haunted

chapter 5: it's been a long day

"Everything."

Leah's throat closes up around the words and her gaze drops to the floor. For the first time since the start of this whole thing, she's not thinking about what's next. She's thinking instead of Jeanette, and how she had been hurting long before they'd ever met.

I never wanted you to see me this way.

Jeanette refused help at every turn, not because she didn't want or need it, but because she was terrified of being abandoned. Shutting people out didn't hurt nearly as much as letting them in, only for them to turn away.

Ms Wolfe was the only person capable of seeing Jeanette in death, and she embraced her spirit with open arms. She was the one person Jeanette had left from her life, and now she was gone. So maybe Jeanette had good reason to shut out people who couldn't care less about her when they'd first met.

Leah's thoughts drift to Ms Wolfe, and why she had allowed Jeanette that school tour despite the risk of the truth coming out.

In hindsight, the reason's glaringly obvious. Because when was the last time Jeanette felt like she was a kid? And not just some fucked up paranormal entity doomed to haunt a reality that she's no longer part of?

Out of the labyrinth of her mind, a hand reaches in, pulling her out and through.

Leah looks up to see Fatin kneeling beside her, holding her fingers away from her face. She'd been seconds away from plucking her eyebrows, and she hadn't even realized it.

Their eyes meet, and Fatin doesn't let go of her hand. "Let's get out of here."

Leah lets Fatin pull her to her feet, and she stumbles until Fatin loops an arm around her waist, steadying her. The exhaustion from the mirror gazing trance is finally hitting her, settling into her bones, and Leah's legs ache with every move she makes.

They shuffle forward a few steps before Leah comes to a sudden stop. Her mind is all over the place right now, and it decides to land on: "The duffel bag-"

"I got it," Fatin interjects. Leah glances over and notices the bag slung over Fatin's shoulder. "Just focus on not face-planting, yeah?"

Leah nods and faces forward. Normally she'd be embarrassed, but she doesn't have the energy right now.

They retrace their steps, winding up at the front door that Fatin tried to kick down not even an hour ago. Their earlier bickering around the house feels so far away. Leah stares numbly ahead, and thinks that maybe Fatin was onto something about wearing granny panties. She feels a hundred years old right now.

Fatin squeezes her waist. "Leah, did you hear me?"

"Mm?" Leah blinks, glancing down at Fatin's hand before meeting her eyes.

Fatin's brow furrows in concern. "Are you good to go home?"

Leah stiffens, and her response is immediate. "No."

Fatin tilts her head. "No?"

"No-" Leah bites her lip. As nice as it would be to fall into bed, sleep is the last thing on her mind right now. "I mean yes. Eventually." She breathes in and out, trying to collect her thoughts. "What I saw... It's a lot to take in. I'm still processing."

Part of her wants to compartmentalize everything. Retreat into herself, pore over each detail, categorize and sort it all into neat boxes. Map out contingency plans and cobble together a semi-coherent idea of what possibly to do next.

The other part of her, the part that's winning, is screaming to let it all out. Her heart aches for Jeanette. She died, so young and so full of life. She died, burdened with the truth, trying to do the right thing. She died, leaving those who loved her mourning in her wake. Death is supposed to be irreversible and final, but Jeanette's passing is anything but that.