It's a dark room, with a dim blue lighting. It's the welcome party in Canada, for the newcomers in the industry that year, and their introduction. She held her boyfriend by her arm, feeling the attraction they had as comfort, in midst of this. Her father was there. And she had to put up a show, a fake show, as they introduce her as now a part of her own famous father's company.
As her boyfriend and Jane talk to the other guests, one by one, she catches sight of her Dad. Frozen, a blank mind comes upon her and her violet eyes straight up focus on him with a soft pierce, lining a past and emotions. His eyes had a tired look, as if he couldn't be more apologetic. He was prepared for hatred.
But slowly the corners of her mouth lift up just a bit, and it's an acknowledging smile.
Her dad feels lighter, clumsy like a child. He beams at her.
Then she slowly goes back at approaching people, with a bigger smile on.
His daughter is shining. He should be proud of a talented, strong, beautiful soul of a daughter.
She feels the need of fresh air.
Jane excuses Jared for a minute, and passes through dark corridors to reach the back lawn of the mansion where the party was. And as she turns at a dark corridor, she can feel someone joining her from the other side.
Behind her. Following.
She ignores it, due to courtesy. But it's like the person isn't a real one, does not give off the energy and life of an ordinary person attending the party. It's someone stoic, as if here for another mission. As if wanting to be as incognito as possible. It's creepy.
Seconds later, he's gone.
At the garden, Jane can hear the grass as she slowly walks to a cherry blossom tree. She puts a light hand on it, and stares at the city below the hill.
She hears slow whistling. It's tune is dark, brooding, and sad. Telling Jane something wasn't right, once upon a time. Yet smiling. It's scary.
Sadness is the root of every frightening capture of human souls. In every story. It traps a human.
Living or dead.
It turns louder, as if coming closer, and closer... without the crunch of the grass.
At a point, it is close enough, half a feet away, and sharp. Laughing and mocking at her, that she ignored the vibe of it that gave birth to a fear in her heart, which was almost opaque, almost at the edge of her skin, clinging to it, as if it would escape her as a body and stand right in front of her. That screamed, "Beware" and that maybe she should have been careful.
And now she turns back frantically, to hear the whistling coming from the opposite side of the tree, less near, scoring away and away...
Her hand rests on her chest. She can feel a drop of sweat dripping down her cheekbone, resting on her collarbone for a while.
The fear, that maybe it's too late, now blurs her reasoning a bit, that she can't escape for good anymore. It's started to weaken her, taking over.
But she has been here before. This is the point when spirits, evil or sometimes her heart herself traps her in, forever, taking advantage. This is not happening again.
As her mind returns to the lighter feeling of the party once more, she pushes away any other fear, as long as she can walk back to the party. In the dark corridor, her mind tries not to give in to a feeling that she might fear the encounters again, trying to stay calm, she can finally make it to the lighted hall among bodies, whispers and perfume, in the low light.
Jared, in conversation with someone, happens to look at her sideways and she can hear him registering her wide, frozen and numbed up composure.
He walks up to her and says, "You took a while... but you look a bit shaken, baby." He places his heavy arms around her back. She can feel herself inside his love and safety, at home and she starts feeling happier.
He looks at her and chuckles. "You will need me for your entire life. I'm your hero. Whatever happened, you can go to the restroom and calm your nerves."
He catches the doubt in her eyes and says, "It's right here. I'm right here. Go."
In the restroom, she washes her face. Places her palms on the counter and leans on it, looking at her reflection. She went too far there. She had to give in to the feeling. She's trapped, it's not going away.
"You look just like your mom."
From behind her, slowly appears a bad ass looking girl with short hair, covered in black leather, in the reflection. Jane narrows her eyes at her. No one mentions her dead mother. Not when she's not okay.
"I'm Sarah," she puts on her leather jacket, to cover her tattooed arms. All too typical. She catches sight of a tiny one which said, 'Marie'. She walks up to the counter, washes her hands and puts it under the dryer. Looks up at her, with a turned head. They look at each other for a while. Jane's eyes held reproach, Sarah's held cold indifference. Her lips move.
"It wasn't an accident. She was murdered."
Deep horror encompasses Jane's chest. She can't move. This is real life, she can hear her mind learning. It's all too strong to deal with. A cold wind fills the landscape of her soul. It isn't a warm, happy place. It is a dark, wrecked place with no life. Her expression turns stoic.
"I know because I used to be your father's best friend when she died. He sent me something. Live. You can know the truth from him. Follow me."
Then she walks out, and the door of the restroom shuts itself.
Jane quickly follows her. Sends a voicemail to Jared," Honey, BRB."
She hears the heels clicking down the corridor, and the opening of a room. Switching on of the lights. When she reaches the door, Sarah is looking at her gravely and then walks of, passing her. It is a dining room. Lots of separate tables, as she walks up to the one Sarah stood next to. She finds a film tape. Picks it up.
She has to pass a couple of hours more. Sleep through the flight back to Hollywood, California. All with the stoic expression.
Only then can she know what's in the tape.
