A Spiritual Mystery

Someone I Could Rely On - 2

She looked at me and said "who are you?"

I stood there, completely stunned and confused. I mumbled to myself, "She can see me." My words barely escaped my lips as I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened. No one else had ever acknowledged my presence since I had become a spirit. I was used to wandering unnoticed, drifting through the world like a forgotten memory. And yet, here was this girl, looking straight at me like I was just as solid and real as anyone else in the room.

Just then, the doctor walked into the room, his steps soft but precise, the way doctors always seemed to move in these sterile environments. His white coat billowed slightly behind him as he approached the girl, checking her vitals, adjusting the machines beeping softly beside her. "You're awake," he said, his voice calm but filled with a kind of clinical relief. He didn't glance in my direction. In fact, it was as though I didn't exist at all.

I stood frozen in place, still processing the impossible. The doctor unlocked a nearby cabinet, retrieved a box of tablets, and handed one to the girl. She took it mechanically, her fingers trembling slightly as she swallowed it, but her eyes never left me. There was something in her gaze—a mix of fear, confusion, and an odd kind of calm, as if she were trying to understand something that didn't quite fit with her reality.

I could see her chest rise and fall a little faster now, her breathing betraying the uncertainty that her outward calmness was hiding. And then, with a small, almost hesitant movement, she lifted her hand and tried to point at me. My breath—or whatever passed for it—caught in my throat. She was acknowledging me. But before she could speak, the doctor gave her a brief nod and left the room, leaving only silence and the two of us in its wake.

The air felt thick with unspoken questions. She turned back to me, her expression a strange mix of disbelief and curiosity, as if she were trying to decide whether I was real or just a figment of her imagination.

"Hey," I said softly, my voice breaking the quiet, though it felt almost surreal to be talking to someone who could actually hear me. After all this time, I wasn't sure if I still remembered how to properly hold a conversation.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice weak but steady, the kind of voice that could break through the weight of the moment and demand answers.

"Alex," I replied simply, unsure of what else to say. What could I possibly tell her? That I was a lost soul trapped between life and death, wandering aimlessly in search of answers? That seemed too heavy, too soon.

"Why didn't the doctor talk to you?" Her voice wavered slightly, but her eyes remained sharp, filled with the kind of curiosity that wouldn't let go easily.

I hesitated, searching for something plausible, something that wouldn't alarm her. "I don't know," I said, feigning nonchalance. "I guess I'm not a patient, so he didn't mind. You know, doctors have busier jobs than noticing everyone who walks in." I gave a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood, though I felt like I was grasping at straws.

I didn't tell her I was a spirit. I couldn't bring myself to reveal that, not yet. The truth felt too raw, too bizarre to be believed, even by someone who had just survived being hit by a car. But as I stood there, feeling her eyes on me, a flicker of hope ignited within me—small, but undeniable. For the first time in what felt like forever, someone saw me. Maybe, just maybe, she could help me find the answers I had been searching for.

"Anyway," I said, awkwardly shifting the conversation, "what school do you go to?" I needed to keep her talking, to keep this connection alive before it slipped away.

She narrowed her eyes, still unsure of what to make of me. "Why do you want to know that?" Her suspicion was clear, and I didn't blame her. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably feel the same.

"Let's just say... curiosity?" I shrugged, trying to appear casual, though inside, my mind was racing.

"Fine," she said, her tone still cautious. "Woodlem Detective American School."

Her words hit me like a lightning bolt. A detective school? Could this be some strange twist of fate? My mind raced with possibilities. If she was trained in solving mysteries, perhaps she could help me uncover the biggest mystery of all—what had happened to me. I had no memory of how I died, no clue as to why I was trapped in this ethereal existence. But now, standing before me was someone who might just have the skills to solve the puzzle.

"What?" she asked, noticing the intensity of my stare.

I realized I had been mumbling to myself again, lost in thought. Before I could answer, her body suddenly went rigid, and she collapsed onto the bed, her limbs going limp as if life had momentarily slipped away from her. My heart—if I still had one—lurched in panic. What was happening to her? Was she having a seizure, a heart attack? I didn't know, and worse, I didn't know how to help.