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Then - September 22 2012

From the window I heard a chuckle, with no humour,or even any inflection in it. "Your turning into me Johanna." I turned and looked at her trying to see past her to the trees but she seemed to be blocking out any view I might have had fromthe window. My mother caught me looking and followed my line of gaze. I held my breath and waited for her to see the grotesque figure in the window.

But she just turned to me and smiled, a fake smile I could see all the way through. "Do you like looking out the window? The sight is very pretty isn't it?" She turned back to the window and appeared to actually be looking out of it. I was speechless. Could she not see her?

Then it hit me.

She couldn't see her. Nobody could. Nobody except me.

My mum had long since turned her head to look back at me. I was just staring vacantly at her and I could see her smile beginning to crack. I tried to cover up the fact that I had just been sitting there staring at her like she was mad. "Uh. . ." I trailed off. My mother looked at me with a sad and worried face. If I hadn't wanted to die before I certainly did now.

She reached fro my hand again and my reflexs were so slow after my little realisation that I didn't have time to pull it away. She tried to look into my eyes too but I fussed with the loose thread on my hospital blanket with my spare hand and gave it all of my attention. I heard her sigh heavily. "You've had a rough few days, Jo, and if there's anything-"

I spun my head to look at her and spoke so savagely she flinched. "I don't want to talk about it." I yanked my hand from hers visciously and turned away from her, squeezing my eyes tight shut so I  didn't have to face Amber sitting in the window.

I flet my mum touch my back gently. I ignored her. She carried on anyway. "Honey, if you don't want to talk to me, there are grief counsellers-"

I turned back towards her. "I don't want to talk to anyone."

My mum sat back and blinked, obviously taken aback by my outburst. She recovered herself fairly quickly but she still looked nervous. She tried another, more safe line of enquiry. "So," she said brightly. "How are you liking it here?" She said it like I was staying in a fancy 5 star hotel where I was getting spa treatments and cavier withe champagne for breakfast. I just looked at her.

"It's a hospital," I said. She looked at me. "I'm recovering from a near fatal stab wound." She stared at me, like none of this made any sense. After several seconds of the blank staring without a reaction I decided it might be best to humour her so I looked around. It was simple white walls  with a window which was always occupied by a permanent visitor I wished I didn't have. I couldn't tell her that. She'd lock me up in a menatl institute.  It had the heart monitor and drip and everything too, but I don't know if that counted. So I just turned back to her and shrugged my shoulders helplessly. "It's just a hospital," I repeated.

She turned to me, in a daze. Then a suddenly as she had entered it she snapped out of it and plastered a smile back on her face. "The doctors said that we could get you onto a ward soon." I just stared at her, her fake cheerfulness not washing on me.

"What did you come here for mum?" My mum looked shocked and hurt and it was only then that I registered that it was me that had said those words. I was as shocked as she was. I couldn't believe that I had said those words. I was never rude like that to my mother. Never.

She blinked and looked at me, her model daughter who was suddenly flipping out at her. I guess she rationalised it in her head that I was going through a period of grief and this sort of behaviour was acceptable. "Well . . ." she said. Whatever ti was couldn't be good if she didn't want to say it. "The thing is, Jo, Amber's. . ." she trailed off again and checked how I was doing. I had frozen when she said the word Amber but I hadn't really reacted yet. She took this as a good sign so she carried on. Little did she know that there was a psychopathic dead girl sitting on the windowsill, listening to her every word.

"The thing is . . . well I came to tell you . . . Amber's funeral is next week." I sat there, dumbly, while to my left Amber flipped out. She stood up and let out a high-pitched hysterical scream and turned to us with anger in her eyes. I looked at my mum to see if she could hear but she was just gazing at me. She was waiting for me to say something. Meanwhile, Amber was shouting at me.

"You're being allowed to go to the funeral?" She was absolutely livid. If dead people could go red, she would be bright puce. I looked at her, then back at my mum, torn betwen who I should answer. If I answered Amber, mum would think I was mad. If I answered mum Amber would most definately try to kill me for ignoring her.

In the end Amber saved me the choice. She suddenly calmed down, just deflating. I turned and looked at her. She was staring at me with a mixture of incredulity and hatred, the first proper expression she'd ever worn. "She doesn't know?" I looked at her for a few seconds hoping that this was enough for her to deduce that she did not know. She just looked at me and turned away back to her window.

I turned back to my mother. "Jo?" she said tentatively. I felt so drained all of a sudden. i just lay back on my bed, grabbing the seating buttons and pushing the recline button. I closed my eyes and sighed. I finally registered my throbbing stomach telling me I had over done it. My mum reached for my hand and this time I let her grab it. "Jo?"

"When is it?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Exactly a week today." I sighed. No time. I heard Amber gasp in the corner.

"Is there . . ." I paused and swallowed hard. "Is there anything you need me to do for it?" I said, turning to look at her. I didn't bother with sitting up. It was too much effort and would hurt my stomach.

My mum looked sad and stared, at me rubbing my hand slowly across the top with her thumb. "No sweetie, Ambers mum is handling everything. She thought it would be best to leave you to rest. You've been through a lot these past couple of days." I stared at her.

"Jilly?" I said, dumbstruck. She nodded. "Did you agree that I needed to rest?" She looked uncomfortable. I attempted to sit up and failed. "Did you?"

She sighed. "I didn't have much say in the matter," she said eventually.  "You know me and Jilly have never seen eye to eye. She didn't really give me a choice without making me look like bad mother." I looked at her, suddenly angry with Amber's mum. I'd never liked her anyway.

"I can't believe Jilly's arranging the funeral. She never knew Amber as well as I did. She'll do it all wrong." My mother looked at me with sympathy in her eyes.

"I know sweetie, but there's not much we can do about it now. Just you rest now. Things will look better in the morning." I doubted it, but I smiled absently anyway as she brushed her lips over my forehead and left the room.

After she left, I lay there, drifting into the lovely land of nod. I was nearly there when a voice jerked me from my half-sleep. "I can't believe you havn't told anyone." I shut my eyes and willed her to go away. She didn't. "My mum knows, though," she continued annoyingly. It was the first time I'd felt anything but fear towards her. "That's why she's not letting you organise the funeral."

I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling, anger at my so-called friend finally starting to appear. "Just shut up Amber." And, bizarrely, she did. I turned to the window. She wasn't there. Neither were the bloodstains.

And, as I watched the sun begin to fade behind the trees I could now see clearly through the no longer obscured window, I wondered if it would always be this easy to get rid of her.

If only.