I wake up to the Ashvale News channel playing on the T.V mounted on the wall across from my bed, but it’s just commercials. My mom isn’t here now. After I’d reassured her I was fine, she had to go back to work. And I fell asleep. That’s right…

My mind is all fuzzy, and all the lights seem to glow. I feel weaker than I did earlier.

“Good morning, sunshine.” There’s a nurse in the room, the one called Nancy, and she’s taking vitals or whatever those people do. I wish my mom could be my nurse. Or Martha. Nancy is new too, I think.

“Is it morning?” Sunday morning? Last I remember it was early Saturday evening.

“Sure is, you slept a long time. Feel any better?”

“Actually, I feel worse.”

She nods. “That can happen if you have a lot of adrenalin after an accident like yours. I bet you’re really feeling it now, eh?”

I struggle to laugh. “Yeah.” Accident. Riiight. Is that what they’re calling it?

“Don’t worry though, sweetie. The worst is over.”

Somehow, I’m not so sure of that.

“All you need to do now is rest. Get lots of sleep, and you’ll be home in no time!”

“Awesome.” I try to match her enthusiasm but fail. It comes out as sarcastic so I quickly ask, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure you can!” God this nurse is perky.

“It’s about the doctor, from before?”

“Doctor Ringleson?”

Ringleson? Really? What kind of name is…oh, whatever, of course that’s the Ice Doctor’s name. “Yeah, um, do you think it would be possible to get a different doctor?” I bite my lip.

“What, you don’t like him?” She looks confused. Almost insulted. Crap.

“Um no, it’s not that. I just, uh…” Think, Kara, think! “I was wondering if I could get a woman.” Understanding dawns of Nancy’s face. “Like, a female doctor?”

“Of course.” She draws out the words for almost five syllables. “If that would make you more comfortable, I’ll see what we can do.” She then gives me a big smile and leaves.

Whew.

“Here is a replay of last night’s Breaking News report!”

The commercials are over, so I turn my attention back to the TV. They’re doing a rerun which rarely happens because they only do that when something interesting occurs. And this is Ashvale.

And whaddayaknow, Limbo Kid’s picture is on the screen.

I stare at his photo. He’s got that big, lop-sided grin, his sports jersey on, green and white for the Forest Heights School, and a flutter board under his arm. He looks like a happy kid. A kid with dreams. Rodney was excited for high school, and college, seeing his dad at the swim meet...

I came back, but he…

“Police have revealed the identity of the boy found this afternoon as one Rodney Romano. A student at Forest Heights Junior High School, and a prominent member of the Forest Heights swim team, his body was found behind the bleachers of the school’s pool just after 3PM. He was found by his instructor who had come to set up for their scheduled practice. According to the mortician at the scene, the body had been dead for approximately three hours before he was found. More information is still being gathered. Why he was at the pool outside of practice hours is unknown.”

They start with a quick recap for anyone who may have missed the earlier segment, then they start playing the old footage. Why was Rodney there early, anyway? Was he lured there?

“The cause of death is reportedly a gunshot to the head. It has been ruled a homicide by the APD. This is also the first shooting death in Ashvale in five years. Anyone with any information is asked to call the number on the screen.”

“Our APD Correspondent, Fiona Voigt, is on the scene with Instructor Javier. We’ll go to her now.”

“Thanks, John. Mr. Javier, it’s our understanding that you were the one who found the body, is that correct?”

“Yes, uh, I found him when I was setting up the bleachers. They have these locks to keep them in place when they aren’t being used so uh that’s why I went back there and uh, that’s when I saw that someone was lying there.”

The poor man is gripping his baseball cap tightly. He’s a large man with a kind face, not anything like our Coach Warren. He’s thin and stiff as a rod. And not kind. This guy keeps nervously looking to the left of the reporter, obviously at someone who is out of view of the cameras. Is he taking cues from someone?

“You didn’t know he was dead at first?”

“No, I uh, he was faced away from me. When I went and tried to wake him, I uh, I saw the blood and the uh, the gunshot there to the head.”

He loosens his grip on his hat for a moment to point at his forehead, and then goes back to crumpling it.

“At which point you called 911?”

“Yes I took my cell out and called straight away. I recognized him right away and I could tell he was dead.”

“Mr. Javier do you have any medical experience?”

“I’ve got my First Aid. We all need that in the school. All the staff. I checked his neck for a pulse while getting connected. Like I figured, there was nothing there. His eyes…they were blank.”

And this poor man’s eyes look haunted. What a thing, to find a body like that… a child’s body. A child he knew and trained. Jesus. What a world.

“Do you have any idea why he would be in the school on a Saturday, at a time when practice wasn’t scheduled?”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t even know how he got in there in the first place. When I got there the door was still locked. I had to open it up. Nothing looked out of place.”

“I see. Is it also true that no bullet or casing has been found?”

“That’s what I heard, yes.”

“You didn’t see one at the time?”

“No, I uh…I mean I wasn’t looking for anything like that, I wasn’t thinking of anything else. But no.”

