The Lost And The Dead

I frustratingly brushed off with the back of my hand the blood that had dried on my white tank top as I walked down the street. It was my first day of work after returning from my two-week-long out of town, I was yet to lay my hands on the new piles of paper works that were probably dumped in my desk by now, but I was already drained so far. My morning had already been so dreadful because of this dark red taint on my left rib just below my breast. It was too horribly obvious I was afraid it would raise suspicion to others and triggered a 911 call; which of course was unnecessary. I'm not quite sure how exactly I got myself stained but I was having a good guessing in mind. Maybe the man I bumped into earlier must have smudged his arm or something against my clothes that bad that it left a mark, and there was no way I could possibly wipe it off. Before I could even utter a word, I was already taken aback by the stranger's disturbing figure as soon as I lifted my chin to face him. He was impossibly recognizable with all the thick blood that soaked his deformed face, his worn out clothes and decaying skin. For a couple of seconds he lifelessly just stood still before me, despite his empty sockets I could tell he was staring as if wanting his negative presence to register in my mind. Actually, I wasn't entirely scared, just a bit surprised by the sudden encounter. After all, it wasn't my first time running into a dead person's ghost. 

I was only seven when I started seeing unusual things that are invisible to the naked eyes. It all happened back in our old house in Virginia which my father inherited from my grandparents, and god knows how much I hated it. It was the place where I had no one to play with but that little girl Tracey who's always in her dirty white dress, her pale white skin was as dead as her scary eyes that I never wanted to look into. She would always watch me sleep at the foot of my bed at night and sometimes, she’d stand by the window and always scared me the way she’d slowly turn her head and glanced over her small shoulder. Every time I refused to play with her, she would take out her anger unto the wardrobe banging it from the inside and later, the door would throw open. There were other unwanted presence in the house with us that only I could see, and they liked to move things.  

I wasn't really terrified of them at all. Except for the white lady in the cellar whom I encountered one time when I came down by myself, looking for my ball. She first toyed with my curly blonde hair, sticking them out in every direction before the yellow dim lights died. And when it came back to life, all I could see was her pale face filled with popping blood vessels crawling all over it like deep roots, just an inch away from me. I could still remember her evil yellowish smile, her breath was that of a stinking dead rat. My heart raced in horror, draining every ounce of strength in my body that I couldn't even scream. If I didn't pass out and was found by my parents lying on the floor covered with bruises and blood spots under my skin, we would have never moved out. 

But later on I learned to live with it until seeing wandering souls almost every time and everywhere became normal. Only a few knew about my paranormal ability, those who wouldn’t easily jump off their seat or wet their pants if I told them to move aside and be nice to the invisible company next to them. It wasn’t really hard to distinguish real alive human beings from a lost soul although at times they mixed up with the crowd. Their intense cold stare would make your body shiver and they always seemed to be so distant, and then you’ll know. 

I remember one time when I spotted a little boy walking down the street all by himself from school, he carried on his back a school bag. He was a grade schooler and watching him attempting to cross the road unsupervised bothered me a lot, so I approached him and he gave me a sweet genuine smile. As we walked hand in hand he told me how much he loved his grandma whom he referred to as “nana” and his baby brother Tony. The bus took off without him but he wasn’t sad about it because he didn’t want to share a ride home with bullies anyway. 

“Goodbye Josh.” I waved at him from the driveway as he stood in the front porch. 

“Goodbye Lianie, thank you for walking me home. Take care.” Josh said before disappearing into the door. 

I started to walk when an unfamiliar husky voice called out from behind, stopping me from taking a step any farther. 

“Excuse me lady.” An old woman who was around mid sixties said. “What were you doing outside my house?”

“Oh, hi.” I smiled as I turned to face her. “I-uh just dropped off your grandson. He was on his way home all by himself because the bus took off without him.” I politely explained, wondering at the back of my head why she seemed unpleased and confused. The old woman was silent for a moment, her wrinkled face looked blank. I was about to say my farewell and just go on with my life without hearing at least a simple thank you, when she finally muttered. 

“What clothes is he wearing? What kind of backpack does he have?” 

“He was on a white baseball tee and black pants and uhm-” I paused, trying to recall what bag it was. “ And a Spiderman backpack.”

“You’re not messing around lady, are you?” 

Her statement made me have a puzzled look. “What? No, ma’am. I don’t see any good reason to mess with anything.” 

By that time, her weary eyes started to get damped and both sides let out heavy droplets of tears running down her flaccid cheeks. Right then and there I realized what I had been missing. 

“My grandson died a year ago, today marks the first year of his death. He was hit by a car on his way home. That day, he refused to take the bus because he was always bullied.” My heart sank hearing the sad news and the sight of his grandma crying in front of me. I comforted her in my open arms , then I stared at the porch where I last saw Josh waving and smiling. I knew that that day, his nana wasn’t alone at all.

*

I finally gave up trying to get rid of the bloodstain on my tank top and buttoned up my cardigan instead to conceal it as I hurried down the subway station. Even in the train there were still invisible passengers hitching a ride without the knowledge of those they were standing next to, and my day had already been pretty bad to be bothered by it. Although I still wasn’t ready at all to get back to work after spending a wonderful time with mom and dad in Oregon, I wasn’t planning to ditch my job unlike most of my colleagues. A peaceful ride going to the office and back like this was one of my favorite parts of the day apart from a goodnight sleep. It’s time like this that I get to relax and daydream about just anything while I wait for my stop. Odd it may seem but traveling by car fuels my enthusiasm, making my imaginations and ideas livelier. 

