Writing on the Wall

My name is Lyra. I am 17. I don't remember my family, my friends or the boy I once loved. I only know one thing. I am dead.


5. Help

I stare at Callum and he stares back. No one speaks. No one moves. I am in shock. I thought no one could see me. Callum is the first to speak, " I honestly thought you were dead." My eyes fill with tears as I reply, "I am, I am now nothing but a spirit. But I need help. To find out how I died." Callum stares a me sadly. "You want me to help you." He was clever. He knew what my answer would be. "Yes."

He has a strange look in his eye. A look that seems to be a cross between sadness and guilt. But what did he have to be guilty about? He hadn't done anything wrong. But I don't know for sure. I have a burning question I need to ask him.

"How did it happen?"
He stares at me in astonishment. Or is he gazing through me? It's hard to tell. I ask again, "How did it happen?"

I see sadness in his eyes now. He is remembering. I can tell it pains him to recall it.
"Your parents were out. You were alone. You got a fatal blow to the head. The left of your forehead according to the police. They found your blood on a photoframe beside...your body."
I touch the side of my head as if expecting to feel blood there. There is nothing there but I can almost recall the feeling of blood running down my face. I get a sudden flashback. A flash of metal, something scarlet on my face, a sense of falling, then nothing. I see Callum eyeing me intently. "Do you remember?" he asks. I close my eyes and try to force the image back into my mind. But it slips from my grasp. Then I get a flash of my attacker. A girl. Someone familiar. Someone I know. I suddenly gasp and stare at Callum in horror. He is crying.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...