Hotel Room...
Lynn sat rigidly on the edge of the sofa, her hands clutching a glass of water that Jenny had just handed her.
Her eyes were wide, her lips pale.
Panic clung to her like a second skin.
Across from her, Jenny, Lorrine, and Leah sat calmly in a semicircle, their presence steady but gentle—
Aware that today wasn't about ghost stories.
It was about a mother trying to understand a truth too heavy for most to bear.
Jenny leaned forward, her voice clear but kind.
"Your son, Cole, can see spirits."
Lynn's fingers tightened around the glass.
"Ghosts aren't normally visible to the living,"
Jenny continued, her tone more explanatory than warning.
"But when someone like Cole comes along—someone who can see them—they're drawn to him. Not to hurt him, but because they're desperate. Many of them don't know how to let go. Some don't even know they're dead."
Lorrine nodded, her voice quieter, more reflective.
Nod~
"They flock to him, hoping he can help them move on. That's what they want. Closure. Peace. But… not all of them are peaceful. And not all of them look... human anymore."
Lynn looked up sharply.
"What do you mean?"
Jenny pointed to herself.
"I can see spirits, too. I wasn't born with the gift, but… it was passed to me. After an accident. I used to think I was going crazy—just like Cole must have felt."
Lorrine stepped in.
"I work differently. I can connect with spirits, but I need a medium. An object, a place, a person. Something tied to the energy of the dead."
Leah remained silent but observant.
Her role was support—
And if needed, defence.
Lynn took a long, slow sip of water.
Her voice was smaller now.
"Can you… cure him?"
Jenny's expression didn't change, but she shook her head slowly.
"This isn't an illness, Lynn. It's not something you cure. Cole was born this way. But that doesn't mean he's alone."
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a matte-black business card once again with silver lettering.
DMC — Devil May Cry
"We fight what others won't. We protect what others fear."
"DMC helps people like Cole. We train them, protect them, and give them a purpose when they're ready. Right now, what he needs is understanding. Support. A safe environment where his gift doesn't turn into a curse."
Lynn stared at the card for a long time.
Then she looked back at Jenny, her voice trembling.
"Will he ever be normal?"
Jenny answered with a quiet smile.
"No. But that's not a bad thing."
The room fell into a thick, uncertain silence.
"____"
"____"
"____"
Lynn sat still, her fingers tracing the rim of her water glass as if it could anchor her to something real.
The sunlight from the window had shifted, casting long shadows across the floor, stretching toward her like silent questions.
She took a slow breath—
Then another—
Steadying herself.
Her eyes, tired but resolute, lifted to meet Jenny's.
"I'm not… leaving him alone with anyone,"
She said, her voice low but firm.
"If you're planning to take him somewhere—to teach him, train him, whatever this is… I'm going too."
Jenny didn't blink.
She looked at Lynn for a long moment, then gave a single nod.
Nod~
"Understood,"
She said.
Lorrine gave a small, approving smile.
"You're his mother. He needs that strength beside him, especially now."
Leah, quiet in the corner, simply inclined her head in agreement.
Lynn sat back slightly, her shoulders still tense but her resolve clearer now.
"I may not understand everything yet… but if this is real—if this is his reality—I'm not letting him face it alone."
Jenny's gaze softened.
"That's all we could ask for."
The quiet returned, but this time it carried a sense of understanding—
A shared burden now being held together, rather than alone.
Outside, the sound of a car passed by.
The clock on the dashboard read 2:46 PM.
School should've let out by now.
Lynn's eyes flicked from the time to the school's front doors.
Dozens of students poured out, laughing, shoving, disappearing into waiting cars.
But not Cole.
"____"
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"He's late,"
She muttered under her breath.
Jenny, seated beside her in the passenger seat, glanced over.
"Maybe he stayed behind to speak with a teacher?"
"No,"
Lynn said, already reaching for the door handle.
"Cole always comes straight out."
She stepped out of the car, her pace brisk and heart rising into her throat.
Lorrine and Leah exchanged glances and followed silently.
Inside the school, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above as Lynn pushed through the hallway, eyes scanning each door.
She reached Cole's classroom and knocked once before pushing in.
The teacher—
A balding man in his forties with glasses slipping down his nose—
Looked up from his papers.
"Mrs. Sear?"
"Where's Cole?"
Lynn asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Did he stay back with someone?"
The teacher frowned.
"Cole? He didn't come to his afternoon classes today."
Lynn's heart dropped.
"What?"
"He was here this morning."
