Fatin doesn't know how to comfort people, not really. She's been on her own for so long that she's forgotten how it's supposed to work. With her family, it's simple enough. Hugs for Kemar, who's always been a little sensitive. Bribes for Ahmad, who's a lot more conniving than he lets on. Her dad is pretty laid-back, but on his off days, a joke will get his mind off whatever it is that has him irritated. Her mom, on the other hand, is an iron wall. Fatin's never seen her cry, not even at her nani's funeral last year.
But now she's sitting across from Leah, who's looking at her like she holds her heart in her hands.
And in a way, she does. Fatin had taken hold of Leah's hands instinctively. Whenever her own hands hurt from playing for hours on end, she runs them under ice cold water until the sharp ache recedes into something duller, easier to bear.
(Her mom used to sit her down in the living room and refuse to let Fatin go to sleep without applying menthol cream after rehearsals. They talked about anything and everything in those early days, back when Fatin looked forward to playing in front of a crowd. Planning family vacations, scheduling their next spa day, discussing what to do for Kemar's birthday...
But that was before.)
In the absence of words, Fatin rubs soothing circles around Leah's knuckles. She tries to remember the patterns her mom had first traced years ago, and does her best to replicate them now. It seems to work because eventually, Leah's quick, unsteady breaths even out.
Fatin taps Leah's knuckles twice before letting go. Leah glances at the door, and then at her. The question goes unspoken but it's obvious: Are you leaving?
Fatin's quick to reassure Leah, placing a hand on her knee. Not a chance.
Leah nods, but retreats into herself anyway. Her gaze drops and she starts twisting her wristwatch, needing something to keep herself occupied. In response, Fatin moves swiftly to the door to let Gideon inside. He makes a beeline for Leah, startling her by jumping onto the bed. Fatin only leaves the room once she sees Leah relax against Gideon, holding him close as he curls into her side.
Fatin makes her way downstairs as quietly as she can. She doesn't run into anyone on her way to the kitchen, where she fills a glass of water and stuffs a couple of tissues into her pocket for good measure. She's so focused on where she's going that she doesn't notice the end table until it's too late.
Fatin's foot catches on one of the legs, water sloshing over the rim of the cup as she scrambles to steady the table before it tips over. One of the picture frames teeters over the edge and falls to the floor. "Shit," she hisses under her breath. Fatin picks it up, flipping it over to see the photo.
It's of Leah and another girl wearing swimsuits, the background of a sunny beach day spread out behind them. They look young, maybe around ten or so. Leah's smiling wider than Fatin's ever seen her, both arms wrapped tight around the mystery girl's arm.
"Fatin, do you need something?"
Fatin jolts, straightening her posture immediately. She looks up to see Maryann standing across from her, and reflexively takes a step back. Was everyone in this family freakishly silent? "Oh no, I'm alright. Thanks."
Maryann quirks an eyebrow, glancing at the wet spot on the rug. "Not even a refill?"
Fatin glances at the now empty glass in her hand. "Ah."
Maryann holds out a hand expectantly, and Fatin sheepishly hands over the glass. "Thanks."
"Of course." Maryann smiles. "Don't hesitate to ask if there's anything else you need."
Fatin nods. She looks down at the picture of Leah again and can't help but ask, "Where was this taken?"
A shadow falls over Maryann's face as she registers the photo. She examines it closely, lips pressed thin. "Angel's Island, 2012."
Fatin's body goes cold. "Cool," she replies, doing her best to keep her voice neutral. "I've never been."
"Leah and Emily loved it. The bumpy boat ride, hiking the trails, playing on the beach..." Maryann trails off offhandedly, staring at the picture. "We took them every summer. But we haven't been back since-" she cuts herself off, growing strangely still. "Nevermind that. Let's get you that refill."
Maryann turns away and Fatin places the frame back on the table, completely unnerved.
---
Fatin knocks on Leah's bedroom door twice, and waits.
"Come in."
Fatin opens the door slowly, and she's relieved to see Leah smiling again, petting Gideon's head from where he rests in her lap. "Feeling better?"
Leah looks up and shrugs. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but no longer watery. "I guess."
