Linger | ✔️

Part 2

"Please help me," the apparition had said.

The sound of her words spiraled over and over. Somehow, Rose knew I was a sensitive. It was a secret I never told anyone. Ever. I didn't want my friends or family to think I was a freak. But she could sense it. I suppose all of the spirits could, that must be why they visit. But what bothered me most was that this ghost thought I could help her.

A sickening sensation grew in the pit of my stomach, and I fought back the urge to throw up my lunch. Why me? What had I ever done to deserve this kind of torture? No one understood what I went through on a daily basis, how frightening life could be at times. The uncertainty of when the next specter would manifest. Never knowing if it would look like a normal person, or if it'd appear the way I imagined they had looked the moment they'd passed on. At least this spirit seemed normal, not scorched like the legend told.

The uneasy feeling stayed with me the rest of the day and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I couldn't stop thinking about Rose Marie Foster. Just the thought of her taking her last breath within the walls of the high school, and for whatever reason found herself unable to move on, tugged at my conscience. She obviously had some kind of message; why else would she have sought me out? Was it my responsibility as a sensitive to listen to what she had to say?

Maybe I should try to talk to her? Only, I wasn't sure I could. All my life I had been running away from communicating with the dead, the thought of actually speaking with one shook me to my core. On the other hand, I couldn't deny my growing curiosity.

When the final bell rung for the day, I waited next to my locker until the hallways were empty. If I was going to go back into that restroom, I had to do it alone. There couldn't be an audience. Not only was I afraid people would think I was nuts -- and the last thing I needed was for rumors to circulate that the new girl needed a straight jacket -- I was pretty sure the ghost would only appear if I was by myself. Sighing heavily, I climbed the staircase to the third floor, wondering if Rose could sense my plan. I walked down the long corridor and paused outside of the restroom entrance as a cool breeze circled around me.

She was in there waiting. I could feel it.

As I edged closer to the door, an uncomfortable prickle crept up the back of my neck. Biting my lip, my eyes darted around before I made up my mind to walk inside.

"Chloe?"

The sound of my name made me jump. I turned around to see Mr. Snell, my biology teacher, standing in the hallway staring after me.

"You seemed a little distracted in class today," he began, running a hand over his hair. "Is everything okay?" He was tall and lanky, with only a limited number of light brown strands left on top of his head. They were carefully arranged to one side in a sad attempt to cover a growing bald spot.

I forced a smile, careful to look him square in the eye. I'd never been very good at lying, and hoped that by making eye contact now my dishonesty would appear believable. "Everything's fine, Mr. Snell. I ... uh ... just haven't been sleeping well lately. New bedroom and all." I shrugged it off, and prayed my feeble excuse was enough to send him on his way.

He studied me for a long moment, his gaze skeptical. "If you ever need to talk, I'm always here. I have an open door policy. You know that, right?"

"Open door policy." I nodded rapidly. "Got it."

Finally, the teacher relented. He turned on his heel and continued down the hall.

Waiting until he was well out of earshot, my gaze made it's way back to the doorway of the restroom. I adjusted my backpack and forced myself forward, gradually stepping inside.