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Sins of the Past

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Chapter Three

I flew down the stairs and into the kitchen as fast as my feet would carry me, desperate for the safety of Mom's comfort.

"What's wrong dear?" Mom asked, upon my arrival. "See a ghost?"

She looked up from the dirty countertop, and immediately dropped the attitude when she noticed the distress evident on my face.

"What happened?"

I hadn't the opportunity to calm myself from the events that transpired upstairs, and thus involuntarily blurted out the first words that came to mind.

"I was in the bathroom."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "You tried that Bloody Elsa thing, didn't you?"

It was a rhetorical question, one both she and I already knew the answer to as I happened to have a previous track record for reckless curiosity.

"Did you actually see her?" Mom's voice was half serious, half incredulous.

I panicked internally for a second, having only just realized the ramifications of what happened upstairs. Do I answer truthfully? Do I say, "Yes, I did see a ghost, and she tried to strangle me." and have Mom question my mental stability? Should I simply lie instead, and laugh it all off as a practical joke? The risk of spending the rest of my life shackled by straightjackets and psychiatrist appointments did not seem at all appealing..

I would later wonder why I was ever worried that Mom of all people would send me away over something as petty as a ghost sighting, but I never was known for my rational thinking skills. I was of the kind who primarily did all their thinking with their heart, and in that instant mine had already made the decision and my mouth took over before my mind could protest.

"Kinda? I didn't actually see a ghost or anything —not like I was expecting to— but my face started to.. change.. and I got spooked. I think I know why it happened though, it's called the strange-face-in-the-mirror illusion. I read an article about it once. It's triggered by standing in a dimly lit room and begins after a few minutes of staring into a mirror and apparently—"

Only now did my mind finally realize what was going on, too late to stop the damage that had already been dealt, but in time at least to stop me before I could dig my grave any further. We stood in silence for a bit, me awkwardly scratching the back of my head while Mom stared at me with an unreadable look in her eyes.

Mom's dealt with me long enough to know that I'm spewing a pack of lies, but she didn't push the subject, continuing instead to bore a hole in my head. I needed an escape, which was odd because not three minutes ago I was desperate for her presence.

I glimpsed Mom's key ring sitting in its place atop of the kitchen counter, and one quickly formulated.

"I-I'm gonna go get the car keys." I stammered, "I should start moving in my things.."

I nabbed the keys and fled the kitchen almost as quickly as I had entered it.

I busied myself fully with bedroom renovation for the final hours of the night, forcing myself to fret over the placement of my various paintings and portraits rather than the debacles that occurred in both the bathroom and the kitchen. I managed to distract myself so effectively that I immediately collapsed into a dreamless sleep, dead tired, once I finished decorating my room.

I woke to the annoying squawking of crows and the painful throbbing of an inexplicable migraine. Darkness still permeated my room, which was odd considering that I hadn't shut my blinds prior to hitting the sack.

A quick glance at my bedside alarm clock revealed that it was 5 AM in the morning.. why was I awake so early?

I groaned as my inquiry was answered by an ear-splitting pain raging through in my head. I needed some pills.

I really didn't want to get out of bed, but my head demanded Advil, and like a newborn baby it sure as well wasn't going to let me rest until it was satisfied.

Thus, with the grace of a drunken hippopotamus, I rolled myself off the bed, blankets and all, and land headfirst upside-down on the floor for my troubles. Regret and pain immediately followed as my head violently rebuked me for my stupidity.

I slowly oozed out of my little blanket-burrito into a puddle of red hair and teddy bear pajamas, as though I were toothpaste being squeezed from the tube. It took great effort to hoist myself onto my feet, and even more so to get them moving.

I groggily made my way into the bathroom, and was reaching up to open the medicine cabinet when I noticed one of my small pink stickynotes stuck onto it. Written in fancy cursive, with ink that appeared to originate from one of my gel pens, it read:

Sorry about yesterday, but you kinda did ask for it.

Hope your headache isn't too bad.

Huh?