The teacher continued.
"But after lunch? Didn't show."
Lynn staggered back a step.
"Are you sure?"
Leah asked, her tone sharp.
The teacher nodded.
Nod~
"Absolutely. I marked him absent. Is something wrong?"
Lynn's voice trembled.
"He... he wouldn't just disappear."
Jenny moved to her side.
"Lynn, we'll find him."
Meanwhile...
The bus hissed to a halt, brakes screeching lightly as the doors swung open.
Cole stepped down first, hands tucked nervously into the pockets of his hoodie.
Beside him, the man only he could see—
Dr. Malcolm Crowe—
Descended silently, his eyes scanning the street with quiet alertness.
The sky was overcast, casting a grey sheen over the row of suburban houses.
A chilly breeze rustled the leaves along the pavement as the two walked side by side, their steps slow, measured.
Cole swallowed.
Gulp~
"This is it. She contacted me last night."
Malcolm nodded.
Nod~
"You're doing the right thing, Cole. Helping her find peace... It's brave."
They turned a corner and stopped.
Before them stood a modest two-story house draped in sombre silence.
"____"
"____"
A black ribbon was tied to the front gate.
Several cars were parked along the street.
People moved in and out of the front door, their voices low, faces heavy with grief.
Cole's eyes drifted to the yard.
There, alone on a wooden swing, was a girl—
About thirteen—
With dark hair and a hollow look in her eyes.
She rocked back and forth slowly, her hands gripping the chains tightly.
Her face was pale, her expression distant.
He recognised her immediately—
Not the ghost he came to meet, but her sister.
The sister of the girl who died.
He approached quietly.
"Hi,"
he said gently.
The girl looked up, startled, but didn't respond.
"I'm Cole. I... I knew your sister. A little."
She stared at him, unsure, trying to place him.
"You don't go to my school. And she doesn't go to school."
"No. But... she asked me for help."
The girl blinked.
Her lips trembled.
"____"
She nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and looked away.
Nod~
Cole turned toward the house, heart pounding.
He reached for the door and stepped inside.
Malcolm followed silently.
The living room was crowded with mourners—
Friends, Neighbours, Distant family—
Murmuring condolences and sharing stories.
Framed pictures lined the mantelpiece.
In one of them, the girl—
Alive, smiling—
Posed in a bright yellow dress.
Cole's breath hitched.
The air felt cold. Still.
She was here.
He felt her presence before he saw her.
Cole stepped quietly through the mourners, his small frame barely noticeable among the adults crowded in the hallway.
Without hesitation, he climbed the staircase and made his way to the room at the far end—
The one that called to him with a chill in the air and a whisper only he could hear.
He pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was colder.
Still.
The bedroom had the stillness of abandonment, frozen in time.
A few toys lay scattered across the shelves.
The bed was neatly made.
And by the window, standing in the pale sunlight, was she.
The ghost of the girl.
Eyes were sad but calm.
As if she'd been waiting for him.
She turned slowly and walked to a small wooden box on her desk.
Her translucent hand rested on it for a moment—
Then she gently pushed it toward him.
Cole stepped forward and took the box into his hands.
Her voice was a whisper, fragile but clear.
"Please... give this to my dad. He needs to see it."
Cole nodded.
Nod~
When he turned back to look at her, she was already gone.
Downstairs,
The father—
Wearied by grief but trying to remain composed—
Was speaking with guests.
Cole approached him quietly, clutching the box.
"Sir,"
Cole said gently, drawing his attention.
"Your daughter… she asked me to give this to you. She said… You should see it."
The man blinked in confusion.
"She…?"
He looked at the box, then opened it slowly.
Inside was a single cassette tape, labelled with his daughter's handwriting.
Curiosity gave way to cautious hope.
"Probably some old puppet show she recorded."
He murmured.
With a sigh, he called to the others in the living room.
Sigh~
"Everyone, come in. She left a video. My daughter has left a video behind."
His new wife joined him, followed by the younger daughter, several guests, and extended family.
The father placed the cassette into the player and turned on the television.
Static.
Then a flicker of light.
The screen showed the girl's room.
The angle was odd—
Hidden—
Tucked between books on the shelf.
She was there, cheerful and laughing, doing a puppet show for the camera.
Her voice brought soft smiles to a few faces.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
She froze and quickly stuffed the puppets aside, climbing into bed.
"____"
A woman—
His second wife—
Entered the room with a tray of food.
She sat beside the girl and smiled softly.
