A/N: Mmph.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot line. Kudos to Satoshi Tajiri completely.
I'm scared.
Four-year-old Dawn sat in her bed, the covers pulled tightly around her shoulders. It was late, far past a good little girl's bedtime, but she just couldn't sleep. Something was telling her that she shouldn't.
Outside it was storming. Rain pelted her window and lightning lit up her dark room, sending scary shadows across her floor. She hated the rain. It always kept her awake when she tried to sleep at night, giving her horrible nightmares as the thunder rumbled against their roof. During the day it was bearable, the light from the sun helping to drown out the scariness of the lightning as it flickered across the sky.
"I want Daddy," she sobbed quietly, covering her ears when thunder boomed outside, shaking the window in its frame. "Daddy, Mommy," she sobbed, more audibly this time. Footsteps sounded outside her room as her mother rushed down the hall. Stepping quickly through the open door she almost jumped onto the bed to comfort her child, wrapping the girl in her arms as she cried against her shoulders.
"Shh," she cooed as she held Dawn. "Everything's going to be okay, Mommy's here. It'll be fine, everything will be fine as soon as Daddy gets home, you'll see."
But her father never made it home that night.
With how large and lonely the house felt, Dawn decided to trail the boy, following him as he headed out the door for school. Even after three days of haunting his home she still didn't know what his name was, nor had seen seen the other inhabitant. During some snooping she'd done while he was asleep, though, she'd discovered that he attended the same high school that she had, was even in the same grade. Revelling at this information for only a short time, she knew she could never really put it to good use—what deceased person could? Pushing that thought aside, she floated about him as he walked into his first class.
He—of course—claimed a seat in the back, as far away from the front of the room that he could get. Leisurely floating above his head, she studied him as he dropped his bag on the floor by the desk and flopped into his seat. He promptly propped his chin on the heel of his hand, elbow on the desktop. Even though class hadn't started he looked bored already. Dawn found this a curiosity: she'd enjoyed school for the most part because it wasn't a negative experience to her. She had her friends, nice teachers, and interesting subjects; what wasn't there to love? To him, apparently nothing.
It was the same the rest of the day. She'd follow him to class, he'd drop his stuff on the floor, sit down, and stare toward the front of the room until class was over. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was kind of annoying, the way he just went about his day like it was a total nuisance to him when he could have been turning it into a positive. Jeez.
Most of his classes were quiet, the only noise the droning sound of the teacher's voice as they attempted to teach a bunch of teens still dazed from lazy days in the sun over the summer. Sometimes they buzzed with muted whispers. At first it had sounded like petty gossip to Dawn's ears, but when she tuned in she found that they were . . . a little bit morbid. It was mostly girls who were whispering, their heads bent low like they were reading and following along with the teacher in their textbooks, but it was to hide their mouths moving. And boy did they move. Dawn shook off the odd feeling she was getting as they were dismissed.
.
.
.
Reconvening after lunch, kids were even more spaced out because of their full bellies and how long the day seemed to be dragging on. Dawn had taken her position at the boy's shoulder once more as he stared into space, her eyes watching the students with mild curiosity. Most of them were quiet, dozing in their seats, but a hushed voice caught her attention. Blocking out the teacher as they tried in vain to maintain their students' lack of interest, Dawn trained her ears on that one voice. Being so faint, it took her a minute to pinpoint its location, but when she did she found it belonged to a girl sitting a couple seats over, pink hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned over her desk.
Whispering to her neighbor as inconspicuous as possible, the back of her hand close to her mouth to mask the movement of her lips, Dawn frowned. Brushing it off as some girls who just weren't paying attention, the blunette was about to go back to her new hobby of haunting the boy when, like a jolt of static electricity down her spine, the word "summer" caught her attention once more. Eyes snapping back to the girls, she let her morbid curiosity get the better of her, letting herself float higher and mentally pushing her body in their general direction.
Looming ominously over them, she watched as the one with her hand over her mouth lean a fraction closer to her friend. It was the one with the pink hair, her bangs falling into her eyes as she glanced from the other girl to the teacher's turned back before murmuring, "I still can't believe it happened so close to here."
Her friend exhaled through her nose as she agreed quietly. White hair framed her face, a french braid made from her bangs winding around to fall behind her ear. "Nothing like this has really ever happened in that area, right? Does that make it a freak accident or something?"
Pinky looked contemplative as she averted her eyes to her blank notes. "Maybe. It's so scary how easily you can be dragged into the water like that, though. Especially with help so close by."
They continued their hushed conversation, both speaking in vague terms, but Dawn had already stopped listening. Dragged into the water . . .
They were talking about a drowning.
