I am transitioning into their world more frequently lately and I don’t know why. Something is wrong though. My fiance started to not believe that it was suicide and maybe that hope there has cause my soul to want to help more. I still have not been able to contact anyone, but maybe this time is different.
I’m in the living room of our apartment. He’s sitting on the couch with his head in his hands while my mother sits next to him. I’m not sure what day it is but I think it’s been about two months since my death. The stains on the floor are now covered by a red rug. He refused to move because he was afraid he was going to lose me completely. But he also couldn’t get the stains out and had to cover them up.
“She didn’t kill herself. You’re her mother, you of all people should know that she would never do this,” he mumbles into his hands just loud enough for me to hear.
“Sweetie, there was a note,” my mom says as she puts her hand on his shoulder. “How many times are we going to talk about this? I don’t want to believe it either, but sometimes people hide this stuff from even the most important people in their lives. Why exactly did you call me over here?”
James looks up at her with tear-stained cheeks, “I’ve read through all of her journals. She wrote every day for six or seven years. There hasn’t been a thought that dark in at least five years. She was better. She was happy. She didn’t do this...and I think someone was stalking her.”
“A stalker?” my mom looked horrified, realization of the situation finally kicking in. My heart skipped a few beats. Maybe everything will be okay.
“She wrote about someone followed her the few months before her death.” he said, hopeful that this new information would convince her that he wasn’t crazy. “She didn’t mention it much, but I saw it become more and more frequent the closer it was to that day. She never said anything to me about it and she never really seemed worried about anything. I don’t know why she would hide that from me though.”
I had forgotten about that. I felt like I had been followed home a few times and had written it in my journal. I don’t know why those instances didn’t click with me before. This was planned. This wasn’t some crazy man who just decided on a whim to kill me.
My mom’s face seemed semi-convinced. “How will this prove anything? How do we know for sure? And even if she was being followed, how do we know she didn’t kill herself for another reason entirely? They could be completely unrelated. Maybe she was paranoid and that paranoia got so bad she decided to just make it go away.”
“I just wish I could talk to her so she could tell me what happened. I want to be able to put her soul to rest knowing that justice has been served on whoever did this to her. Or I at least want to know the reason she killed herself, if that was the case. I’m going crazy not knowing. I keep replaying my actions leading to it, to see if it was my fault. Was I not attentive enough to her? Did I say things that tore her down on accident?”
At that moment I felt myself crying and screaming his name. Whenever I transition I beg and plead for him to hear me, but he never does. This time, he looked up.
“What the fuck!” James stood up and started walking towards me. My heart started beating faster, he could see me!
He walked right through me. He didn’t see me, but he heard my voice. I screamed again, but I had no reaction. I screamed and cried until I was forcefully transitioned back to my world.