All she can do is stare at me. I collapse onto the closed toilet seat and a tear rolls down my face.
In the crowded bathroom stall, Skye puts her hand on me and says, “I’m sorry.”
She is not snarky this time. Her eyes move back and forth between the necklace and my face as if she is waiting for something.
“You may have been the last person I saw before I died and—”
“So I am being punished for that, Skye? Easy target to play with to make your afterlife a little more enjoyable?” I snap.
Ripping the chain from my neck, I aim it for her head. As expected, it slips through her body and onto the floor. The surge of pain hits me all at once.
“Nice try. You are going to want to put that back on,” she says, her voice echoing.
All my spikes were out in this bathroom.
With zero food in my stomach, who knows what I might say next? Each second that goes by where she is just staring at me makes me more enraged. My jaw tightens.
“Finish your damn sentence! Go on…” A stabbing pain hits me again. I wipe the remaining saltwater tears on my cheek.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
The last word rolls off her tongue with extra effort, like it physically costs her something to say it. Like admitting it out loud drains her.
“Your aunt said amazing things about you. You were vibrant, loud and talented.”
Skye starts to display a grin.
“I don’t see any of that…” I finish.
This was one big sick game and I’m tired of feeling like my life is on the verge of slipping out from under me. I’m not a toy to anyone anymore.
“Don’t push me away just because I am showing you everything in your life exactly as it is.” Her eyebrow is raised and she is only showing her side profile to me. Skye had a sweetheart face shape with large and defined brows.
She leans half her body against the stall door and stares off into space for a long pause, like every thought she’s ever had since she died is swirling in her mind.
“I am only twenty-four, Skye. I am doing just fine. My twenties are meant to be terrible,” I blurt out in a panic. It takes me a few moments to realize what I just said. Once it hits us, it doesn’t take long for both of us to turn silent.
As if we both hit each other’s sweet spot on what we could say to the other person to completely falter. We’re two girls fighting in a tiny bathroom stall. Everything feels paralyzing.
“And I was nineteen,” she says sharply. A fact I already knew, but it hits even more when she says it.
“Do you really not see what is happening here? What happens when you wear that?” Her jaw tightens.
At this moment, I can’t tell who or what she is talking about. The lull of the chant is starting up again— “duas almas incompletas”—and a rash forms over my neck as the pain persists.
“No, I don’t. I am just a girl visiting her boyfriend’s family, and I am a little overwhelmed. That is completely normal…” I cross my arms tighter.
“Have you stopped to ask the real questions? Why are you in pain right now, Charlotte? Why does the necklace never light up around Aidan? Why are you so blind to your life?”
The pain picks up again in my chest. It feels like at any moment I might burst. It physically hurts to move.
“Put the necklace back on!” She yells.
Leaning one hand against the stall, I wince, taking deep slow breaths before I can crawl to the necklace lying on the floor.
“Put it on. Take the toilet paper and wipe off your smeared mascara.” Within seconds, Skye disappears. I remain, defeated, sitting on the toilet seat, clasping the necklace back around my neck.
My cleavage buzzes.