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“I understand. We appreciate you answering our difficult questions today. As the first shooting in our fair city in such a long time, the public is concerned.”

“If anything I say can help bring his murderer to justice I don’t mind, uh, I don’t mind answering any questions.”

Oh? Was that a hint of anger? Seems he didn’t like that last cue card or whatever’s going on behind the scenes here. The haunted look has passed, now there is only determination. A stubbornness. Resistance. I know that look very well.

“Thank-You Mr. Javier. And how will you and your team deal with the sudden death of one of your own?”

“It uh, it will be hard to say the least. I need to call all the parents and explain. That will be hard. We’ll carry on, in his name, for sure. Rodney was a boy with a strong sense of responsibility. He always did the right thing, even when it was tough. We’ll continue moving forward with that same spirit. We won’t let that die.”

He stopped looking at the mysterious left side cue giver for that last bit. Go Javier, you tell ‘em! Rodney really was great. I wouldn’t have made it back without him. Without knowing the stuff he told me, I’d have easily been caught by that Advisor’s assistant. I’d be dead.

Yeah, fuck Stupid Boy and Clifford. They don’t get any credit for cleaning up their own mess. Rodney saved me. I wish there was something I could do to repay him. What do dead people like, anyway? Hah… I should worry about myself first, I guess.

Huh? Wait, what was that?

“Mr. Javier, thank-you for speaking with us.”

“You’re welcome.”

That’s when I see it. In the moment before the camera goes back to the newsroom, I see it on the wall: a shadow with no person. A shadow slipping out of the gym door and running along the wall. Running away from the crime scene. It’s such a fleeting glimpse that for a moment I think I must have missed it, surely there had been a person there, perhaps just out of range of the camera?

But no, the light angle is all wrong. Everyone else’s shadows were falling to the left; the wall was to the right. There should not have been a shadow on that wall at all. And yet there had been. And the way it had moved…it was alive.

A living shadow? Like Peter Pan? Now I’ve seen everything. Turns out those Shadow Spirit thingies that Fintan mentioned can be actual, literal, shadows. That’s good to know. Wonder what other kooky things exist.

“Thanks for watching last night’s report. At this point the Ashvale Police Department still have no clear leads to follow in this investigation, and so they have asked anyone who may have information on what transpired yesterday to please step forward.”

“We understand that incidents like this are, thankfully, rare here in Ashvale. We ask that everyone remain calm while the investigation is underway. I just know our officers will bring those responsible to justice.”

I stifle a laugh. Justice, right. The APD are all corrupt coyote rearing weirdos. This is some kinda dirty politics thing, isn’t it? Limbo Kid said he hadn’t told me everything, and he also implied he was caught in the middle of something, and his coach was saying how he was responsible and always doing good stuff. Yeah, this whole thing reeks. Rather than justice, whoever did this is gonna cover it up hardcore. Even Rodney knew it, he even said he doubted his friend would be caught. That proves how big this is.

No, if Rodney is going to get his justice, then it will be with my help. He stood in front of that Siren for me. Who knows how that ended. He told me about the Spirit Chamber. If I hadn’t known about that I wouldn’t even be here. I owe him. This is what I can do for him. I can make sure he rests easy. No regrets.

I clutch the remote. Without realizing it I had moved to the foot of the bed, soaking in all the information I could on my dead…friend? No, I mean I didn’t even know him. Death companion? Well, that’s just weird.

I don’t know what he is to me. But he is important. And that’s what angers me most. I have information. I even know, in a sense, who the killer is. But I can’t say anything. No one would believe me. Even if they did, who knows whose side they’re on. They probably wouldn’t do anything even if I told them.

All I have is a murderous friend with no name and a shadow with no person. They would think I just had a weird dream, and that’s the best-case scenario. I’ll have to be sneaky about this. Yes, this requires a plan. A good and intricate plan. Fuck, I miss my Wall of Conspiracy. I don’t have anything to work with in this dump.

“It’s such a terrible thing, he was so young.”

“Yes, it sure is sad, John. Our hearts go out to the young man’s parents. In honour of his life a silent vigil has been arranged by the school for Monday night. Parents should also be aware that counselling is being arranged for all students needing help coping during this tragic time.”

“In other news, the girl who was mysteriously attacked yesterday appears to now be in stable condition-”

Alrighty time to turn the television off. I have no interest in hearing some sensationalized mention of my ‘accident.’

It’s right then my hand hurts and I realize I was holding the remote so tightly my IV got tugged out of my hand when I moved so close to the TV. My firm grip has caused my hand to bleed a little from the spot the needle had been.

In a daze I take the needle off the floor, thankfully still connected to the IV machine, and try to put it back into my hand, but it’s not as easy as the nurses make it look. After three tries my hand is bloody and all I’ve succeeded in doing is popping one of the veins.

“Good graces, Kara! What are you doing?”

And just my luck, that’s when Nancy happens to come by with my apple juice.