"Here." Fatin hands her a glass of water, and empties her pockets of tissues, tossing them on the bed. "And just in case."
Leah takes one to blow her nose and another to wipe away dried tear tracks on her face. She tosses them into the trash can next to the bed, and then she empties half the glass of water in one big gulp. She coughs hard to clear her throat, and Fatin reaches as if to pat her on the back, but falters when Leah stops.
"Thanks," Leah rubs a hand over her face, "I needed that."
"No prob." Fatin takes the glass from Leah and sets it on the floor, next to their forgotten drinks. "So... not to like, kill the mood but..."
Leah's smile fades. "We should probably talk."
"Yeah." Fatin is reluctant to start the conversation, but there's no more use in putting it off any longer. "Everything just got way more complicated."
"You don't even know half of it."
"Jesus, there's more?"
Leah gets up and grabs her laptop from the desk instead of answering. She sits down next to Fatin and shows her the screen.
The first thing Fatin registers is a group of middle aged white women standing together, dressed in formal wear. She frowns. "Is this like your family reunion or something?" Leah sighs and taps the screen. Fatin follows the movement, and her jaw drops.
Above the women hangs a pink banner that reads EDEN INAUGURAL DINNER in gold lettering. Leah enlarges the screen over a woman that looks vaguely familiar.
Fatin stares at the woman. Blonde hair is worn in loose curls around her shoulders and she wears a black floral dress. It takes a moment for Fatin to place her. Unlike the framed photo of Ms Wolfe displayed at her memorial, there's no gray hair and she's not wearing any glasses.
"What the fuck?"
"She was in on it," Leah says, tapping the screen again. "That's why she sent Jeanette to the retreat."
Fatin's stomach churns as she stares at the photo, reality sinking in. Ms Wolfe had been Jeanette's lifeline in the afterlife, and the one responsible for her death. Not wanting to believe it doesn't make it any less true. "Yeah, no fucking shit." She turns to Leah, unable to face the screen any longer. "You think Jeanette ever found out?"
"I don't know." Leah bites her lip. "I doubt Ms Wolfe could've kept it from her for so long. She was a terrible liar. You could always see right through her."
Fatin nods. "Sounds like someone else I know."
Leah either doesn't hear her or ignores the comment, continuing, "But if she did know, I don't know how Jeanette could've ever forgiven her."
"She does seem the type to hold grudges."
"This is a lot bigger than kicking down her front door, Fatin." Leah holds up her laptop as if to demonstrate. Fatin closes it with one hand and places it on the bed next to Gideon. Leah's not deterred in the slightest, "This photo was the only thing I could find about EDEN on the Internet. Not only were they able to cover up Jeanette's death, but they hid their own tracks too."
Fatin frowns. Trying to help Jeanette is daunting enough without throwing an unhinged organization into the mix. "One problem at a time. Let's put EDEN aside for a moment. We need to think about what to do about Jeanette first. Last time we couldn't even talk to her."
"No," Leah shakes her head, "I got through to her, and I can do it again"
Fatin doesn't doubt that. Mirror gazing worked, but that doesn't mean it didn't cost Leah something. "Are you sure?"
"She showed me her memories. She trusts me."
Not what I meant, Fatin thinks. But she's learned by now that Leah's not the type to give up on something, no matter how reckless it is. She decides it's better to agree and make sure to keep an eye on her than waste more time arguing. "Okay, fine. We'll go again on Saturday."
"No. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Fatin gives her a bewildered look. "That's way too fucking soon, and I'm not even free, you know that."
"I'll be fine," Leah insists.
"You don't know that." There was a period of time where Fatin wasn't sure if Leah was ever going to wake up again, and she's not putting either of them through that again. "Besides, Jeanette's not going anywhere,"
Leah scoffs, "Jeanette's spent seven years stuck here."
Fatin might feel bad for Jeanette, but the reminder is nowhere near convincing enough to sway her. "She can wait one more week."
"I'm not letting her wait any longer."
"I'm not letting you go alone," Fatin counters.
Leah sets her jaw, resolute. "I do what I want."
