Chapter 2

   Later that night, the McDonagh couple were gripped in fear as Helen's condition continued to worsen. She was as cold as ice, shivering profusely with a pale-looking face. Joshua, her father, tried calling the numbers of doctors he knew, but the ones that went through would not answer his calls. Chelsea, Helen's mother, on her part, had warmed up a towel in warm water she prepared immediately they got home, and pressed it on Helen's forehead, with the hope of seeing some improvement. The two sat beside Helen for almost three hours, observing for positive changes until the clock struck at eleven later that night. Helen sat up on the bed with her back resting on the pillow that separated her back from the wall, and rubbing their shoulders gently to wake them from their quick doze, "You're supposed to be taking of me" she said breathing out heavily. Their joy was quickly restored, as they wrapped their arms around her and with tears of joy, slithering gently down their cheeks. "Easy," Helen said in a whisper, "my body hurts a little." They loosened the tightness of the hug, and searched their minds for bedtime stories that were capable of luring her to sleep, so she could have some rest. The next morning came in quite beautifully like every other morning, but the McDonagh's prepared, not for school or work, instead, to go see a doctor and get answers for what happened to Helen.

     At the hospital, as the doctor listened carefully to what they told him about what happened, he requested to have some time alone with her and asked Helen several questions as a way of examining her. After a few minutes of getting confused himself, he declared that Helen had experienced a traumatic episode. He explained that such episodes can be caused by stress, fear, or other emotional factors. "May I have a word or two with you privately please?" The doctor asked Helen's parents. Helen got up and walked outside to find a seat in the waiting room, without being asked. "Sorry," the doctor apologized to the couple as they resat, "it's best she doesn't hear this, it could affect her. Due to her condition now, you must be careful what conversations you have with her. Keep out of your conversations anything that has the potential of frightening her. There will be times she will bring up conversations related to scary things, it's typical of children, but whatever it is, be careful what you make her believe, because what she hears from you is what she believes, and that, creates the mental images she sees. Also, if you haven't been doing so before, I suggest that you encourage her to participate in outdoor activities, join a sports team, or pursue any other hobbies she enjoys. It's my advice that you keep a close eye on her, and to seek help if you notice any changes in her behaviour or mood." "Thank you for your advice Doctor." Mr and Mrs McDonagh said to him, as they shook his hands and said their goodbyes.

       After their meeting with the doctor, Helen's parents gave a call to her school and explained Helen's condition to the teachers. They requested for the teachers to be patient and understanding with Helen, in order to help her recover much faster. They also asked that the teachers would keep close eyes on her, and help her if she needed anything. The next day at school, Helen was the subject of much gossip. News about her claiming she saw a ghost spread like wildfire. Her classmates teased her, calling her a freak and an insane person for thinking she had seen a ghost. She felt embarrassed and alone, but she tried to ignore the teasing. She got herself a corner in the library where she read stories and history books, with the hope of finding refuge in them, but anytime she lifted up her head, there was somebody pointing at her and another whispering. During recess, one of her classmates, a boy named Jack, approached her. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked. "I heard what happened. Don't listen to those guys, they're just being mean." Helen was surprised by his kindness. "Thanks, Jack," she said. "It was really scary." "I believe you," Jack said. "My grandmother used to see ghosts all the time. She said they were just lost souls looking for a way home." "Really?" Helen asked, a little curious. "Yeah," Jack answered, "she was a ghost whisperer, but don't those that didn't understand her gift, called a freak and a witch." "Ohh, sorry." Helen sniffled. "Can I meet her?" "Do you think that's a good idea?" Jack asked in return. "Yeah," Helen responded innocently, "maybe she can help me." "Okay Helen, we can go to my house on Friday." Jack assured. Helen felt grateful for Jack's support, the thought that at least someone believes what she saw meant a lot to her. "I wish my parents saw what I saw, and not think me crazy." She said, desperation written all over her face. "Do you know who trusts you more?" A familiar voice said from behind her, then she felt arms being wrapped around her neck and a kiss delivered to her cheek "your bestie." The person added. "Stephanie!" Helen beamed out in surprised. "I thought you-" "Were going to leave my best friend's side when she needed me the most?" Stephanie completed the sentence in her own words. "Of course not." "Awwn, thank you." She said, resting her head on Stephanie's arms which were around her neck. The conversation finally changed into something not ghost related thanks to Stephanie, and as time passed, Helen's fear subsided, she started to feel better again until she got home later that day.

     Unlike any other day, she didn't spend her evening at Stephanie's, instead, her parents came to pick her up, for they had asked for a break from their respective jobs. During a conversation between her parents, she decided to go out and play on her own until they were done. She was holding her father's baseball which fell off her palm as she got up, she watched as it rolled towards the door and followed it gently. When she bent to pick it up, she noticed a white handkerchief outside, being carried up in a whirlwind, she was pleased by the scene and wanted a closer look at it, as she stood up and was about to run outside, she was interrupted by a strange noise coming from the attic. She climbed up the ladder and saw a ghostly figure standing at the other end of the room, it looked like a female in a white dress with her face in her palm, sitting on the edge of a bed which wasn't supposed to be there. Helen ducked slowly to have a clear view, she realized the person looked a lot like her but was way older and taller than she was, and also she appeared to be crying. "Mom!" Helen called out, "We have a guest." "Who is it?" Her mother shouted back, she quickly summarized her conversation with her husband, to attend to the guest. Back in the attic, Helen was about to ask the young woman her name when immediately, the young woman looked up at her with imminent red eyes, like that of a person who had been crying endlessly for hours, her forehead appeared to be wounded and was dripping with blood. "Helen!" Helen heard from a voice she couldn't recognize but whoever spoke her name felt close, almost too close that Helen could feel the person's dress caress hers, as she looked up, in a blink of an eye, the young lady sitting on a strange mattress about twenty meters away was standing next to her. Involuntarily, Helen yelled out as loudly as she could, forcing her parents to race in her direction. "It's okay, Helen," her father said. "We're here. It was just your imagination. Easy honey." "It's not my imagination" she cried out, her whole body shivering. "I swear she was here. She was over there and over here. She is everywhere." "It's okay honey," her mother assured, "I believe you." "I'm speaking the truth Mom." Helen replied with a wavering voice as she hugged her mother tightly. "Calm down honey," her Dad advised, "why don't we three go play outside. We could build a kite and fly it across the sky." "She was wearing white" Helen said as she sniffed in hard, letting go off her mother and shifting her eyes to the floor to stare at her slippers. "She had been crying. Her some part of her dress was torn," "Helen, please." Her mother tried to interrupt, but she would not stop but give her description to prove what she saw. "She had blood on her forehead, methinks she hit her forehead hard. She knew my name, she looked like me and pronounced like I did. Who is she?" Helen asked, drying her tears and having a bold look on her face. "We will find out soon honey," her father said, "I promise." "Let's go fly kites baby." Her mother suggested, kissing Helen's cheek and taking her hand.