BRIDGE: EVELYN

You've found someone new, haven't you, my baby? I can always tell. This morning, when the fog around the lighthouse lifted, I could hear our song on the breeze. You sounded happy.

You killed again, baby. You shouldn't have done it. But you did, you couldn't stop. I couldn't stop you before it was too late. And you won't stop. It got too dark for you in the water. The Morgan woman wanted it to stop, and she tried. But it was wrong, all wrong. And now nothing can hold you back.

This new someone, the woman and her little boy. You let her set you free, and she'll be coming to me soon, I know. But until then…

I know you won't be sleeping. And neither will I, darling.

2: RACHEL

I never knew what to make of Aidan before, but I'm at a loss now more than ever. The closer I try to get to him, the more he closes himself off to me. Ruthie felt that way about Katie toward the end, too, but Katie was sixteen. Aidan is eight.

But for whatever reason, at this point, I'm determined to make some progress. I don't know if he needs a mother any more than before, but I need to be one. Because when it all comes down to it, when I think about last week…Aidan and myself are all I have left to protect from Samara. And I'd gladly give up the latter if it would save the former.

But there's nothing left I can do tonight. Aidan's asleep, and I'm here at the kitchen table staring into a lukewarm cup of black coffee.

Or at least, I was. Somewhere along the line, my head ended up buried in my arms. I'm exhausted, that's all. I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes and this headache will go away. Just a few minutes…

"Hey."

Someone else is in the room. I jolt upright, startled at the hand on my shoulder.

"Aidan?" I ask, instinctively.

"Guess again, Sleeping Beauty."

I know that voice. Oh god, I'm losing it. Because there's Noah, hovering over me. He takes a step back while I rub my eyes, expecting him to disappear like all my other momentary visions of ladders and dead women. But he's still there, smirking as he pulls out a chair across from me and sits in it.

"Long time, no see," he remarks offhandedly, picking up Aidan's fork to prod cold, barely-touched meatloaf. "This supposed to be some kinda hamburger thing?"

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I close it, then open it again, then close it, watching him take a bite and grimace.

"Nice. Very….uh, chewy," he comments, reaching for a napkin. "You know, my mom used to make it with tomato juice and onions…"

I finally find words as he deposits the chewed food into the napkin, looking like it's an effort not to laugh at me.

"Noah, you can't be here," I reason, rubbing my throbbing temple. "You're dead. They buried you yesterday. Please tell me I'm not going crazy."

"Depends on who you ask," he shrugs. I must be giving him my most incredulous look, because he finally offers up an explanation. "Chill out, Rach. You're dreaming."

"Oh."

I stare at him for almost a minute. Usually in a dream when someone tells me I'm dreaming, I wake up. But this isn't going away. I start to drum my fingers on the table.

"So…I thought you'd be a little happier to see me." He says, still showing no intention of leaving.

"Oh, no. I mean, yeah," I say. My head is still pounding. "I mean, sorry. I'm sorry, Noah."

I'm thinking 'sorry' isn't much to say to someone when you're indirectly responsible for their death, but it's all I can think of to offer. Noah's expression is unreadable, but he reaches out and covers my hand with his. I recoil jerkily. He's freezing.

"I'm sorry, Rach, I don't have much time. She'll find me soon."

"Samara." I say. He nods. This must not be an average dream, I realize. Everything's so clear. Ruthie always used to talk about spiritual visits and dreams that meant something when we were teenagers. I'd just laugh at her then.

"What was it like, Noah? Dying, I mean. Did she…?"

Noah shakes his head and chuckles. "I was so scared, I could've pissed my pants."

I just stare open-mouthed at him. Leave it to Noah to make light of something that's been eating away at me for the past week. We both laugh a little, and I'm starting to feel better. But his expression changes abruptly, and I suddenly feel solemn again.

He's standing again, taking me by the shoulder. 'C'mon, Rachel, I have to show you something."

This can't be good. The room around me is shifting and blurring into shades of gray, and my head is killing me and I'm getting so dizzy that I have to put my arm around him for support. And when we stop spinning, I still haven't let go.

The sky above us is gray and the grass below us is brown, and on the foggy horizon I can make out the shape of a well on the edge of a forest.

"Oh god," I mouth, "Not here again." But Noah pushes me forward gently, telling me to look closer without a sound. After a hesitant glance in his direction, I begin to move toward the shapes. Now my stomach is starting to hurt, too, because Samara is here, her back to me, and in her chilly embrace…oh dear god no, it can't be—

"Aidan!" I scream. "Aidan, get away from her! Don't let her touch you!" But he doesn't look up, he doesn't move, he doesn't respond and I know something's wrong. She's hit him in the head with a rock and his nose is bleeding; I lunge forward to save him but Noah stops me.

"They can't see you. They can't hear you. I'm sorry," he says, gripping me by the shoulders. I can't bite back my tears anymore, and despite everything he's just said I continue to struggle against Noah as she whispers poisoned words into Aidan's ear and pushes him down into the well.

And then I could swear she's looking at me.

"Mommy," a hoarse voice croaks into my ear. I look around, but now everything's fading, even Noah.

"Shit. She knows…I have to go. Save him, Rachel," he urges, "Look for his shadow. It's the only way—"

xxxxxxooooooooooxxxxxxx

I don't have time to make sense of it, because I'm back in the kitchen, awake and gasping for breath.

Two weeks ago I wouldn't have been scared. And I wouldn't have made anything of it, just dismissed it as my imagination. But a dream is never just a dream anymore, and I have to check up on Aidan because I have this horrible feeling that something's happened.

"Please, please, please, let him be safe, let him be safe…" I whisper to no one over and over as I shakily stand up and open the door to the living room. When I slide open the doors and see light emitting eerily from the TV, my stomach drops.

Every step closer to the television fills me with more dread. The sound of soft static is taking precedent over my other senses, but I swear there's also the sound of feet walking in water with every tread on the carpet. I look down for a second and realize my slippers are soaked, and what finally confirms all my fears is a split-second image of a strand of snaky black hair retreating into a well.

I don't care how late it is. I don't care if the whole damn building wakes up. I need to know if she's done anything to him. I scream out for my son, sprinting to his bedroom and throwing on the light switch, revealing the worst possible scenario—his covers are folded all the way back and he's just gone.

Any rational thought I may have had has left me and I check everywhere else; the closet, the bathtub, my room. I'm in a full-scale panic and I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to do.

And then the phone rings. Without hesitation, I pick up.

"Here we go, the world is spinning…"

"Dammit!" I exclaim bitterly, slamming the receiver back down. I've got to do something. I…need a flashlight. And some asprin.

Someone's still singing.

"When it stops, it's just beginning…"