in her grippy socks.

She didn't like being there, and it was extra weird being in the same hospital where Caleb had been a few weeks earlier. She might even have been on the same floor. But she didn't want to think about that. Or him.

Sarah continued down the hallway, peeking into rooms where the doors happened to still be open. Yet even in the few that were, the people inside were either clearly asleep or shielded from view by privacy curtains. Although her plan to wander had been sound, it wasn't quite working out the way she had hoped.

Until she got to the end of the hall and turned right.

Just out of view of the nearest nurse's desk, Sarah found a room that was not only open, but its occupant was also awake. Thumbing through a paperback, the woman who was in her mid- to late twenties looked to be just passing the time more than anything else.

"Mind if I come in?" Sarah asked as she peeked in.

The woman looked up from her book and smiled. "Sure thing, doll. I'd be happy to have some company."

Sarah wheeled her IV pole through the door before shutting it behind her. Although she got permission, for some reason it still felt like she was somewhere she shouldn't be. But she wasn't hurting anyone, right? So she slowly made her way to the bedside and pulled up a chair.

"Thank you," she said as she plopped onto the hard cushion. When her gaze landed back on the smiling woman's face, she hesitated.

The woman's cheeks reddened and she glanced away. "I . . . I fell down the stairs, you see," she muttered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Always been clumsy."

At first, Sarah was confused by the reaction, but then it hit her. "Oh, no! I wasn't staring at that," she said apologetically, trying now her best to avoid looking at the scuffs and bruises on the pretty face across from her. But it was the same as when someone said the word elephant and then asked you to think of an animal. Of course the first thing that would come to mind was an elephant!

"The reason you're in here is your business," Sarah added, trying to steer the conversation away from something that would definitely be unpleasant, especially since that was the truth. "I spaced out because I feel like I've seen you before I just can't remember where."

The woman sighed with relief. "Oh, that's sweet of you. I'm sure I just have one of those faces . . .," she said, trailing off before innocently tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. The move was subtle, but the shy—almost apprehensive—reaction was enough to trigger a memory.

"The pavilion in the square!" Sarah burst out, recalling where she'd seen that look before. Although the woman's hair was now down in loose waves falling onto her shoulders and she wore no make-up, it was undeniably her. "You were in a polka dot dress possibly waiting for someone."

The woman held one hand in the other and nervously squeezed her fingers. "Perhaps. I've been to the pavilion, but I'm afraid that I don't remember you."

Sarah shrugged. "No worries. I didn't expect you to," she said as disappointment filled her. Jane had been her only real visitor—Officer Quinn didn't count since they had to come for their job—so having someone else there who knew and maybe even cared about her existence would have been nice. But apparently that was too much to ask.

"Are you okay, honey?" asked the woman, noticing that something was amiss.

Sarah forced a smile. "Yeah. My vitals are all back to normal and it looks like I might go home tomorrow."

"No, I mean are you really okay?" she asked again, emphasizing the last two words.

Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes. "You know, no one has asked me that," she said with a sniffle. "I've been told what has happened to me—what he supposedly did to me—but I guess I'm just expected to accept it and move on."

"I'm so sorry. That sounds awful," said the woman, reaching out but then suddenly pulling back her hand before she got close enough to touch Sarah's arm.

Sarah sniffed again. "The worst part is that it's all my fault. If I hadn't been stupid enough to believe that the most popular guy in school for real liked me, then I wouldn't even have been there with him that night."

"You know, we've all made choices that we later regret, but that doesn't mean that they were the wrong choices to make at the time," the woman said, looking past Sarah as if lost in thought. Turning her head to meet her eyes, she continued. "And we're never, ever, ever responsible for anyone else's actions, no matter what they'll tell you."

The conviction in her voice made Sarah shudder. But while the words rang true, she just couldn't accept them.

"Maybe you're right and maybe you're wrong. I honestly don't even know if I want to remember what happened because at least this way, I could try to convince myself that I didn't want it," she said with a sigh. "But then that would mean that he . . . and I don't want that to be true, either."

She got up from the chair, unable to continue the conversation. "Listen. I really appreciate the talk. And I hope you get out of here soon and don't fall down any more stairs," she said, trying to hint at knowing what that excuse truly covered without coming out and straight up saying it. "And don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I always am."

Sarah turned to leave.

"Make him pay," whispered the woman.

Sarah froze mid-step just as the door in front of her swung open.

"There you are!" exclaimed the nurse, relief washing over her expression. "I thought you might have gone to stretch your legs, but I didn't expect to find you in here."

"Yeah, sorry about that. She did say it was okay though," Sarah muttered, pivoting toward the room to expect the friendly face to confirm her innocence. But the bed was empty. Worse yet, the taut sheets and un-dented pillow showed that there had been no one there at all.

"Who?" asked the nurse, peering past her.

What the hell? Was she going mad? Had she imagined the whole thing? But why that woman and why now?

She'd been so real. It didn't make any sense. Unless . . ..

It had to be all connected.

The window at Jane's moving by itself and the writing in the mirror. The chase in Bedlam Woods after her phone, then discovering the body in the Black house walls. Finding the right piece of paper out of thousands at the last moment in the archives to give her a name. And now having a full-blown conversation with someone who wasn't even there.

Mabel—Jane's ghost-in-residence.

She was the woman in the pavilion. She was the woman in the hospital bed. She was the woman behind the mantle. And she was angry.

Sarah's breathing accelerated and she felt sick to her stomach. "Never mind. Can you help me back, please? I don't feel too good."