Agatha

CHAPTER THREE

"Izzy, are you okay? You seem distant."

"Huh?" Isabelle snapped back to reality. She stared at her mother, who had paused halfway serving a cup of coffee to look at her daughter concerned. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Because ever since I found you in the bathroom last night, you've barely said a word."

Her sister's reflection only occupied the mirror for a couple of seconds, then was gone so quickly Isabelle would've said she had imagined it all if she didn't know better. Her mother had come into the bathroom an hour later to find Isabelle standing motionless in front of the mirror, staring daggers into her own eyes.

"Yes, Mom, I'm sure. Can we go back to eating now?" Isabelle asked, annoyed. It was the morning after, and her family was having breakfast, but Isabelle had never had less of an appetite. All she could think about was Agatha, Agatha, Agatha. And then some more.

"Alright, alright," Her mother replied, lifting her hands in surrender as she returned to pouring coffee.

Isabelle stayed quiet for a good ten minutes, lost in her own thoughts until she spoke up. "Do you believe in haunting?"

All other conversations died down, and her family turned to stare at her. Even little Thomas, who was too young to know what it meant and would never be quiet, took his eyes off his wooden toy truck and didn't say a word.

"What do you mean?'" asked her father, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a confused smile.

"Do you believe some people come back from the dead to haunt other people?"

"Of course not," answered her father, who was a history professor and would never believe in such unproven nonsense. "That's just foolish." 

"I don't know," piped up fourteen-year-old Lindsey. "Sounds pretty legit to me. I mean, if something were to happen that prevented the ghost to proceed to the afterlife or whatever, it's fully possible that they would stay and haunt the person responsible."

The person responsible.

"That sounds cool," grinned Alice, who had just turned eight and thought everything was 'cool'. "I wanna be a ghost when I die. Maybe I can haunt you guys. If you'd let me."

"Why do you ask, Iz?" asked her mother, the concerned look taking over her facial features once more.

"No reason," Isabelle replied and proceeded to shove a mouthful of salad into her mouth.