Fatin holds up a finger, irritation bleeding into her tone when she says, "First off, that's my catchphrase, not yours." She leans forward, using the same finger to poke Leah on the forehead. "Second, considering what happened last time you tried to talk to her, going alone is flat out stupid."
Leah scowls. "You can't dictate my every move, Fatin."
"Stopping you from doing dumb shit isn't controlling you." It's protecting you, but she doesn't say that last part out loud. "Just wait until the end of the week, okay? By then I'll have the ouija board and seance stuff so you don't need to do the mirror thing again."
Leah stares at her, and Fatin doesn't like the look in her eyes at all. "Fine."
Fatin doesn't believe Leah will listen to her for a second. But she doesn't press any further. Leah had given her a brief description of Jeanette's death, and she understands now that seeing it for herself changed things.
She might not be able to stop Leah from going tomorrow, but she knows someone who can.
---
Monday November 7th, 2019
Fatin knows where Leah eats lunch. She has for about a week now. After all, it's pretty hard not to notice someone staring at you across the courtyard, and Leah is anything but discreet.
Fatin waits until Leah leaves the lunch table before making her way over to where Ian's sipping a box of apple juice, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. "Ian, right?"
Ian looks up from his phone and chokes on his drink the moment he sees her. It takes him a minute to cough and clear his throat. Once he does, he blurts out, "You're Fatin Jadmani."
Fatin takes a moment to evaluate him, since the last time she saw Ian, she'd been doing everything in her power to stay the hell away from him. She takes note of the unkempt hair, the lack of visible eyelashes, and the glob of peanut butter sticking to his shirt collar.
Beyond that, the rigid set of his shoulders paired with the wary look in his eyes. Despite his nervousness, he doesn't shy away in her presence. Instead, he meets her gaze head on. It's for that reason she decides it makes sense he's friends with Leah.
"We've met." Fatin inclines her head to the nearby Music Department building. "Follow me."
Ian gets up automatically, though he pauses when he realizes he's standing. "If you're looking for Leah-"
"I'm not," Fatin answers curtly. She turns and starts walking away.
Ian scrambles to fall into step with her. "Oh." He shoves his hands into his pockets. "Did you guys get into a fight or something?"
"No, Leah's just being stubborn." She pushes open the double doors leading inside the building, Ian right behind her.
"About what?"
There's two people coming down the hallway, so Fatin grabs him by the elbow and shoves him into the nearest classroom. She closes the door behind them, and leans against it. She only relaxes when the people outside have passed by.
Fatin glances at him. "How much has she told you about," she hesitates, not wanting to give away too much all at once, "our partnership."
She's expecting flat out confusion, since Leah never mentioned telling Ian about any of this. So she's taken aback when he simply grins and says, "Is that what they're calling it these days?"
Fatin rolls her eyes. She hates it when people beat around the bush instead of just saying what they really mean. "Calling what?"
Ian laughs. "Don't worry about it."
Fatin narrows her eyes at him. She could push him for details, but unfortunately she has more important things to take care of. "Sure. Whatever." She sighs. "If Leah hasn't filled you in, I guess I'll have to."
Ian's smile slides into a frown. "Okay?"
Fatin places a hand on her hip, and decides to just come out with it. "We've been trying to exorcise a ghost the past week. Leah wants to see her after school, and refuses to wait for me. So I need you to stop her from going alone."
Ian stares blankly at her, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Fatin to elbow him and say, "I'm just fucking with you."
Only she doesn't.
She snaps her fingers in his face instead. "Hey, Wonder Bread!" Ian blinks, shaking himself out of his stupor. Fatin levels him with a serious look. "Pay attention. This is important."
---
Fatin ends up spending the rest of lunch recapping their encounters with Jeanette and explaining their most recent findings. He doesn't believe her at first, but after showing him Jeanette's obituary, Ms Wolfe's article, and footage saved on her phone from investigating the haunted house, he finally acquiesces.
Unfortunately, catching up with Ian also means she doesn't get to eat her packed lunch. She's itching to stop by a vending machine on the way to class, but before she exits the classroom, he calls out her name.
"What?" Fatin's hand lingers on the door handle. "I don't give a shit about missing the first ten minutes of History, but I really don't have time for detention right now."
