The Rift Between Us

Chapter One

I wonder if my life would've been different if I hadn't told anyone. If I had left good enough alone and kept my head down.

But I guess when you die in a house fire, it's hard to do that. Even more so when you
come back to life afterward with ghost powers.

                               *       *       *

The fire had been deemed an accident, with the fire chief telling us the cause of the accident was "an unattended candle," but there are no candles in our house; none of us care for them. No one in my family knows what the real reason is, or if someone does know, they haven't said anything about it. Everyone was more excited that I had come back to life in the hospital, after about half an hour of CPR and nurses sending prayers to any medical gods that could help.

            Maybe I should've written down to not resuscitate me, but I don't know if I can at fifteen; that would be up to my parents, and I know damn well they'd never agree to that.

            After the visits from friends and family, hourly check-ups to make sure I haven't died again, and a week of eating grotesque hospital food, I was cleared to go home, whatever that meant for me now. My parents picked me up in welcoming silence and drove me to where they had been staying for the past week, our uncle's house outside the city.

            I looked on in stunned silence as we pulled into the driveway of his quaint cabin. We had never been on speaking terms with our uncle before, something about a falling out when they were younger, and the resentment between them stayed.

            "Uh, Mom, Dad, I thought you didn't like Frederick? Why are we here?" There was a brief pause before they answered.

            "Well, Robin, even though I hate the man, we don't have a place to live, and hotels are expensive. He's been kind enough to let us stay with him until we're back on our feet, so we need to be kind." My dad said, too focused on the road to let any emotion show on his face. My mom stayed silent, lost in her thoughts.

            After my dad parked, we headed towards the front door. There's no luggage to get from the back of the car; anything I would've packed has been burnt to a crisp. The knock rang throughout the house, and after a brief moment, the door opened to reveal my Uncle Frederick, dressed to the nines in a suit and tie, even though it was a Saturday afternoon. He always wants to look his best, just to spite my dad and show off how much more money he has than him. Being a neurosurgeon comes with its perks, I suppose.

            "Robert, Irene, and lovely Robin! I'm so glad to see you all made it here alright." He looked us up and down as if examining the state of our emotions which were all over the place at that moment. We showed the overall exhaustion, especially with me having to wear the same clothes for a week since the rest were gone in the accident. After giving us all a run down, he let us inside and guided us to our rooms. My parents already knew their way around, but still followed along the tour anyway, probably wanting to keep an eye on me.

            We approached a door off from the living room, and I noticed that there was a sign placed on it, reading "Robin's Room," decorated with branches, a slightly larger one seated two robins. I smiled at the kind gesture.

            "Robin, this will be your room." Uncle Frederick opened the door allowing me to look around. There was a queen-sized bed with a change of clothes placed on top of it. The room had a window looking out to a small forest, and a closet holding a few more outfits. A television sat on a dresser alongside a couple of books. The room was bigger than I was used to, and I was grateful for a place to rest that didn't have fluorescent lights on constantly.

            "Thank you, Uncle Frederick. You don't know how much this means to me." I went to give him a hug, but the look on my dad's face showed that I shouldn't do that.

            "Of course. If you would like to take a shower, the bathroom is down the hall across from the kitchen. Towels are under the sink, and you can use the products that are already in there." He turned towards my parents. "You both already know your way around, so I will spare you the extra tour. Go ahead and relax, you all deserve it after what you've been through." My parents both sighed, whispering silent thank you's before turning towards the hallway to go to their room, my uncle following suit.

            I decided to take Uncle Frederick up on his offer to shower and grabbed the clothes off the bed before I headed to the bathroom. The showers in the hospital didn't have hot water frequently, and I was looking forward to being able to bathe without a nurse constantly checking in to make sure I hadn't passed out, or worse.

            Locking the door behind me, I placed the change of clothes on top of the toilet seat and went to open the cabinet underneath the sink. The towels looked much comfier than any of the ones in the emergency room; those were scratchy and barely got any water off. I moved to pick up a towel but couldn't seem to grab a hold of it. Trying again, I went to pick one up, but it seemed like my hand was going past it instead of on it.

            "What the hell?" I muttered to myself, reaching for it a third time. I moved slowly trying to see if I could find where the issue lay, and that's when I saw it.

            My hand was, in fact, going through the towel.

At first, I had chalked it up to sleep deprivation, as the lights and chronic beeping of the heart monitor had made it hard to rest, but I kept staring, moving my hands throughout the towel, trying to make my brain snap back to reality. However, my hand stayed within the confines of cotton and wool, no matter how much I willed it to change.

I pulled my hand back out and stared at it, first to make sure it was there, and if it was, figure out what was wrong with it. As I examined it, I noticed nothing different. All my fingers were still the same, exceedingly pale per usual, and my hand was still intact. I tried one more time to reach for the towel, and I grabbed it with ease.

"I think the fire caused some brain damage" I muttered before turning on the hot water, allowing myself a moment to relax after a week of hell. Even with the calming aura of the shower, I couldn't get the image of my hand inside the stack of towels out of my head. It could have been my brain playing tricks, but it had looked too real to be something my sleep-deprived head came up with.

After thoroughly scrubbing the scent of medical equipment and fire damage away, I climbed out of the shower and dried myself off, grabbing the towel successfully the first time. I put on my replacement outfit, a plain blue t-shirt and black pajama shorts, and made my way back to my room to sleep away the past week.