Autopsy Of A Mind 10 Haunted

She was my father's cousin, but a somewhat close one so I was handed over to her when I was declared an orphan. I had rented a small apartment from aunt's friend for a month and neatly settled in.

Most people in town didn't know who I was because I rarely ventured out during my stay, but some of the immediate neighbors had remembered me, even though it had been eight years already.

One of them was Seth Watson, the boy next door whose bedroom was in front of mine. He had been a year older than me and bewildered by the news that aunt had brought a new girl home. I had overheard whispers on the street about the ghostly ent.i.ty that haunted the house and quickly realized that the description matched me.

Crazy eyes. Skeletal body. Permanent scowl and a mask covering my presumably horrifying place. They hadn't been fully wrong, though, at that point in time, that is exactly how I had seen myself.

Even a gust of wind could have broken me.

Most days my legs ached as I tried to get a look at the sun. It was worse during the rain. I remember that on one sunny day I had seen the neighbor's son looking intently towards my direction. I had drawn the curtains, yet the sheer material let me look outside without having to face anyone. He'd had a couple of boys his age accompanying him, all of them staring towards me. From there horrified expressions and mumbling among themselves, I knew that they could see my silhouette. But his eyes were different, disbelieving and curious.

The first day he saw me was when they came over for dinner. Unable to withstand human contact, I secretly entered the kitchen to get myself some food. I had to recuperate and I had to do it fast and food was the only way at that point in time.

I was sustaining myself on foods easily digestible and rich in protein. The doctor was adamant of nouris.h.i.+ng my body and helping me rebuild the muscles that had decayed over the seven months of captivity. They said it was a miracle that I could use my legs properly after not having used it for so long. Hence, my diet was different than the one of those sitting in the dining area and I expected none of them to venture out to the kitchen. But the brave Seth Watson ventured out, despite the rumors of poltergeist hauntings, to fetch himself a gla.s.s of water. He was familiar with the house but was struck with a bout of fright when we came face to face.

The initial panic was replaced by resolution, one that he continued to hold until I left town. It was not a surprise to me that he would join the police force and work hard to be transferred to the violent crimes department as soon as he was.

We had a silent camaraderie. He spoke too much, probably out of consideration of my condition, and I indulged in feeling more normal by being near him. He had no effect in my recovery, but even his sympathy made me feel like there was hope of me remaining a human and overcoming my… tragedy.

I saw him at the local supermarket the second day I was in town. Despite how picturesque it was, a handful of tourists would end up in the area, therefore most people buying groceries had either been living for a long time or just moving in. I recognized him almost instantly, he was taller somehow and way bulkier than I remembered. He didn't recognize me, though. I was still short, but I looked nothing like my sixteen-seventeen-year old self. Therefore I kept to myself and didn't introduce myself. Nothing good ever came of small talk and reconnection, anyway.

He glanced at me quite a few times, but I was sure it was out of general curiosity and nothing else.

Three days into vacation I received a call from Professor Singh, someone whom I had not spoken to since the conference in Seoul. When I picked up the phone I was pleasantly surprised that he had been asking about me to my departmental professors before being sure and calling me himself. He told me that his colleague needed a translator for some of his seminar transcripts and that I would be paid handsomely. It was appealing but he demanded that I had to travel to his actions house and work there for the duration of my employment. It was a nuisance and I understood that academic papers were a sensitive matter especially to those dealing with confidential cases but I was just visiting and not ready to leave.

"Professor," I began to protest, but he cut me off.

"I was told that you are in Town X at the moment and free, please Miss Lewis he is staying there himself at the moment and really needs the help." I was taken aback by the information, but not surprised that he had found out.

"Could you give me his contact details? I will speak to him personally to get more information about the task." He seemed amicable with the idea and sent over the details.

Sebastian Butler. a.s.sociate Professor of Criminal Psychology.

I quickly called the number but it rang through. When I came back to check my cell phone there was a message lighting up the screen.

'Identify yourself, it said.'

'Dr. Singh asked me to contact you.'

The phone chirped again. This time he had sent me an address and the time at which I was supposed to head over. He also mentioned that he would interview me.

Reasonable.

It was indeed an urgent matter because the time he had asked me to go over was in a couple of hours. With nothing much to do anyway, I headed out and searched for the place. Funnily enough, it was the only place in town which was deemed haunted apart from my aunt's. It was a villa located at the outskirts of town, hidden in the forest. It was Victorianesque in style and obviously renovated to accommodate its owner.

It was quite a hike from the main road to the villa, but the path was substantially groomed and looked ridiculously beautiful. Despite the looks I had received when asked for directions, it seemed that the house looked nothing like the dilapidated death trap the man at the pharmacy depicted.

I rang the bell and waited for the door to open. I checked my watch and I was a little ahead of time, but when two minutes pa.s.sed without anyone opening the door, I was tempted to ring the bell again.

Suddenly, I remembered how Dr. Butler had ignored my call and texted me instead. Realizing that it was a quirk of his, I quickly pulled out my phone and sent him a message saying that I had arrived. Within moments I heard the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. After the clicking sound, the door opened and revealed a man with very happy features, somewhat unlike I had imagined Mr. Butler to appear. Knowing better than to judge him by his appearance, I politely smiled at him.