Ian surprises her again by apologizing, of all things. "I'm sorry."
Fatin drops her hand, turning fully around. "For what."
He looks away. "Let's just say I didn't have the best impression of you when we first met."
While disappointing, that revelation is somewhat less surprising. She's aware of her reputation, and what people tend to assume about her. "You and everyone else." Fatin shrugs. "Don't worry about it, I have too much on my plate to bother holding any grudges."
Ian nods, accepting it easily. "Well, regardless." He finally meets her eyes, and she knows that whatever he says next will probably be too sentimental for her taste. Fatin inwardly braces herself because he smiles again, sincerely this time. "Thanks for looking out for Leah. You're a good friend."
Aaand, bracing herself doesn't work because his words still end up winding her anyway. Fatin opens her mouth to say... something. Anything. Whatever it is, she knows it'll sound off because she hasn't had a friend outside her family since she was 13.
Thankfully, she's saved from having to respond by the warning bell. Fatin wastes zero time ditching Ian, already out of breath in the time it takes for the door to swing shut behind her. She takes off down the hallway, trying and failing to place her thoughts on a high shelf in the back of her mind.
Because the truth is, she cares about Leah in a way she hasn't cared about anyone in years, and she doesn't know how to handle it.
---
Rewind.
Friday October 28th, 2019
The first time Fatin notices her, she's sitting on the back porch of an abandoned house, dressed in a budget Halloween costume. She doesn't even know her name, only that she looks vaguely familiar, under the fake wig, questionable beard and oversized glasses.
She doesn't mean anything to Fatin, but Fatin still goes out of her way to help her save face. It's the least she can do, since the girl (Layla? She looks like a Layla.) looks miserable, and the reminder that she's wearing the ugliest outfit in a 10-mile radius would surely only make her feel worse.
So when they make eye contact, all Fatin says into her phone is: "Oh, ew. There's even a creepy old man here." She turns away, tuning out whatever Layla replies. She's pretty good at filtering out anything she doesn't care to hear, in large part thanks to her mother.
"Are you okay?" her hookup asks from the other end of the line. She thinks his name is Blair, but he's saved into her phone as berkeley wrestler, and that's all she needs to know.
Fatin is quick to brush off his concern; she's running on the clock here. "I'm fine, I have pepper spray on me. Anyway, where are you?"
"My dorm."
Seriously? Could he be any more vague? Fatin rolls her eyes. "I can meet you there. Which hall?"
"It's-"
Whatever he says next is cut off by the dial tone sounding off. Fatin frowns and glances at her phone screen; the signal's dropped. And with it goes the only thing that could've saved tonight from being a total bust. Fuck.
"No service either?"
Fatin whirls around and does a double take when she sees her. The wig, beard and glasses have come off. Which, thank god. And Fatin isn't expecting much but underneath it all, she's pretty. And Fatin might be interested, if talking to girls isn't always more trouble than it's worth.
Normally, she'd walk away. But it's not like she has plans left for tonight. And, despite herself, she's still curious. "Who the fuck are you?"
---
Leah, she learns, doesn't know how to drive and doesn't have a car, but her friend Ian does.
"Can you help me lift him?" Leah calls through the window. "I can't do this on my own."
Fatin looks over her shoulder from her spot in the driver's seat. Ian's legs are sticking out of the car, hanging listlessly above the ground. She shrugs. "Just pull him through the other side."
"It'd be a lot easier if you just helped me out," Leah points out.
"For you, maybe." Regardless of whether or not she helps out, Leah will nag her anyway. Fatin figures it's better to not move a muscle when she doesn't have to.
Leah sighs. Loudly. Then she rounds the car and pulls Ian fully into the backseat, dragging him in by his arms.
"Perfect." Fatin checks her watch, frowning at the time. "Can you get the doors too?"
Leah closes both doors and throws herself into the passenger seat, glaring at Fatin. Well, Fatin assumes. She sounds annoyed, and Fatin's making a point to not make eye contact. She has a feeling Leah doesn't like being ignored, and gets a kick out of pushing her buttons.
Leah yanks the seatbelt over her shoulder and snaps it into place. "Just drive."
