Chapter Three – Comfort

Bella

I sat there in the cold auditorium filled with people, watching the ghostly child. I wondered what could've happened to her. She looked so sweet and innocent, even in her grey, dampened state. My wonderment turned to anger as I tried to process the images that she was showing me.

First, there was a car, a late model in a tan color. The image quickly changed, and it seemed that I was seeing through her eyes, through her memories. She appeared to be in the backseat of a moving vehicle. It was dark outside the windows, street lamps whizzing by. When the child ghost realized that I could, see her thoughts, she started to move toward me.

She stopped before me, and I couldn't help the pull to try to comfort her. The images had paused, but they were suddenly coming faster and faster at dizzying speeds. Water – so much water – so cold. It was too much, too fast as the images continued to torment me. Unable to block the onslaught of images, I gasped for breath and asked her to stop.

She paused briefly but then continued. The images slowed, now showing me memories of the handsome man she haunted – her father.

He was drinking, bottles strewn across the living room. His broken sobs and whispered words said in his restless sleep. He stayed in her bed night after night, begging to hear her voice, a digital recorder in his hand. I cried out again, because I felt the pain that her father did.

The pain she felt watching him.

I turned back to face him, the arrogant man with so many secrets. The child flashed pictures of an empty hamster cage in a child's room. There was a tiny plaque above the cage door. She was trying to find something that I could say to make him believe.

"She keeps showing me pictures of an empty hamster cage," I said, laughing when I saw the child's lip pout in her anger. "I think she's a little upset that you let Oli die."

I turned away as the features on his face soften and the haunted look in his eyes intensified. I marched down the aisle, leaving a distraught father behind but taking his daughter with me.

"I can't help you," I said in a low whisper. I continued down the empty hallway in search of a bathroom. I found one just a few doors down, near an exit.

I checked each stall, ensuring that I was alone. Well, then again, I was never really alone. I turned to lock the bathroom door, but she beat me to it. She seemed stronger than I first realized.

"Thank you," I said.

She smiled and nodded as she twisted a wet curl around her finger. I turned away from her and stood in front of a sink and mirror. I couldn't believe what I had done inside that room. I'd almost ousted my friend, I'd made a fool of myself, and I'd let my anger control me. I was lucky that I didn't attend this school, so no one would know who I was.

The ghost child continued to show me memories and random images. They all consisted of her father. There were no memories of a mother, but some of grandparents. There were images of a brightly colored room, painted by her and her father, picking out her bedspread, and her father tucking her in at night.

Then she showed me images of when her father had read her bedtime stories. She stopped for a moment and then realized she had a way to talk to me more clearly. She used the words, the memories from the books her father had read.

Love – Dad – Need – help! – No – more – light.

I closed my eyes, trying to slow the speed of the images. "Please stop," I said loudly.

Please – help!

I turned on the hot water and let it scorch the tender skin at my wrists. "Why is the light gone?" I asked, still not facing the child.

Don't – know – Help! – Dad – please – Need – peace.

I knew then that I would have to do something to help her. Children were rare to see like this. Most had guides or someone on the other side to show them the way. If I didn't help, chances were that she'd haunt her father until the day he died. Then she'd be alone. I couldn't let that happen.

How could I make him believe?

I looked up from my hands and turned off the water. The mirror above the sink was foggy. I smiled because I had found a way. With a shaky finger, I printed my name in the fogged up mirror.

"I think I've found a way for you to talk to your dad," I said, tracing a heart in the mirror.

Suddenly, all the faucets turned on until every mirror had clouded over. In the mirror beside me, words started to form.

Thank you. Hayley. Please help me.

I nodded.

I watched as Hayley twirled her ponytail in small circles, giggling silently as I spoke with her father. I needed the whole story, anything to help me find her peace.

I just hoped it was something he wanted.

I tried to apologize for my outburst, but he stopped me, asking me a question I wished I had a better answer to.

He fell to his knees, a sob escaping him, and his words chilled me to the bone. I went to him, wanting desperately to comfort him. "Until now, she's only been considered missing." I hovered over him and listened to his quiet cries. I shook my head, turning to see what Hayley was doing. Tears intermingled with drops of water started to flow down her pale cheeks.

I turned back to speak to Professor Cullen. "Can you tell me what happened?" I asked. "Most of the images she has shown me are disjointed and full of confusion."

Professor Cullen nodded but remained on his knees. I turned and quietly told Hayley to draw me some pictures. She nodded in understanding and turned toward the blackboard.

"She can see you," I whispered, leaning in close to his ear. His dulled eyes snapped to mine, horror dawning in them. I held out my hand, which he took tentatively.

The moment our hands touched Hayley circled us, swirling cooled air around our joined hands. The haunted look in her eyes was gone, replaced by happiness.

"What is it, Hayley?" I asked, confused by her reaction.

She suddenly appeared in front of the board. The letter Y started to form.

You're pretty.

I laughed a bit as a blush crept up my cheeks. Edward must have figured out our exchange because his own cheeks tinged a bit, his hand still clutched in mine.

"Sorry," he said. "Hayley tried a few times to set me up before she–" He trailed off, unable to continue.

"It's fine, Professor Cullen," I said, pulling him toward a chair. I had him sit down, and I poured him a glass of water.

