Proposal: A Mediator Novella (Volume 6.5)

Tres

Mark shook off the hand I'd placed on his shoulder, his gaze wild.

"What?" he cried, appalled. "No! That's what people think, that I killed her? But that isn't what happened at all. I would never hurt Jasmin!"

"Sure," I said, in my most soothing tone.

As a psych major—did I mention that I'm in school, too? Not medical school, like Jesse. I'm still only an undergrad.

But I'm majoring in psychology. And after graduation, I'm going for a master's in counseling. I want to help kids like I was, kids who have secrets they feel like they can't tell anyone. Since I was one of those kids, I'll know how to recognize them, and hopefully be able to help them.

Well, except the ones I'm too late to help, like Jasmin. And Mark.

"Look," I said to him, as he continued to stare at me in disbelief. Sometimes it takes a while for it to sink in to spirits, especially young ones, that they're dead, and how they died—even when they're the ones responsible for said death. "What's done is done. You can't go back and change it. You can only move forward. Jasmin has, which is why she isn't here. And now it's time for you to move forward, too, Mark."

"M-move forward?" He looked confused.

"Yes. To your next life, the afterlife, heaven, hell, whatever." I didn't want to get too technical about it because I don't really know where spirits go after I encourage them to step into the light. All I have to do is get them there. "You can't hang around here, though, taking out your anger issues on Jasmin's grave. That isn't healthy for anyone, especially you."

"I'm not talking about anyone. I'm talking about that asshole Zack Farhat. He keeps coming and putting flowers on Jasmin's grave, which isn't right, because—"

"Sure," I said, still using my fake soothing tone. "The thing is, Mark, the sooner you start letting things like this Zack guy go, the sooner you can be with her."

I was completely lying. I didn't think for one minute that Mark was going to get to be with Jasmin in his next life—or wherever he was going—after what he'd done to her. But lying to him seemed like the quickest way to get the job over with. "It doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes, it does," he said. "It does matter. Why do you keep saying it doesn't matter? And why do you keep saying I killed Jasmin. I didn't."

The temperature had begun to drop—which was odd, since I'd checked the weather on my phone before coming out, and it had said we were in for a warm front. This should have been my first clue, but I missed it. Of course I missed it. I was so angry over what he'd done, I'd let my emotions cloud my common sense.

"I'm saying those things don't matter, Mark. They don't because you and Jasmin are dead. You both died instantly when you slammed your car into the side of that cliff out by Rocky Creek Bridge last week. Remember? You should. You were the one who was driving."

It was at that exact moment that the wind picked up, and the fog began to swirl around us, along with some of the stray petals from the floral arrangement Mark had destroyed.

But even then, I didn't realize what was going on.

"That isn't how it happened at all!" Mark thundered. "I would never do that! I would never hurt Jasmin. I told you, I loved her!"

"Yeah, we all know how much you loved her, Mark." I can't believe I didn't pick up on the signals then. But he'd really pissed me off. Murderers have a tendency to do that. "I know you proposed in the restaurant—all the servers saw you get down on one knee and present her with your grandmother's ring. They said it was incredibly sweet. But in the car, something happened, didn't it? It must have, because no one could find the ring in the wreckage. It wasn't on Jasmin's finger, and it wasn't in its velvet box anymore, either. What happened to it, Mark? Did you two have a fight coming home? Did she change her mind, and toss it out the window? Is that why you slammed your car into that cliff?"