Fatin grins, and does just that.
---
Saturday October 29th, 2019
It's not until Leah disappears around the corner that Fatin remembers that it's going to rain today. She decides to wait outside Jeanette's house in her car, just in case it starts in the next few minutes. Fatin might be irritated with her, but she's not an asshole. She'll give Leah a ride home just this once, and never have to deal with her again.
Sure enough, she's been scrolling through Twitter for five minutes when the sky opens up to the sound of booming thunder. Fatin flips on her windshield wipers and pulls onto the road.
It doesn't take long to find her. The streets are empty except for Leah shivering next to a stop sign, looking for all intents and purposes like a lost puppy. But like, in an annoying way.
Fatin slows to a stop and rolls down the window. "Get in."
Leah wastes no time in flinging herself into the car.
And Fatin doesn't know it then, but offering to drive Leah home isn't the end.
It's the beginning of something bigger than either of them.
---
Monday October 31st, 2019
Fatin flops onto her bed, completely wiped out. In between the revelation that Jeanette's a fucking ghost (Saturday), making plans with Leah to return to the house (yesterday), and back to back practice (today), she's ready to pass out into oblivion. She's finally drifting off when the unmistakable sound of her mom's heels clicking down the hall stirs her fully awake.
"Fatin," Rana calls, opening the door without bothering to knock. "Come downstairs. Your brothers want to go trick-or-treating and you're taking them."
Fatin groans into her pillow.
Rana doesn't move from the door. "They're waiting for you."
Fatin allows herself ten more seconds of self-pity before propping herself up on her elbows to look at her mom. "I just got out of two hour solo practice. And before that was an ensemble meeting that went way over because the instructor couldn't pull the baton out of his ass-"
"Language."
"-so if you'll excuse me, I'll be going back to sleep."
Rana leans against the doorframe. Instead of chastising her, she calls for Kemar over her shoulder. "Your sister wants to see your costume!"
Pounding footsteps are the only warning before Kemar bursts into the room, striking a pose in front of the bed. He holds it long enough for Rana to politely clap, and Fatin thinks they've planned for this exact scenario. She's still ready to shoot him down, because nothing gets in between her need for sleep besides 5-hour energy drinks, but the moment he flips up his mask to beam at her, she's already lost.
"Hi Fatin!" He bounces on his feet, unable to contain his excitement. "We got a matching one for you too!"
Fatin smiles, as painful as it is, because seeing her brother happy makes her feel the same. "Lovely."
---
"You're not gonna wait in the car?" Ahmad asks when Fatin steps out onto the sidewalk.
"Nah," Fatin closes the door behind her, "I know someone who lives here."
"Who is it?" Kemar asks.
Fatin waves him off. "You don't know her."
"It's probably one of her teachers," Ahmad says. "I've never seen her talk to anyone else."
Fatin reaches forward and flips down his mask. "Cut the sass."
"But it's true!" he insists. Fatin flicks him between the eyes. "Ow." Ahmad pushes her hand away and lets out a drawn out sigh, "Ugh, fine."
Kemar takes his acquiescence as a signal to run up to the door. "Let's go!"
Ahmad and Fatin follow behind him at a more leisurely pace. Kemar's patient enough to wait for them but the moment Fatin's boot touches the patio, he rings the doorbell. She has to pull him back to stop him from ringing it again when the door doesn't immediately open.
And when it does, her brothers call out, "Trick-or-treat!"
They hold out their pumpkin-baskets expectantly towards Leah, but she's not even looking at them. Which is just as well, Fatin would be offended if she wasn't looking at her instead.
And Leah has a really stupid look on her face. Like she's genuinely happy to see her. Which is weird, because the last time they spoke, she hung up on her.
Leah grins. "Nice outfit."
Oh, right. As if Leah actually enjoys this interaction beyond making fun of her.
Fatin readjusts the mask threatening to fall from her head. "I'm wearing this monstrosity against my will."
---
Thursday November 3rd, 2019
It's been a few days since she last spoke to Leah. She's started to notice her around school but she's always with Ian, and never alone. So Fatin doesn't really feel like approaching her. And even if she did, what would they talk about? They already decided to visit Jeanette this weekend. Anything more than that would be unnecessary.