He sighed heavily and took the glass I offered. His hands trembled as he sipped slowly. His eyes remained on the board, his daughter writing, I love you repeatedly.

"Tell me," I said in a low whisper.

"Her mother left her on my doorstep a few weeks after she was born," he started, placing the glass of water on the floor. "I hadn't seen or heard from her apart from the three months that we had dated before she disappeared."

"I wasn't ready to be a father. I was concentrating hard on finishing grad school, and I was just in the second year of my teaching. But the moment her tiny hand curled around my finger, I was hers." The loving look on his face broke my heart.

"I raised and cared for her with the help of my parents. My world revolved around her. I hadn't heard from her mother since she'd left Hayley in my care. Suddenly, she was there, wanting to spend time with her, but my father warned me. Hayley wasn't what she wanted though, my father had her investigated, and she was heavily in debt. She not only owed money to banks and credit companies, but to the wrong type of people." He looked at me. "Do you know what I mean?"

I nodded in understanding, encouraging him to continue. "I didn't want to risk retribution for her debts, so I paid them. I never gave her a dime, which of course she didn't like. She threatened to take Hayley from me, but her threats were empty. She never acted on them for almost a year. She must have known that she had no chance in getting full custody."

He sighed, looking up at me with tired eyes. I wasn't sure what compelled him, but he took one of my hands, tenderly rubbing circles across my knuckles.

Then I realized why, as a tear from my cheek fell on our joined hands. His fingers rubbed the wet spot away just as another tear fell, this time from his own eyes.

I wasn't sure how I knew, but I thought this was the first time he'd allowed himself to mourn in front of another person.

"We were out at the mall, picking out a new winter coat and boots, when her mother came. I had Hayley about her mother, but she'd never expressed any interest in knowing her. She turned away from her mother, returning her attention to a rack of coats. Her mother became so angry and accused me of brainwashing and turning Hayley against her."

Professor Cullen shook his head and sobbed a few times, taking deep breaths to compose himself. "I just turned away for a few moments to talk to Katherine, trying to get her to leave. I turned to make sure Hayley was still there, but she was gone."

His breathing hitched as the memories caused him to choke and sob. I stepped closer to him and ran a hand through his hair. His body trembled for a few moments before his breathing slowed just enough, his bowed head touching my abdomen.

"They caught a video of a man taking her through the parking area. An Amber alert was in place before he'd even hit the highway. He made it outside of Aurora, our hometown, and headed toward a nearby state park. His car was found with traces of Hayley's hair in the back seat, but neither of them were seen again."

He stopped, and a humorless laugh filled my ears. "I knew she was gone before we'd even started the search using the media. Katherine was the inconsolable mother who begged for her daughter back. We argued back and forth – she blamed me for Hayley's disappearance, and I accused her of just wanting her fifteen minutes."

"You think she had her taken," I said quietly. Hayley was humming a soothing lullaby, still lost in her doodling.

"I'm sure of it," he said with conviction. He looked up at me from under his lashes, so much sadness, and anger in them. "Do you know what happened to her?"

I shrugged my shoulders and bit my lip nervously. "I don't know for sure. As I said, her memories are only in bits and pieces. The blue dress and grey tights – were they the same clothes she wore they day she disappeared?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and the soothing movement of his thumb over my knuckles stilled. "Yes," he whispered. "I remember her saying she wanted to paint her toes blue that same morning."

"She must have died while wearing them," I said cautiously.

"I knew it," he whispered. Seeking further comfort, his cheek rested against my stomach. "I no longer felt her. The connection we had was so strong. It just stopped suddenly, a few hours after she was taken."

I sighed and removed my hand from his, running it through his hair. "Professor –"

He stopped me before I continued. "Edward. Please call me Edward."

"Edward, you may not like what we find."

He shook his head, the coarse hair of his late-day beard prickling through the fabric of my t-shirt. "I don't care. I just want her happy." His arms encircled my waist, his hands resting together at the small of my back. "I don't understand why I feel like this."

My breathing hitched. It wasn't due to his proximity, but because of the familiarity of his touch. "Feel like what?" I asked.

He remained quiet as Hayley's humming increased in volume. Her humming was a sweet melody, and as if he could hear her, her father joined her song. I turned, looking over my shoulder at her. I gasped when I saw her, because she looked like the way she would if she was alive.

She smiled widely, her hands clasped behind her back and a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her eyes were no longer bruised and dark, instead shining like emeralds. Her hair was a light brown, a hint of her father's unique color at the tips. She no longer looked wet and like a grey echo of her former self. She looked like what a little girl should like.

"She has your eyes," I whispered. Edward just continued to hum, the vibrations tickling my belly. Hayley danced around us, and my eyes tried to follow her steps. Her movements were so quick. "And she's making me dizzy."

Hayley leaned in to whisper in her father's ear. Edward pulled away to look up at me and started laughing. He looked confused, but the pull on his lips was undeniable. He was happy.

"Did you hear her?" I asked. He nodded, unable to control his laughter. "What did she say that's so funny?"

"She said," he started, wiping at his eyes, "that your panties have little white ghosts on them."

I stilled, blushing feverishly. "Hayley!"

Edward just laughed harder.