Psycho #OpenNovellaContest

Chapter 8

The first thing Alya notices is the smell. Rotten and disgusting, like burning hair, it wafts through the air. She wrinkles her nose against the smell, but can't seem to get rid of it entirely.

"Are you okay?" 

A bolt of pain shoots through her head. She tries to lift her hand to her forehead, but her arm seems paralyzed. She gulps and her eyes fly open. A wave of dizziness rushes through her and she immediately squeezes them shut again. 

"Alya?" says a soft voice. "Are you all right?"

Alya tentatively opens her eyes again. Her vision wavers a moment, then focuses. She's lying in soft green grass looking up at a paper white sky.

A blond woman leans over her. "Alya?"

Alya flinches a little. "Lizzie?"

The woman's face contorts in confusion. "No, Alya. Lizzie's dead."

Lizzie's dead.

"But... But you're Lizzie. I'm the reason you're dead!"

The woman's face twists in concern. "Lizzie is dead. We're at her funeral."

Lizzie is dead.

She reaches her hand out to Alya. Alya takes it and pulls herself up, swaying slightly as she regains her balance.

"What do you think happened?" the woman says.

"I- I don't know," Alya says. Obviously the woman wasn't aware of what she had just seen. Had she just been hallucinating?

"I think you had some sort of panic attack. I tried to calm you down, but you passed out," the woman says. "Are you feeling okay? The grass might have cushioned your fall a little, but I think you still took a nasty hit to the head-"

"I'm fine," Alya says. She hesitates, then adds, "I'm not hurt."

The woman looks unconvinced, but nods. "You should drink some water." She grabs Alya's hand and pulls her over to the reception area of the funeral.

Alya glances around. "Is the funeral over?"

"After you passed out, the preacher left and we all moved to the reception tables. Oh, and Raymundo left too. I knew he only wanted to get a good story out of this tragedy."

"Yeah..." Alya says absentmindedly. She pours herself a glass of water from a pitcher and sips at it lightly.

"Ah, I've got to go!" the woman says suddenly. Alya notices her phone clutched in her left hand. "It was really nice meeting you, Alya. And if you ever want to talk..." She presses a small piece of paper into Alya's hand. "Call me."

"I will," Alya says, staring down at the small piece of paper until the numbers are burned into her eyes. By the time she looks up again, the woman is gone.

Alya stands alone next to the long table, holding the glass of water with strained knuckles. She doesn't blame the other people; she wouldn't want to stand next to her either after her outburst. Still, she can't help the feeling that she's being watched.

"What was that for?" An angry voice startles her out of her thoughts. James. "I know you're mad at me, but did you have to make a scene at Lizzie's funeral?"

Alya scowls. "I'm not mad at you, James."

"Then why-"

"Maybe you should mind your own damn business for once." Alya takes a deep breath. "I didn't want to interrupt Lizzie's funeral."

"Then why did you? Tell me Alya, why did you scream bloody murder for absolutely no reason at all-"

"It wasn't-"

"At a damn funeral?"

"I don't scream bloody murder for no reason, James," Alya says. "And I didn't want to ruin her funeral. Get that through your thick skull."

"Then why-"

"James," Alya says, getting increasingly frustrated by the minute. "I'm not going to tell you anything." She tries to walk past him but he grabs her arm.

"You're a good actress, Alya," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "But you're hiding something and I want to know what."

"James!" She attempts to yank her arm away from him, but his grip is like iron. "Let me go!"

"Alya," he says. "Just tell me what it is. Just tell me what's going on."

In a fleeting instant, she catches a glimpse of the old James, the one who would give her presents and help her change her light fixtures; the James who cuddled with her and helped her forget Tom-

"Alya," James says. His eyes harden; his stony disposition has returned.

Alya swallows dryly. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to tell him what she had seen? He already thought she was crazy...

"I saw a ghost," Alya whispers. "I saw Lizzie and she talked to me."

James gives her a long hard look, then turns away. "I can't believe you, Alya."

Tears well up in Alya's eyes. "I swear I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me!"

James turns his back on Alya and walks away. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"James?"

He doesn't turn back.

Thin white silk flows in the wind. A pale foot slides out of the casket. Lilies fall from the sky, staining the ground a rotten shade of brown.

Lizzie is dead, she said. 

Lizzie is dead.