See You Again ✔

Part Two

There's a web on my ceiling, yet no spider. My eyes strain in the darkness, trying to spot my small roommate, to no avail.

Susie is dead.

Her ball got stuck on our old cherry tree. She climbed to retrieve it, but a rotten branch broke. Susie fell backwards, and her neck snapped on a lower branch. She was gone before her body reached the ground.

Mom heard the commotion and saw her baby girl, motionless on the grass.

I found her hugging Susie's corpse, whimpering. She shouted at me to call 911, and I obeyed. But I had caught a glimpse of Susie's eyes. They were wide-open, staring forever into nothingness.

The EMTs arrived within minutes. One of them gently slid a neck brace on Susie and checked her vitals. The other one made Mom and me take a few steps back, and started questioning us. He glanced over my shoulder at his colleague, and they exchanged a grim look. Mom broke down.

They administered something to soothe her, to stop her from wailing desperately. I needn't any sedatives, but the rest of the day was blurry nonetheless. They took us to a hospital. Someone gave us food, that we left untouched. Police officers picked up Dad at work. They walked the three of us to the morgue and stayed silent while Dad sobbed softly, caressing Susie's face for the last time.

Where could that spider be hiding?

I sit up, listening to the sounds coming from my parents' bedroom across the corridor. Mom's snore is unnaturally deep. Dad's one is missing, so I guess sleep eludes him too.

A shadow passes outside and lures me to the window. Moonlight bathes the backyard. Bathes the cherry tree. Bathes Susie's ball.

What the hell.

It's still in the tree.

I slip outside my bedroom and sidle down the stairs, careful to hug the wall to avoid creaking sounds. I put sneakers on and unlock the kitchen door.

Cricket chirps welcome me in the garden. The air is warm and smells of the honeysuckle Dad planted last year. Tonight is a delightful summer night, and I don't give a damn. I only care about the red soccer ball hovering thirty feet above my head and plan how I'll climb the tree.

In Ms. Bogdan's house a lamp switches on, startling me.

Why is she up so late? Why is this light attracting me like a firefly? Will Mom and Dad organize one or two funerals if the neighbour feeds me to her pet demon? Many questions swirl in my mind, yet I find myself on Ms. Bogdan's porch within seconds, my hand knocking on her door.

I don't wait long before she opens it, as if she was expecting me. From up close, she doesn't look that scary. I mean yes, her mouth is tightened in a fine line, and her hair is dark and messy, but her eyes don't seem to contain anyone's soul except for hers.

"Hi, Sam."

My brows furrow. "How do you know my name?"

A tired smile spreads on her face. "I hear your sister calling when you play in your backyard."

"Oh."

Silence stretches between us, but it is not uncomfortable. I can feel her sympathy.

"Would you like to come in?"

Of course I hesitate. Who wouldn't? But there's something kind in her voice, and I give in.

She gestures for me to sit on the couch, by the fireplace. She chooses a worn-out rockchair, that she pivots slightly towards me.

"Can I offer you a cup of--"

"Are you really a witch?" The words spill from my mouth. I am surprised. I don't even know where they are coming from.

Ms. Bogdan arches a brow. "In a rush, today, are we?" She starts rocking back and forth. "What if I told you I was?"

"Can you bring Susie back?" Again, I speak without thinking.

Ms. Bogdan sighs. "No, Sam. No one can bring back the departed." Then her gaze pierces me. "But I can send you back."

My heart lurches. "Yes. Please. Anything to see Susie again."

Ms. Bogdan rubs her eyes. She gets up, and her wrinkled hand pats my head, soothing me. Suddenly, a sharp pain makes me yelp; that old hag has ripped a strand of my hair. She throws it into the fire.

"Are you ready, child?"

"Wait, what? That was it? Don't you want a payment? My soul, or my youth, or whatever?"

"You already paid me the first time." She pauses, poking at the glowing embers, and goes on. "You promised to become my friend."

"Your friend? The first time?"

Ms. Bogdan smiles sadly. "Forty-one times already your sister died climbing the cherry tree. Forty-one times already you came to me for a spell."

"We've done this before?" Panic overwhelms me. "Why didn't it work?"

Ms. Bogdan's distorted face is the last thing I see. Her voice echoes in my head.

"Wrong answer."

~~~

It's morning. I can smell toasted bread. My eyes fall on the open notebook in front of me. I'm about to complete the iteration formula.

So it's the forty-second time you are reliving this day. Quick. Write 42 instead of the real answer. This way you'll know you're stuck in a time loop.

My hand grips the pen tightly. It feels like it's weighing a ton. I strain to move my forearm towards the last iteration.

Wait! No. Don't put a number there. It didn't work before. Write something else.

My consciousness is slipping away, and with it, the reason why I'm back. I freak out. My fingers don't answer the way I need them to.

Please. Please. Please.

I somehow regain some sensibility in my hand and manage to scribble one word.