Then, in clear view of the hidden camera…
She opened a small bottle, poured a white powder into the drink, and stirred.
Gasps filled the room.
Gasp~
"____"
The father's expression collapsed into shock and horror.
"No…"
He whispered.
"No, that can't be…"
The guests turned to look at the woman.
Her face had gone white.
The father rose slowly, trembling.
"You… You did this to her?"
His voice cracked, rising with rage.
She stammered,
"I—I didn't—It's not what it looks like—"
He lunged at her.
His hands gripped her shoulders and shook her violently.
"YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTER!"
She screamed as guests rushed forward to pull him back.
"LET ME GO!"
He roared, tears streaming from his face.
"SHE KILLED MY BABY!"
The room was in chaos—
Grief, betrayal, shock.
Cops were called.
The video—
Cold, undeniable—
Served as the final word.
She was arrested on the spot, led away in handcuffs.
Her daughter, stunned, sobbed into the arms of a relative.
The father stood motionless in the hallway, the tape still playing in the background—
His daughter's voice laughing once more in the distant memory.
Cole walked quietly back to the front yard, the weight of what he'd just done still settling in his chest.
The sky above was overcast now, clouds rolling in as if to mourn what had been uncovered.
On the porch swing sat the ghost girl's younger sister—
The same one he'd seen earlier, staring blankly at the grass, clutching her knees.
She hadn't moved since he went inside.
Cole approached slowly.
She looked up, eyes tired and sad.
Without saying a word, he pulled something from his jacket pocket—
A small, worn-out stuffed puppet girl with one ear flopped downward.
He held it out.
"She wanted you to have this."
He said gently.
"Your sister… said it was your favourite."
The girl's eyes widened as she slowly took the toy in her hands.
Her fingers traced the fabric like it was something sacred.
Then her voice, soft and hesitant.
"Does that mean… I won't ever see her again?"
Behind Cole, the doctor—
The ghost who still didn't know he was one—
Spoke up.
"She's gone to heaven, little one. Somewhere peaceful."
But the girl didn't respond to him.
She kept her eyes on Cole.
Cole hesitated for a moment… then knelt to her level, meeting her gaze.
"She's okay now."
He said, voice steady.
"She's not hurting anymore. And she's watching over you."
The little girl blinked, then gave a tiny nod.
Nod~
One tear rolled down her cheek, but she wasn't crying—
Not really.
Just letting go.
She stood, cradling the doll close to her chest, and turned without another word.
Her small figure disappeared into the house as the screen door creaked shut behind her.
Cole remained on the porch a moment longer, staring at the empty swing swaying gently in the breeze.
The quiet hum of conversation among the guests was interrupted by the sudden screech of tires.
A familiar silver sedan rolled to a stop at the edge of the street, its headlights slicing through the early evening gloom.
Cole froze.
"____"
His face drained of colour.
"…Mom,"
He whispered, backing a step away from the porch.
The driver's side door swung open, and Lynn Sear stepped out in a panic, followed closely by Jenny, Lorraine, and Leah, who had arrived in a separate car just moments before.
Lynn's eyes locked onto her son—
And relief crashed over her like a tidal wave.
"Cole!"
She cried, rushing toward him.
Cole stood rooted to the spot, guilt flooding his features.
"I-I didn't mean to run off,"
He stammered.
"I just… she needed help."
Leah stepped beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"We know. We tracked you using nearby surveillance feeds."
Jenny gave him a faint nod.
Nod~
"You did good, Cole. Real good. But next time… tell someone."
Lynn dropped to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around her son, trembling with emotion.
"Don't ever scare me like that again."
She whispered into his hair.
"I'm sorry,"
He mumbled, eyes wet.
"But I had to help her."
Jenny glanced at the house behind them, at the curious faces in the windows and the rippling silence among the mourners.
Her expression softened.
"He did more than help. He gave closure to a family that didn't even know they needed it."
Lorraine, ever the quiet observer, spoke up.
"He's braver than most grown men I've seen."
The wind shifted slightly, rustling the trees lining the street.
Somewhere above, a faint warmth seemed to linger—
As if the spirit who had passed on was watching, at peace now.
Jenny stepped forward and knelt beside Lynn.
"Your son's gift is not a curse. Not anymore. It's a responsibility—but with the right guidance, he can use it to change lives."
Lynn's arms tightened around Cole.
For a long moment, she didn't say a word.
Then quietly.
"I believe you."
**********************************************************************************************************************************************************
(Author's POV)
(A/N):
Thanks for reading the chapter!
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