And yet.
Fatin picks up her phone.
(10:11 PM): hey
(10:11 PM): do u think pepper spray works on ghosts
---
Friday November 4th, 2019
Fatin's standing in front of her wall-length mirror, putting the finishing touches on her outfit, when Ahmad rushes into her room. "Fatin!"
She meets his eyes in the reflection. "What?"
"Mom got tickets to an advance screening of Frozen II."
"Cool." Fatin clips her last earring into place. "Have fun."
"You should come. Dad can't make it so..." Ahmad trails off, looking away.
Fatin presses her lips together. The news isn't anything surprising. Dad's been getting busier at work lately, which means less time with the family. Herself, her mom, and Ahmad have adjusted to it easily enough, but Kemar...
She walks over to him and ruffles his hair. "Hey." Ahmad looks at her expectantly, and she sighs, "Tell mom I'm driving."
He perks up. "She's not gonna like that."
"She can deal with it." Fatin scoffs, "She's 50 but she drives like she's 90."
From the bag over her shoulder, her phone buzzes with a notification, probably her hookup. She reaches inside to silence it, before following Ahmad out the door.
---
Saturday November 5th, 2019
Putting aside the fact that wandering around an actual haunted house in the middle of the night is creepy as fuck, Fatin's still having a good time. She's finally capturing film for her smash YouTube documentary debut and annoying Leah, knowing she looks good doing it.
(Even in a lumpy grandma cardigan.)
Fatin steps into what looks like Jeanette's old bedroom, if the hot pink wallpaper is anything to go by. "And here we have," she pans her camera around, capturing blank walls and moldy furniture, "an empty bedroom."
She moves towards the armoire, but pauses when she steps on something soft. She points her camera down to investigate. "Oh, and a stuffed animal. Riveting stuff, folks."
Fatin picks it up with her free hand, and examines it for a moment. It's an old Hello Kitty plushie, missing an eye and torn at the ear, but it's still cute. She considers what to do with it, thinking of the mountain of plushies falling off her bed back home. She glances at Jeanette's bed, stripped bare and covered in dust, and her smile fades.
The plushie in her hand is the last physical reminder that Jeanette lived here, in this house. That she existed. And beyond that, it's the only possession that's distinctly hers. Anyone could paint their bedroom walls pink, but a Hello Kitty plushie could only belong to someone like Jeanette. Someone who doesn't think it's childish to indulge in childlike things.
Fatin presses a thumb over the plushie's missing eye.
Someone like her.
A floorboard creaks in the hallway, and Fatin is quick to swallow the lump in her throat. "I never took Jeanette for a cat person," she comments before looking at Leah, expression schooled into casual indifference. "Find anything?"
---
Leah falls silent after finishing the incantation, focusing intently on the mirror. Fatin stares at the back of her head (Leah had said not to look directly at the mirror, and she's not taking any chances).
A few moments pass, and at first Fatin doesn't think anything's gonna happen. Then the air pressure around them plummets, causing her ears to pop. She gasps, but Leah doesn't even react. She continues to stand stock-still in front of her, hands pressed flat against the sink.
The weather inside the house continues to go haywire—the room temperature drops ten degrees in as many seconds, and Fatin shivers. She moves to stand next to Leah, and is considering poking her shoulder just to see if she'll respond when Leah turns to face her.
Her eyes are startlingly blue. And not in a cringe romcom way, but in a way that suggests that it's definitely not Leah she's looking at, not really, because her eyes are fucking glowing.
Fatin jumps back, head slamming into the wall behind her. Her brain rattles inside her skull, but she doesn't even register the possible self-induced concussion. "What. The. Fuck!"
Leah doesn't reply, and Fatin's not sure what's better or worse: having your possessed partner-in-crime try to strike up a conversation with you, or say absolutely nothing at all. Both sound equally terrible, but she's leaning towards the latter because Leah's eyes are boring into her with an unnatural intensity that makes her want to disappear.
