Shards of Black Glass (A Ghost Adventures Story)

Sky of Black and Silver

"Scars?" Billy says quietly; I jump, having forgotten that the two of them sat just a few feet away. "Yeah," I mutter, looking at Saira's arm, which I realize now is bare, the long black sleeve rolled up to reveal her pale, scarred skin. Billy looks sad while Jay looks slightly curious and slightly disgusted. "It's a story for her to tell. I won't reveal secrets she holds," I say to fill the uncomfortable silence that fills the room. Thankfully, that silence is broken again as Aaron walks into the room.

He hands me the black book, then goes back to his place against the wall. I open the book to the page I marked yesterday afternoon, when I started reading the book after leaving Saira's room. My eyes scan across the page, the words not really registering in my mind. Billy and Jay turn back to their game, which Aaron joins in with.

I pause after a paragraph, then go back and read it again to make the words sink in. The page is marked with the date of June 4, 2004, instead of a page number. Saira's typed words gleam back at me from the white paper, and I breathe in the sweet scent of new paper and old leather. The smell brings back memories of childhood, when I devoured one book after another.

I'm so wrapped up in reading Saira's words that I don't realize that she's reading along with me until she murmurs,"Isabel didn't deserve to die like that either." I look over at her, and see her green eyes on the typed words of her book, which is more like a printed diary. "Isabel was nice, at least to everyone but me. That still doesn't make up for her to be beaten and hanged." I stare at Saira until she looks at me, then I quietly whisper,"You didn't stop them from hurting her?" Saira shakes her head slightly, and says,"If you keep reading, you'll know why."

I turn back to the book, and continue to read, a part of me relishing Saira's presence beside me while another part revolted at this blood-stained person's hand gripping mine. When I reach the end of the chapter, I sigh and look over at Saira, pity in my eyes.

"Don't, Zak. I don't need your pity," she says quietly but firmly. I gesture to the book, and whisper,"But this? Really? You were forced to watch her die, Saira. You didn't deserve to get a scar on your back for that." Saira's jade irises glimmer, and she says,"Maybe not, but one of them I did. Next chapter is about Justin, one of the ones who hurt Isabel. Died from blood loss. They found his body in the woods, in a cabin. They never found the killer." The utter calmness on her face and in her voice scares me, but I refuse to let my fear show.

Saira seems to detect my fear, though, because she says,"He deserved it. A death for a death. Maybe not the cleanest or sneakiest way to dispose of him, but I wanted to send a message to the others, and he was the one who hurt her the most. I may sound calm about all this, Zak, but inside I'm crying and whimpering and screaming. Their deaths, all of them, haunt me to this day. Ever since kindergarten, when I watched that girl get shot in the road by a passerby gangster. I need no pity, nor fear, nor hate. I live with enough of that, most of which is directed at myself."

Saira looks down at her arm, the scars lacing together in intricate patterns of black and red. The sight of her looking at the harm she did to herself reminds me of what the nurse said. "Saira, the nurse said that she signed you up for a therapist. She said that once you wake up you're supposed to go to him. She looked at your scars while I was asleep." Saira looks up at me, and says softly,"Maybe I need one. I considered another scar during my shower yesterday, you know. But, I knew somehow that you were coming soon after, so I refrained from doing so. I knew that the sight of blood would frighten you."

I blink at her, surprised that she cared not for her own blood loss and possible death, but for my dislike of blood. She smiles tiredly at me, and moves to pull her hand out of mine. I grip her hand tightly to stop her, and smile shyly when she looks at me with surprise. "Even though your past is dark," I whisper,"you can still make your future shine." She blinks, and her gaze unfocuses for a second. "Even broken glass can be glued back together. It may not always be as pretty afterward, but it is still mended." She blinks, refocusing her eyes, and looks at me.