Making You See

Chapter Three - Fragile

"Lucy, are you okay?" A soft voice whispered, trying not to alarm her.

She gasped and jumped up into a sitting position, forgetting about her head. A cry of pain escaped her mouth and she burried her head in her heads, trying to support it and stop the pain. She didn't know who was in her apartment, but she also didn't care. Stopping the pain was more important to her than discovering who the intruder was.

"Lucy, it's me, Jon. Lucy, you need to get up. You hit your head on the sofa, you need to call someone, someone who can help you, a friend or something," Jon panicked. It was obvious from his reaction to her fall how much he cared about Lucy. He hated being helpless.

She lifted her head for a few seconds, the pain made her feel like she was getting hit in the head with a huge hammer, "You're not Jon, Jon's dead," she mumbled dumbly.

"Luce, I know. I know I'm dead. I was murdered. The police don't know who did it. I need your help Lucy," he tried explaining as quickly as possible knowing that she was reluctant to listen and believe a word that came out of his mouth, "Lucy, can you move yourself onto the sofa? I know it's going to hurt, but being on the floor, it's not good. It will make things worse."

She leaned back on her arms, trying to build up the strength to push herself up. The pain in her head was overpowering and made her want to curl up in a ball and cry. Lucy knew she had to be strong, crying was not being strong.

She groaned, "My head hurts." Her eyes flickered shut, trying to block out some of the pain.

"Lucy, please. I need your help, you're the only one who can help me."

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the pain ready to hit her. Her eyes glanced over to Jon who had a genuinely worried look plastered onto his pale, lost face. It gave her the last bit of encouragement she needed. He needed her help, that much was completely obvious just by looking at him. Slowly, he was gaining her trust and convincing her to believe him.

She hoisted herself up onto the sofa and curled up in a ball; cradling her throbbing head. It felt like her brain was about to explode with the pressure. It probably would have been more pleasent if someone had beaten her up for hours.

Jon waiting patiently for her to uncurl herself. He had started to get her to believe him and that was just enough for the time being. The next thing he needed to do was convince her to help him. However, the priority was Lucy and making sure she was alright, although there was nothing he, personally himself, could do to ease the pain. She needed a friend or someone to get some painkillers.

Tardily, she uncurled herself; sitting up to face and talk to Jon.

She took a deep breath, "How do you need my help?"

Jon stayed on the floor, but shuffled so his legs were out in front of him, bent and his arms were drooped over them.

"My murder. They can't solve it. They're going to give up," he explained.

"And where do I fit into this?"

He thought carefully about his answer, he had to choose his words carefully, if he gave away too much, she'd never agree to helping him, "You're the only one who can see me; that I know of. I don't know why, I thought it was because you've lost someone, you know, your dad, but my family and friends can't even see me..."

An image of Lucy's dad flashed into her mind. She remembered what he looked like perfectly, despite his death being years ago. The image in her head shattered and was replaced by a sneery, evil man. A man seen as her step father, someone she would never see him as or call him. She couldn't work out why, of all people, her mum chose him.

To Lucy; he was a way of her mum replacing her dad. His abusive traits and his drinking problem drove her out of the house. Her own mum chose someone she'd known for a few years over her own daughter. Something that Lucy was beginning to get use to, but hated her mother for. She couldn't work out how someone could choose a guy over family, but it's what her mum did and there was no taking that back.

"You want me to solve your murder? What do I look like? An investigator? The police?"

"I-" Jon began to say before a worried voice cut him off.

"Lucy?" A curious voice called from the front door.

Lucy recognised the voice immediately, it was Victoria, "I'm in here," she called out to her best friend. She had come at just the right time, to save Lucy from all the murder mystery nonsense.

"Oh my god, Luce, what happened? You're hurt!" She faffed about trying to make her friend comfortable.

Lucy winced in pain, "I'm fine, I just fell, how did you get in here?"

Victoria pretended to swat her friend around the head, "I've been your best friend for how long? I know where you keep your spare key. Was someone else here?" She looked around curiously, "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

Her conversation with Jon was brought to the surface of her memories when she was asked if anyone was here. Did he really expect her to be able to solve something the police couldn't? She was eighteen and only just finished her A Levels, not a train police investigator.

Jon had disappeared at the sound of Victoria's voice. He didn't even need to, she couldn't see him. Maybe if she could, Lucy wouldn't be alone in all this. It would be impossible to get her best friend to believe she was talking to a dead guy who wanted her help. It sounded completely crazy. It was completely crazy

Lucy shook her head, blatantly lying to her best friend. She had forgotten about the horrendous pain when moving her head. She screamed, flinging her head forward and covering her face in her hands.

When she looked back up, Victoria had rushed out the room and was rummaging through the cupboards, looking for any kind of painkiller.

Jon had returned as Victoria left. He was trying to put his arm around her to comfort her. He whispered three simple words that they'd both heard time and time again when people thought they really liked someone and mistook it for love.

As quick as he appeared, he was gone. Where he had his arm around Lucy, it left a weird tingly feeling. It felt like pins and needles, only not as harsh as painful, almost warming.

"Here take these," Victoria walked in holding tablets and a glass of cold water.

The same three words kept playing through Lucy's mind. She was oblivious to Victoria entering the room again. She was busy trying to work out whether she had imagined the whole conversation with Jon or not. It was unreal, impossible, but real and amazing all at the same time.