Unable to stand it any longer, Fatin closes her eyes. If this is where she dies, she'd rather not have to bear witness to it. She only hopes that it'll be a quick and painless death. And that in the afterlife she'll be able to find Leah and punch her in the face for putting her in this situation in the first place.
Every single muscle in her body tenses. She holds as still as she can, her hands trembling at her sides, and waits.
And waits.
And waits- well no. Fatin's actually not super patient, so after about thirty seconds she throws up her hands and wrenches her eyes open, ready to fight whatever's in front of her.
Only Leah's no longer standing in front of her. Or even facing her. She's turned away, gazing into the bathroom mirror like it's the only thing in the room that matters. As if she never looked away in the first place.
This time Fatin makes no attempt to approach her. She slinks to the far corner of the room, arms wrapped protectively around herself, and stays there.
The idea of running is a fleeting one. She might be scared out of her mind right now, but there's no fucking way she's leaving Leah alone when she's been lowkey possessed.
Fatin slumps against the wall, wishing she'd brought her stupid pepper spray. She would never use it on Leah (well, unless she really had to) but at least having it on her would make her feel a little better.
Time flies when you're having fun, but she supposes the same holds true for when you're high off adrenaline from the worst jumpscare of your entire life. Thirty minutes pass, and Fatin's considering whether or not to try separating Leah from the mirror when Jeanette makes a decision for her.
In her periphery, the surface of the glass mirror shifts from dull gray to a blinding white. Leah falls backward, her eyes rolled all the way to the back of her head. Fatin doesn't have any time to think, she just reacts: surging forward to catch her body before it hits the ground.
She wraps her arms around Leah's waist, struggling to hold her up. Leah's ice-cold to the touch and dead weight in her arms. Slowly, Fatin lowers her body into an upright seated position, legs laid flat against the floor. Leah's unresponsive, but she tries not to panic.
She thinks back to the First Aid/CPR class her mom signed her up for before the semester started. The instructor had been a little distracting but she remembers their instructions pretty clearly now. Step one: check for a pulse.
Fatin shifts her grip and Leah's head lolls to the side. She presses two fingers to the carotid artery running along Leah's neck, and holds her breath. It takes a moment but she feels a pulse thrum beneath her fingertips. It's faint, but it's there.
Fatin almost collapses in relief. She settles for sinking down to the floor, and pulling Leah onto her lap so she's easier to hold. And just to make sure the connection to the mirror is fully severed, she covers Leah's eyes with her hand.
They stay like that for long enough for Fatin to finally dislodge the lump in her throat. Then she leans forward and murmurs, voice unsteady, "Leah, can you hear me?"
---
Sunday November 6th, 2019
Fatin takes longer than usual getting ready that afternoon. Normally she only takes half-an-hour, which isn't that long, despite her brothers' complaining. But today she stands in front of her wall-length mirror and changes her hair style three different times, before ultimately deciding to let it hang loose around her shoulders.
Behind her, a mountain of clothes hides her bed from view. Deciding on her outfit had taken even longer, because she had a drawer full of accessories to consider as well. Honestly, she doesn't really understand why she's been hit with a sudden wave of indecision. She's been to Leah's house before. It's not a big deal.
But she's never been invited inside and she's never met her parents, which she might be doing today. So she pulls on a multicolor camo jacket over a pink top paired with washed out skinny jeans for a casual but cute look.
Golden hoop earrings, and a heart-shaped necklace her dad gave her a few months back for her birthday completes the outfit. Hopefully, her dad seeing her wear it today will make him marginally less pissed off at her for going out past curfew.
It's not until she's walking out of her room that she notices the cardigan hanging over the back of her desk chair. Among the scattered piles of designer clothing and quirky t-shirts, it stands out like a sore thumb.
Fatin stops in the doorway, thinking. She could take it with her and return it to Leah today.
She re-enters the room and picks it up, finding the material soft and worn from use. Several threads are coming out at the seams, and there's two thumb-holes which she's pretty sure Leah poked out herself. She holds it out in front of her, and remembers how warm it'd kept her last night, despite Jeanette's house dropping to sub zero temperature.
Fatin's gaze drifts to her now empty closet.
Fuck it.
She puts the cardigan on a hanger and tucks it safely away.