That's Where Aurabelle Lives

Chapter 11: Intruder in this Life

The chill of the late afternoon air does little to calm the inner turmoil roiling within Ethan and Lisa as they approach the town park. They planned to meet their friend Sarah, or at least, who they think is Sarah.

Ethan exchanges a glance with Lisa, his eyes a mirror of her anxiety. They've discussed this encounter a dozen times, rehearsed every possible scenario, but nothing can truly prepare them for the reality of meeting their supposedly possessed friend. A part of Lisa hopes that they've been wrong, that maybe Sarah is just going through a phase, or a breakdown. But deep down, they both know that something is deeply wrong.

Sarah sits on a park bench, her posture too perfect, her hands resting unnaturally on her lap. Her eyes, once vibrant and full of mischief, are now a calm sea of indifference. As Ethan and Lisa approach, those eyes lift to meet theirs, and a flicker of something passes through them—curiosity, perhaps, or is it a trace of the real Sarah, screaming from within?

"Hey, Sarah," Ethan says, his voice a little too casual, a little too loud in the quiet park. "How are you feeling?"

Lisa follows with a tentative smile, trying to read the face of her friend for any sign of the girl they know. "Yeah, we've missed you," she adds. Her words hang in the air.

Sarah tilts her head slightly, analyzing the question, the concern, the emotions behind them. "I am... coping," she replies, her voice lilting in a way that's not quite Sarah. "It's been an adjustment."

Aurabelle, within Sarah's body, is learning on the fly. She's had to sift through Sarah's memories, her likes and dislikes, her relationships. Every interaction is a puzzle, a careful step in a dance she does not quite understand. She spent all night reading. Reading for the first time in years-Sarah's diaries. Sarah's books. Listening to her parents argue often. Ethan and Lisa—she knows of them, knows they are important, but the emotions they evoke are not hers. They are echoes in a shell she now controls.

Ethan sits beside Sarah, attempting to bridge the gap with familiarity. Lisa takes a seat on the other side, completing the circle of friends, a trio. The conversation stutters, starts, and stalls. They talk about the weather, the local news, the dogs in the park—anything to avoid acknowledging what happened a few days ago.

Sarah—Aurabelle—listens, interjects when necessary, mimicking the cadences and inflections she's gleaned from the memories she's accessed. But it's like watching a play where the actor is just a beat too slow, the lines rehearsed but not felt. Ethan and Lisa can sense the dissonance, the subtle but unmistakable disconnect.

Ethan leans forward, elbows on knees, his brows knit with concern. "Sarah, we need to talk about that night," he begins, his voice gentle but firm.

Lisa nods in agreement, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "We're again...worried about you. You passed out, and when you woke up, you seemed... different."

Sarah tilts her head, a wry smile playing on her lips, a subtle transformation that doesn't go unnoticed by her friends. "Oh, that?" she replies, her tone light, almost dismissive. "I felt a bit sick, probably something I ate. I don't remember exactly what happened.  I woke up in bed. I had a few bad dreams too, but I woke up fine."

Ethan and Lisa exchange a quick, uncertain glance. The explanation is too simple, too rehearsed, and it does nothing to ease the foreboding that has settled in their guts.

"But Sarah," Lisa presses, her voice laced with worry, "you didn't just feel sick. You were speaking in a strange voice, your eyes...your eyes changed that night. And I saw something!" Lisa's eyes fighting back tears made Sarah break eye contact.

Sarah's smile falters for a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features before she catches herself. "Weird dreams can make you say weird things," she counters smoothly. "I've just been feeling a bit off, that's all. Maybe I forgot some stuff, but I'll be fine. I mean-" Aurabelle started remembering the night more clearer. Before she took over Sarah's body. "I mean we went in a house where there was bad energy. Perhaps it was a lot on my body. Didn't you both feel weird? You said you saw something? But now you're okay, right?" She looks at Lisa.

Ethan isn't convinced. The Sarah he knows is open, transparent, not one to brush off concerns with vague explanations. The Sarah sitting before him now is elusive, her words carefully measured.

"Sarah, we're your friends. You can tell us if something's wrong," Ethan says, his voice earnest. "We just want to help."

Aurabelle, still in control, realizes she must tread carefully to maintain her freedom. Sarah's friends are perceptive, and any slip could expose her presence.

"There's nothing to tell, really," Sarah insists, her gaze steady. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm okay. Let's not dwell on it, okay? Besides, it was quite scary and a bit traumatic. I woke up and none of you were there for me..."

Lisa sighs, her frustration evident. "I'm sorry, Sarah. We didn't mean to leave you. We didn't want you to get in trouble with your parents. It's just that you've been acting so differently since that night. You're distant, and it's like you're not really here with us."

Aurabelle feels a twinge of irritation at the persistence of her friends. She hadn't anticipated such scrutiny, but she's determined to keep her newfound liberty. With a deep breath, she softens her expression, allowing a hint of vulnerability to show through.

"I know it must seem strange," Sarah admits, her voice tinged with a feigned confusion. "I feel like I'm missing pieces of myself, like I'm trying to put together a puzzle with half the pieces gone. But I'm getting better, I promise."

Ethan's heart aches at the sight of his friend, seemingly struggling to make sense of her own mind. He wants to believe her, to trust that she'll find her way back to them, but the doubt lingers, a stubborn shadow that refuses to be dismissed.

"We're here for you, Sarah," Ethan says, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her knee. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

Lisa nods, her eyes softening. "Yes, we'll help you remember, or forget, or whatever you need."

Sarah—Aurabelle—draws back slightly, the contact unsettling her. It's a strange sensation, feeling the warmth of human connection while harboring the secret of her true identity. She musters a smile, a facsimile of Sarah's usual warmth.

"Thanks, guys. It means a lot to me," she says, her voice carrying a note of gratitude that isn't entirely feigned. Even as a spirit, Aurabelle can't deny the comfort that genuine friendship offers, even if it's not hers to claim.

The conversation shifts as Ethan and Lisa, reassured for the moment, begin to chat about more dogs.  Sarah contributes where she can, careful to mimic Sarah's mannerisms, her interests, but the effort is draining.

As the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, Aurabelle feels the weight of her deception like a heavy cloak. She's playing a part, but for how long? How long before Ethan and Lisa see through the act, before the real Sarah fights her way back to the surface?

For now, she holds on, savoring the freedom of the physical world, the sensations that come with a corporeal form. She listens to the laughter of her friends, watches the way the light dances in their eyes, and for a moment, she almost forgets that she's an intruder in this life.