While I enjoyed the thirty-minute ride, lost into my own world and the thought of my aging parents who were so happy to have me in the house after so long again, I caught an uncanny feeling of being watched. A guy sitting from across looked more like someone who’d snatched your purse in any minute on his all-black outfit of a hoodie paired with a black sweat pants and Nike shoes which had a white checkmark on it, rather than a scary ghost. I slowly clutched my leather sling bag to my lap, having the worst judgement towards the stranger he was. 

Don’t you fucking dare or I will fucking scream and sew you. I thought to myself as I frowned at him. Either he was plainly stupid or I was over reacting, it’s just rude to stare at people. 

When the commuter train finally arrived at our destination and the doors hissed open to let us through, the guy was acting even more strange, keeping a good distance from me as we all prepared to exit. I glanced at him over my shoulder and found his head low as if trying to avoid eye contact. He surely didn’t look like a lost soul, no. Ghosts don't make you cautious over your belongings or your dear life for god’s sake. But there was this uneasiness written all over his face that troubled me a lot. As soon as I stepped out of the train, I then paced as fast as I could somewhere less crowded, making sure that I could get a good hold of him; by his collar would be better. 

Yes, that’s right I wasn’t planning at all to run or hide from this suspicious-looking stranger. I wanted to understand what was with the fidgetiness though.  

The subway had two passages, each for both entrance and exit. There was a flight of stairs facing the north section and another on the south. My way was on the north but since I overheard his phone call a while ago about him going to a place I knew the exit point was on the other side, I decided to take a detour and risked being late. Playing detective was like jeopardizing my own dear life and smashing a rock to my head myself. The fact that this part of the station was not well lit and at those hours only few used it was enough for me to brace for the worst. 

Arms crossed, I leaned my back against the concrete square pillar that stood just before the stairs going up, and waited for the perfect timing without exposing myself. Not long and I heard a soft thud on the floor indicating he was near. And right when he walked passed me, not noticing my presence, I then tailed from behind.

“Hey!” I scowled. He then quickly turned on his heels and jerked backward upon seeing me. 

Oh wow. What a stupid funny reaction ,huh?

“Do we have a problem? I saw how you looked at me like seriously alarming back in the train. Do I have to call 911?” I added, walking slowly closer to him. With this, he took a single step back as though moved by my words. I could see him trembling, confusing the hell out of me. 

“Y-y-you.” He cracked a shaky voice, taking his hand out of his hoodie pouch and pointed at me. As if in disbelief. 

“Talk.”

“Y-y-you...you can’t be real.”

“What?” My brows arched in complete frustration. This guy was seriously getting on my nerves. He looked at me from head to toe as if to validate my existence. 

“You are that girl on the news.” He mumbled. “ You were murdered and thrown into a pit meters away from your wrecked vehicle...you died a week ago.” 

All of a sudden I could feel the weight of the world upon my shoulders, sucking the life out of me. I felt my whole body drained even though I was yet to fully understand everything. 

What is he saying? 

“What?” I muttered. 

“ The police found you mercilessly stabbed and there was no way they could save you when they arrived.” He explained, showing me some photos from the news on his phone. I examined them myself and I saw...me. I saw me on the same white tank top and brown cardigan, lifelessly sprawled on the solid ground, bathe in my own blood. I was scared and silently prayed it was all just a dream; but no, it wasn’t.

"Three stab wounds on the left rib, two on the chest that critically went through the heart, and four on the lower back. There was also a sign of strangulation." It said in the article. Some of the photos showed police cars gathered around the crime scene with the blue and red lights illuminated in the vast darkness along the long stretch of California coastal highway. 

"Los Angeles PD found the dead body of 24 year old Lianie Hendrick who was recently reported missing." The headline announced.

Oh, my god. I was devastated. Why?! So, this was why all this time I couldn’t quite remember much of that day apart from the happy memories I shared with my parents. But why! Why!

It was only then that I felt excruciating pain all over me, emotionally and almost physically, it was as if my body had finally realized the feeling of all those wounds. Like a rushing wind, every little detail of the incident came back to me. It happened when I drove back to my apartment at three in the morning. My parents were worried sick of my early departure but I insisted on returning back to the city before the first rays of sunlight, afraid I might not have enough time to prepare for work. I was on my knees, weeping. I am way too young. Please not this way. 

I realized I was just like the little boy Josh who also didn’t make it home, just like me. Lost, and unaware of our own deaths. The pain was too unbearable, beyond words could explain. 

*

“May the lord God grant eternal life and peace to the beautiful soul of Lianie, the ever loving daughter and friend. Father, help us get through this storm and find the justice that we all seek.” The pastor gloomily said as he did the final blessing, towering over my lifeless body laid in a casket. I heard him loud and clear, yes. But none of his words were understandable to me. Everyone was weeping, their broken hearts mirrored in their bloodshot eyes. My heart shattered, torn into million pieces as I watched my mom and dad, devastated, endlessly crying their pain over the loss of their only child. A daughter whom they loved so much, and gave them a surprise visit just recently. A daughter who was taken away so young and without a warning. I kissed them both on the cheeks, hoping that somehow they’d feel me. Then, I rested my weary soul on my mother’s shoulder and grieved with them.