Innocence Forsaken

Ch 18. Long time, no see

Nothing made sense anymore. Who was the detective and his friend? The Web page just made the question more difficult to answer. Plus the noise coming from the apparently heated game of scrabble downstairs was about to knock the house.
Eve-Anne nearly grinned at the thought of the torch going out and the imminent chaos that would befall after it.
Someone down there was asking for it when there was a loud scream.
She knew what was going on, and who had lost the game.
Eve-Anne sighed and leaned back a little on her chair. Her list of names to eliminate had run dry for the time being, unfortunately. There were smaller criminals she could target, but that would be time-consuming and therefore unnecessary as many of the more petty criminals had unsurprisingly vanished from the scene.
"I know what you could do, hun." A voice said from behind her. It was a woman, not the Esier but they sounded somewhat similar. She looked well presented, tidy hair and make-up, but she gave off a strange feeling of emptiness and the spot she occupied seemed like it was empty. "Your PR is horrible."
Her accent rung strongly of somewhere in London, probably around the East End.
Eve-Anne's eyebrow shifted a little as she scanned the pale and seethrough beings nice and partially expensive clothes. Things weren't adding up.
"People need to respect a leader like you." She continued.
"I'm not a leader." Eve-Anne replied, crossing her arms and looking back at the ghost. She hesitated a little, wondering something for a few seconds.
"Who are you?" She said, putting the bottom of her foot firmly on the ground and using it to spin around on her chair to face the other.
"Just a friend. You can call me Mara." She responded.
Eve-Anne crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
"I want to see you win."
There was a gust of wind running throughout the room, and Eve-Anne tilted her head towards the window a little, but it was shut.
"You're everything I imagined and more..." She muttered, before laughing awkwardly. "Sorry, I never expected this to happen."
There was slight nausea building up in Eve-Anne's chest and throat, and Eve-Anne could feel Jessica felt the same.
Eve-Anne remained silent, but an unimpressed look graced her face.
"How's your sister?" She asked before there was a knock at the window, and it flew open. Another ghost climbed through clumsily.
"Time's up, dearie." He said as he hovered over and put his hand around her waist.
Again, Eve-Anne remained silent, but she felt her mouth drift open slightly in shock, confusion, or the in-between.
"The Watchdog'll find us, and no-one wants that, do we?" He said joyfully and grinned unusually.
"Absolutely not." She grinned back at him, in what seemed like an unnatural and fake loop.
They walked over to the window, and smiled, plastic-like.
"Oh, and we're sorry for leaving you 16 years ago." Both of them of the smiled before leaping out of the window and saying words of affection.
Eve-Anne stared at the open window, as it fought against the window and the snow battering it.
What had just happened?
Those two might have been the strangest people she'd met, and that included the two detectives.
There was one thing that stood out more than all of that fakeness layered over them though.
Eve-Anne couldn't remember it. The only thing she could really remember was what she learnt in that warehouse, and even that wasn't enough to know exactly what happened before Susanna took her and Jessica in.
She had to be dreaming or something, that had to be the only explanation. Why else could Uncle Ellis be here? And why else could Susanna have been taken in such a humiliating way?
Eve-Anne stood, and then threw herself down on her bed, and crossed her arms behind her head.
"No, that's not right." She muttered to herself. She could feel everyone's presence downstairs, something impossible in dreams.
She rubbed her head, confusion overtaking her for a split second.
She knew what her parents did, just ditched them at the first sign of trouble, but those two didn't seem capable. They seemed less than capable of doing much except trying to look posh, really.
Her arm slipped behind her head again, and she fell back into her erratic chain of thought.