Authors' Note:

I'm back baby!

Hope you enjoy xxx

The sound of shattering glass seemed to fill my ears and then she was gone, disappearing in the blink of an eye, as if she had never been there in the first place.

"Calypso!" Tate's voice stopped my scream as he appeared in the doorway, replacing the figure that had stood there moments before. "What's going on?" He asked, walking slowly into the room, and towards me. All I could do was sit there in open-mouthed shock, tears beginning to blur my vision as a sudden sadness filled me. "Calypso?" Tate sounded worried, but I couldn't seem to get my mouth to move. In fact, I couldn't seem to get any of me to move. I felt like I had been doused in a bucket full of black paint, the thick mixture weighing me down both physically and emotionally.

Why was I so sad? I shouldn't be this sad.

"Calypso."

That did the trick.

Tate had grabbed a hold of my shoulders and shaken me roughly as he said my name one last time. Finally able to move, I collapsed, shrinking in on myself as I fell into Tate's arms, my head against his chest as the tears finally released, running down my cheeks.

"Tate?" A soft voice had me quietening my sobs, forcing myself to sit up straight. I couldn't seem to manage to get the tears to stop completely though. "What's going on?" It was Adelaide, standing in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, the other on the frame. "There's glass outside." She added.

"Yeah – Calypso saw a…rat." He improvised. "She scared me when she screamed so I dropped our drinks. I'll clean it up, just go back to your room." Tate's voice was so soft, and I found myself nodding along with his words even though they weren't addressed to me. Adelaide hovered in the doorway for a few silent seconds, before turning and walking away. As she did, I felt myself collapse again, this time sinking off the edge of the bed and onto the ground, my knees coming up to my chest as I hugged myself. "Calypso. What the hell happened?"

I shook my head, training my eyes onto the ground in front of me as I rocked gently back and forth. I didn't know how to tell him what I had seen. Even for Tate, this would be a little too crazy. I mean, saying that I had seen a…what…a ghost?

Was that what I had seen? I wasn't even sure myself.

I felt Tate slide down the bed next to me, and a gentle hand was placed on my arm. "It's going to be all right." Tate said. I nodded silently, hoping that he was right.

He wasn't.

For the next week nightmares drove away my sleep, waking me up with a scream stuck in my throat and sweat covering my body.

By the following Friday, I was sleep-deprived and angry. I don't what this lady wanted from me, but I was sick and tired of seeing her face in my dreams. I also wasn't sure why she scared me so much, but there was just something about her that left me filled with sadness every time that I saw her.

I knew I was going to sound crazy, but I had to tell Tate and figure this out. Just trying to ignore it was clearly not working, so it was time for a different approach.

I was sitting, once again, at the island in Tate's kitchen, perched on one of the bar stools, leaning my elbows onto the counter. Tate was making himself a sandwich. We had been talking about nothing in particular, considering that it was the end of the week and we had just had an entire walk home together to talk about our days at school.

"Tate." I said quietly when there was a lapse in the conversation. Tate hummed in response as he put his sandwich items away, letting me know that he had heard me. "I didn't see a rat. That day." I forced the words out before I could talk myself out of saying them.

I studied his reaction intensely, watching how he froze with his arm raised slightly from where he'd been about to put the butter back in the fridge. Slowly, he put the item away, closed the fridge and turned to me. He didn't say anything, but walked over and sat on the barstool next to mine.

I took that as an indication for me to continue.

"I saw…I saw…this…" The words got caught in my throat as I tried to say them, and I found myself being unable to make eye contact. "A lady." I finished lamely, glancing up at him. I didn't know what else to say, sure that I already sounded like some crazed idiot. Tate just nodded into the silence, no expression on his face. Finding the courage to continue, I opened my mouth again. "Pinned up, curled hair, beaded dress, necklace." I wasn't too sure why I was describing her, but somehow it helped. "I've drawn her before." I said. "Drawn her looking out of your bedroom window, Tate." I could see the slight surprise on his face at that statement.

I didn't blame him.

"And the dreams. Always screaming silently, this…this…this look in her eyes, like she's begging me for help. Tate, I've barely slept this past week. I don't know what to do." I could feel the tears beginning to well up in the backs of my eyes, and I hurried to turn away, blinking furiously. I didn't want to cry right now. I felt a warm hand on my back, and I made myself turn back to Tate, knowing I would have to face whatever it was that he said next.

"That would be Nora."