With such few details, it was difficult at first to pinpoint exactly what they were talking about, but the rest of the pieces slowly fell into place. Are they . . . talking about me? Slowly floating away, Dawn paid no attention when the teacher yelled at them to be quiet, startling the two. Numbness was all she felt as she tried to convince herself they weren't talking about her, dread anchoring her in place. Maybe someone had drowned at a pool or something in the near vicinity, or had fallen into the ocean while fishing off the shore. The beach they'd gone to that day hadn't been that close to this area, so maybe it was somebody else they'd been whispering about?
She tried to keep telling herself that until the bell rang.
That night she sat crouched in her little nook, her shoulder leaning against the hard wood of the dresser. The boy was sitting at his computer like usual, clicking away with his mouse. A towel was wrapped around his neck, his wet hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Late evening light peeked through the cracked curtains, a thin line across the floor. She stared down at it shining across her feet. It made her eyes hurt. I wish he'd open them all the way.
The room was dim, the overhead lamp off. The only light in the room was from the window and the glow of the computer screen. It would change colors as he switched windows, the LED light glinting off his damp hair. She idly wondered what he was looking up. He did this every night and it always peaked her curiosity. But she didn't move—she never did. She'd sit in the same spot, staring at the wall behind him as it changed colors while he browsed pages. His shadow rarely moved.
Waiting. Every night since she'd fallen into his room she waited silently until he went about his routine: he'd already taken a shower, now he was just wasting time at his computer. She sat patiently for hours until he got up, draped the towel across the back of his chair, turned off his computer, and climbed into bed. By then it was late into the night, the sun having gone down hours before.
From her seat she could see could barely see him sprawled under the covers. Dim moonlight lit her toes now, the darkness setting her senses on high alert. Every night this happens. Whenever the lights went out she'd begin to buzz with energy. It was like someone had given her a shot of adrenaline straight through her sternum—she was buzzing with it even as she mentally commanded her body to remain still. The voices returned as well, louder and more coherent than ever.
"Dawn, my sweet baby."
"Please . . ."
With her arms clasped tightly around her legs, she held back tears as she sat there the entire night. She refused to move until they faded away, and only until the welcoming light of day started to shine did they finally leave her, allowing her to fall into a fitful slumber.
Morning time.
Dress for school silently.
Ignore everybody in class.
Walk home.
Isolate himself for the rest of the night.
Bed time.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Every day was just about the same as the rest. The boy never really talked to anybody else during the school day, so it was easy for Dawn to become bored. Floating as close as she dared was becoming her norm; she needed something else to do. A few days before she'd almost worked up the nerve to find her house, but as soon as she made it out the front door she immediately lost it. It was almost like the boy had become her crutch: as long as she knew he was in the vicinity she was stable, sane.
This day she felt the urge to push her limits. They were in the class with Pinky and White again. The two weren't talking, but they still weren't paying attention: one was sleeping, the other doodling in her notebook. Shaking her head, Dawn maneuvered through the desks until she reached the door. She'd been opening doors without even thinking about it, but this time she tried to faze through it. Acting corporeal had become a habit for her, but after a few tries she succeeded in pushing her body through the wood.
It was silent in the hallway. With class in session it shouldn't have been such a surprise, but the stillness was almost a shock. When she'd been alive she'd never really left the classroom except for class changes or quick bathroom runs. She'd never really paid attention to the actual size of the hall, how wide it was, even with the lockers lining both sides. The lights above her seemed to shine so brightly that they almost blinded her. Shielding her eyes, she continued down the hall.
Her objective was to find May. Misty and Leaf—That's right, Leaf. I totally forgot about her—had already graduated. Actually the whole reason they'd gone to the beach in the first place was to celebrate her friends' completion of high school. Only her, May, and Misty had been able to go, though, since Leaf had to keep an eye on her adopted younger brother, Silver, who had been becoming a bit of a trouble maker. On one hand she was glad that Leaf hadn't been there to see Dawn be dragged into the ocean like a rag doll. On the other she wished she'd been able to see her friend one last time.
If she remembered correctly, May had said that her class would be near the end of the hallway that lead to the breezeway. The lockers seemed to be giving off a dull, high-pitched sound as she walked past each one. It made her ears ring in a terribly uncomfortable way, but no matter how much she tried she just couldn't ignore it. It followed her the entire time she walked, only pausing when she'd step to the side and poke her head through a classroom door to check inside. Nope, not this one, she'd think before removing herself and trying the next one.
After five rooms and nothing to show, she finally struck gold with the second to last one. Seated in the middle of the room with her head down was May. She had a glum look on her face, her hair frizzy and unkempt. Her complexion was terrible: her once tan skin was now a sickly pale color; a small breakout had spread across her cheeks; her once bright blue eyes looked dull, even under the fluorescent lights. Overall, she just looked terrible. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to the teacher, either, her eyes on her empty desktop.