I took the note in my hand and flung open the drawer, swiftly choking down a few tablets of over-the-counter headache medication. I reread the note a few times, thoroughly confused by both its contents and its mere presence.

I didn't recognize the handwriting. Who wrote this? Why is it here? What did the note mean by I asked for it yesterday? I asked for what? Wha—

Oh.

Elsa must have written this.

But.. how?

Looking around, I quietly called out.

"Elsa..? Are you there?"

Indeed she was. From nothing and out of nowhere, her image materialized in the mirror, floating behind me. I tried and failed to suppress a gasp, but this time I didn't turn around. I at least knew by now that there'd be nothing there.

Elsa greeted me a short wave and a polite smile. She no longer wore the faceless mask that had me petrified previously, and her casual body posture contradicted any intent of malevolence. The temperature still dipped noticeably, though.

I could do little more than give a brief wave myself, as my mind was still processing everything and the medicine had yet to kick in. I clutched at my head as the throbbing intensified.

Elsa responded to my throes with a look of.. sympathy?

Strange.

I had a nagging gut feeling that Elsa may have had something to do with this unexplained migraine, the note notwithstanding, so I shot her my best death glare and asked, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this headache, would you?"

She shrugged, as if the response were 'sort of, but not really.'

Gee, thanks. That certainly helps clear up all the ambiguity problems I've been having about you. Stupid ghost.

"Who—what are you?" I pressed. "Why are you here? Why are you appearing to me all the time?"

Elsa turned away, unwilling to meet my gaze.

"Fine." I huffed, "Be that way. In which case you'd better find someone else to haunt."

I turned on my heel and made for the exit, only to discover that the door, once again, was jammed. I glanced back into mirror to find Elsa with one arm outstretched toward the door.

Hmpf. I suppose that's how she does it. Frankly I'm not in the mood to care right now. I'm cranky and tired, and I just want to return to my warm bed and sleep off these head pains.

"What?" I demanded, turning on Elsa. "What do you want from me?"

The spectre stared at me intently, and with her free hand mimed flipping over a piece of paper. I peered at the now crumpled stickynote still in my hand, and flipped it over to read:

I can explain. Meet me in the kitchen sometime prior to 8AM, but give me a few minutes to prepare.

There'll be a cup of hot cocoa waiting for you.

Huh.

I suppose that would be right now.

Elsa's arm fell to her side, and she promptly left, disappearing into the wall. I tried the door again and found that it opened easily.

I had sobered enough during the downtime to realize that I held in my hand physical proof of Elsa's existence. It wasn't hard evidence, of course, but it was proof enough to dispel the notion of all this paranormal activity being an elaborate dream or something; So, as requested, I waited for a few minutes in my room before cautiously heading down the stairs.

I arrived in the kitchen, and was surprised to find Mom awake, cleaning the kitchen counter. By her side sat my favourite mug, full of steaming liquid chocolate.

Why is she awake at 5 AM?

"Mom?" I called out.

Without looking up, Mom quietly replied, "I need you to be quiet, Anna. Can you do that for me?"

"M-mom?" I asked, worried, "Are you okay?" Something about Mom's mannerisms rubbed me wrong, because while she seemed visibly fine, her tired voice and suggested otherwise.

Mom looked at me as though I grew a second head, then checked herself and sighed, "Right, I've forgotten to introduce myself. It's me, Elsa."

What?

I stumbled backwards and opened my mouth to scream, but before I could utter a sound Mom—I mean Elsa, had cleared the distance between us with lightning speed and clasped a hand tightly around my mouth, silencing me.

I'm not quite sure how I'm going to handle the tone for this story.

I'd like for there to be a hint of mysteriousness, as we learn about Elsa's history and how she came to be, but I'd also like for a bit of lightheartedness while she and Anna bond since that's a gold mine of content waiting to be tapped. Ideally I'd do both, but I'm not sure if I can pull that off.

Also, Elsa's behaviour is kinda unreasonable right now, but that's not entirely a bad thing, right? You wouldn't realistically become best friends with some random stranger you met overnight, would you? Not every friendship starts out smoothly after all..