Fuck. What was I just doing? Maybe my loved ones are right too, sometimes. I should stop getting so stuck in my head.

Sigh.

She calls in reinforcements and they take my hand and replace the needle themselves in about five seconds. Making me look like an idiot.

They don’t believe me when I tell them it had fallen out by accident when I was watching TV. They don’t believe me when I tell them I was just trying to put the needle back in.

Apparently, I’m a danger to myself and need hourly observation for the next 48 hours.

No one ever believes me about anything anymore. Looks like I won’t be getting any privacy in this place at all.

~*~

The drugs they have me on make it easy to sleep, but not so easy to wake up.

The nurses come and wake me to check on me every hour, on the hour, but thankfully for that first day I barely notice. I’m much more interested in getting back to sleep because I’ve been having the strangest dreams.

Well, I mean a different kind of strange compared to literally every other dream I’ve ever had. Since, you know, I’ve only been dreaming less than two years and most of those involved a mind-controlling cougar. A cougar that might be my Shadow. So yeah, not exactly your typical dreams. And neither are these.

I know they’re not just dreams, but real experiences, like I had when I was dying, if indeed those were even real. Fintan called the place we were in my Dreamworld, or my mind. So, it’s a very real place, but not… tangible from the outside? I don’t know enough to be sure. I just know that these dreams aren’t the same as when I was in that place. In a sense, these aren’t as real. They’re just not the same.

Now that I’m back in reality it’s hard to believe all that crazy shit really happened. But before with Limbo and the dream beach, it was like I was there. Physically present.

No, these dreams are more like visions. They’re real but I feel disconnected from them, like I’m not there, I’m just observing them. That’s the best I can explain it.

They’re not at all interactive, but not for a lack of trying. Fintan is always in them, and always the same. Plastic, shiny, and white, and trying to explain something.

At least I think he is. His hand movements are like Mr. Teurney’s when he was trying to explain metaphysics in Social Studies class, and no one understood a damn word except for Ethan. But that kid understands everything.

Fintan is pointing to something in the distance, but everything other than Fintan is pitch black. What are you trying to show me? What are you trying to say?

It’s frustrating.

He’s talking, but I can’t hear anything. It’s like there’s a soundproof wall between us I can’t see. When I try to speak out, he cups his hands around his ear and frowns. He can’t hear me either.

His movements get more and more erratic with every dream as he gets more and more frustrated, just like Mr. Teurney did. He ended up throwing his computer at the window and took sick leave for three days. When he got back Ethan had already rebuilt the thing.

Che, brown-noser.

Fintan just looks sad. Or maybe scared. I’m never there long enough to tell.

I know each time I must be there for at least a half hour, sometimes more, but our entire quote ‘conversation’ end quote takes only a few minutes. Then I’m awoken for my hourly check-up.

It’s like time moves slower there.

These dreams fill me with a sense of dread, and yet every time they wake me up all I want to do is get back there. It was easy enough on the drowsy pills, but this morning, Monday morning, they’ve switched me onto something else and I’m not as sluggish.

They lowered my pain med dosages too, and I begin feeling sore around my neck. And now, after my needle fiasco, known thereafter as ‘the needle incident,’ in the nursing gossip circles, both my hands are bandaged and both sting.

They ended up wrapping my hand over the needle like a boxing glove so that I wouldn’t ‘try to take it out again.’

THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED.

Breathe, Kara. Breathe… hoo…

Gossipy bitches.

Urgh. Now I can’t hold onto things very well, what with one hand ready for the WBA and the other still on a splint.

The nurses give my splinted hand the side eye, especially whenever they check under the bandage every few hours. It’s been hurting more as time goes on, which is kind of backwards, right?

When I asked Rachel about it, she said it was just confusing how slowly it was healing.

But she pursed her lips and the air around her was…nervous. So, I know that was bullshit. There’s something wrong with my hand. David fucked up. Again. I’m gonna kill that bastard. And his fluffy friend.

I’ve been getting better at noticing the emotions around me. It’s become a little overwhelming, considering there doesn’t seem to be an off switch. I really want to see what’s been freaking out the nurses about my wound, and I’d check under it myself but after the needle incident I don’t think that’s very wise.

I’ve already been put on a 48-hour watch. They won’t even let my mom, or my friends visit, and I really want to see my mom. My so-called friends can fuck off. Except maybe Chayla. I’d be interested in hearing her out of she decides to go off her script. That might be possible now.

One more day…

Suffice it to say, I’m currently bored out of my mind.

Without being able to sleep at will, I can’t visit Fintan, and I’m stuck watching cartoons. My only consolation is that 1: I’m watching cartoons while all my friends are at school. And 2: if no one can visit me, it means he can’t visit me either.

And by he I obviously mean the terrifying man I heard in the ambulance.

Despite the growing terror inside me thanks to my male alter-ego replacement soul, up to this point I’ve felt relived. But this is me we’re talking about, so my relief doesn’t last long.

Because I am the embodiment of Murphy’s Law.