Oh, no. Oh, God, May, no. Trying to keep herself from breaking down as well, Dawn wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, hugging herself so hard she both felt and heard her ribs creak. It killed her that she could do nothing but watch her friend as she began to silently sob. All she wanted to do was rush forward and pull May into a tight embrace, to tell her that everything would be all right, just like her mother would do during thunderstorms when she was young. But she couldn't. All she could do was stand there and fall apart alone in a room full of unsuspecting people.
Before leaving the room, Dawn glanced at her distraught friend one last time. One of the boys next to her had pulled out a tissue and was handing it silently to her. He didn't look at her, only glanced in her direction when she took it from him. They didn't exchange words or make eye contact—May only nodded her head in gratitude before dabbing her eyes with the tissue and turning stoney-faced. The boy just nodded back, shifting his brown hair to the side with his hand as he looked away. In almost an instant she recognized him—it was Brendan, her neighbor.
Turning around so fast she almost gave herself whiplash, Dawn pushed into the air and immediately floated over them. She hadn't seen Brendan in months, not even before the accident. He'd been keeping to himself lately, but Dawn had never figured out why. But as she watched them now as she hovered directly over May, so close that the hem of her ghostly skirt almost skimmed the top of her head, she could see their interaction much closer than she ever could have when she was alive.
Brendan had come into Dawn's life while her father had still been alive. He had been her neighbor for as long as she'd known the house to be there. Almost every day after school he and Barry—Oh, Barry, sweet Barry—would come over and play with her. She became acquainted with Barry through Brendan since they'd attended the same preschool and the younger blond boy lived down the street from them. The three had grown close, and even when they'd begun to attend middle school and formed other groups of friends, they'd still found time to spend together. Usually Dawn's girlfriends would join, bringing the blunette's circles together. Nothing could have made her happier.
Observing them began to give Dawn a greater insight to their situation: every few seconds she noticed that Brendan would peek at her friend from the corner of his eye, immediately jumping back to the textbook they were supposed to be reading if he thought she'd seen him. It was like watching a nature documentary where one animal would toy at the other, trying to gain their attention but ultimately be ignored. Interesting.
Storing her findings away for another time, Dawn let herself float up until she almost touched the ceiling. She thought about just letting herself continue up until she was no longer in the school, letting the wind carry her off and up, up, up like a balloon until she breached the stratosphere. But she realized she wouldn't be able to find the boy if she decided to just disappear like that.
Speaking of which. Glancing at the clock hanging over the doorway, Dawn panicked when she saw that class had only two minutes left. Wasting no time, she threw a glance of farewell at her old friends and disappeared through the wall. It was thankfully easier this time.
Without wasting a moment, Dawn dropped to the floor and began to run down the hall. Her footsteps were a silent echo on the linoleum as she raced to get back to the boy's room. Actually acting like a ghost and flying to the classroom probably would have been more efficient, but she was afraid she'd zoom right past it. She didn't even notice when she ran past a person, her dress fluttering around her knees as she puffed past lockers.
"Holy fu—" The loud clang of a locker door banging grabbed her attention. Stopping and spinning on her heel, she turned to see a boy in front of an open locker, the door banging against his leg. Nothing seemed terribly wrong with him, except the look of pure horror that he wore. It wouldn't have been anything odd and Dawn would have continued to run if he hadn't been staring right at her.
Stupefied, she stared back. Impossible, she thought. Nobody else had been able to see her so far, so what made her think that he was actually seeing her? To test this, Dawn stepped forward, opening her mouth to speak—nothing but silence. She couldn't get a word out. Her throat felt dry, like she'd been breathing the dry air of a desert her entire life. Forcing down a swallow, she tried again. Pulling apart her parched lips she said, "Can you . . . can you see me?" It was a whisper, but it was so deathly silent in the halls it sounded like a shout.
Seeming to hesitate, the boy grimaced before nodding his head, acknowledging that he could indeed hear and see her.
"Oh, my gosh. Oh, my . . ." Tears flooded her eyes, so much so that she couldn't see anything besides blue and green blurs. She began to break down once again, falling to the ground hard. Her knees made no sound when they hit the linoleum, but the force of it sent a shock through her. The scars along her body, both hidden and visible, glowed brighter than the fluorescents above them. Her dress fluttered around her in a non-existent breeze as her emotions took over.
Physically and emotionally unstable, her ghostly form began to waver. Pulling her hands from her face, she could see that they were slowly fading. One look determined that the rest of her was disappearing as well. Now a blubbering mess, Dawn pawed at the floor and tried to gain stable ground. But her legs refused to work, seemingly glued to the ground now. Looking up in dismay, Dawn saw that he was watching her with a look of horror crossed with one of wonder. Everything was starting to go black around the edges of her vision, so with the last bit of strength she could muster she managed to choke out, "Your name. What's your name?"
As he answered, the dismissal bell rang loudly above their heads. It clanged dully against her eardrums as she disappeared, but she heard what he said as if he had shouted it to her. Maybe he had.
"I'm Drew. Drew Hayden."
