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"Arg!" Sarah exclaimed under her breath. The picture on the screen was still a blurry mess, with nothing but a clear bit of background and hair at the very top. She turned to face Archer, rolling her eyes. "Why are these computers so slow?"

"Because." Archer replied, switching his weight to the other knee as he crouched beside her. "It's a free public service."

"I guess…" Sarah replied, exasperated. Noticing that Archer didn't exactly seem comfortable, she sat up a little straighter. "Hey, do you want to sit down?"

"No, that's ok." Archer said, switching knees again. "I'm fine."

"No, really." She insisted, moving to stand up. "You've been sitting like that for a while…. I don't mind standing. Here, come on."

"No, I'm fine." Archer insisted, refusing to budge. "You sit."

"Seriously, I'm not that high maintenance, I can stand…"

"Sarah." Archer replied, fixing her with an icy glare. "It's all right. I'm fine."

"But-"

"Look!" Archer said, pushing her in the swivel chair so she turned around to face the computer screen.

Sarah was about to reply when she stopped in her tracks and gaped. A clear, pretty female face stared back at her, bright eyes staring out mischievously out of the computer screen; she looked like she was stifling a smile, or a laugh, or a joking comment. Two perfectly even braids fell down onto her shoulder, adorned with ribbons, shining with the sort of freshness that could have only existed if the hair was freshly washed. What could be seen of her dress through the portrait was high-necked and lacy, the material adorned with small flowers and leaves. The picture had been taken outside, due to the grassy hills and prairie background behind her, a blooming lilac bush protruding from the left side behind her.

But, for a moment Sarah noticed none of this. She was too transfixed on the girl's face, this sweet little girl who looked around 7 years old; her eyes drinking in the girl's smile, dimple in one cheek, the slight dusting of freckles and blush across squeaky clean, fresh skin, all staring out at her from the old photograph. What was she trying not to laugh at, in her old fashioned, sepia-coloured world? Sarah stared, slightly open-mouthed at the computer screen, trying to decipher what was so familiar about the scene… Something about the girl's face, particularly her eyes seemed to call to her…

And then, like a giant block of cement, it hit her. The face, the smile, the background, she recognised it all…

"Katrina?" Sarah asked, looking up at Archer for any sign of an answer. "It's Katrina, isn't it?"

Archer nodded. "See? I knew you were psychic."

"But…" Sarah's mind couldn't seem to wrap around the concept fully as she continued to stare at the face… This, this smiling, eternally happy photo of a little girl was Katrina. Katrina, her ghost. Her ghost, Katrina. Sarah had imagined she'd be somehow older, and the ghost didn't seem like it had been happy… she knew for a fact it wasn't. Sarah had learned to feel it, just like she could sense the static moving and floating lazily around her when she stood still enough to pay attention.

But, maybe Katrina hadn't always been like that… shivers spread up and down Sarah's spine, like an icy wildfire. What had happened, to trap her spirit eternally in an old, musty attic for so many decades? What had been so horrible, so terrible that it permanently wiped the smile from a child's face?

Seeing the pain in Sarah's own face, Archer reached over and gently took the mouse from her hand, exiting out of the internet.

"Come on." He said, taking her arm and helping her to stand. The state of mind Sarah had at that moment was a torn one; she was half transfixed by the image of Katrina she'd cemented in her head, never to be forgotten, and half transfixed by the warm weight or Archer's large, slightly rough hand on her arm. It was comforting, in a way, to have him guide her past all of the computers, to not have to think of where she would go or what she would do, just rest her mind and put all her trust in him…

No. Her mind commanded, snapping her back to the bright, fluorescent lighted building faster than you could spell 'Denial'. No, no, no, no, NO!

"Where are we going?" Sarah's speaking apparently snapped Archer back to the present also, or at least let him know she was alive and able to walk for herself, as he let go of her arm and placed his hands in his pockets. Was it just her, or was he purposely avoiding her gaze, scuffing his feet along as he quickly led the way out of the Library?

"You didn't look so great." He bluntly stated, his hair being ruffled by the slight breeze as they totted down the stone steps. "And I knew you'd want to talk about it, considering you always do like to talk about things." He shot her a look, finally meeting her brown eyes with his unusual ones, grinning deviously. "Not like you ever prefer not to talk, that is."

Sarah straightened her back, making her way around a large oak tree in the grass as she tried to catch up to him. "Hey, it's called being social, Goth-Boy."

If Archer hadn't been facing the opposite way, she would have been able to see the exaggerated eye-roll that took place on his pale, smooth face. "Anyways, what I was thinking was we could talk about it somewhere else, like that Java Hut, or something. You know, considering the place is filled with enough hippies and new-age followers that talk of ghosts and auras and such probably won't be noticed."

The sky was still grey when they neared the stone arch-way leading out of the park, the dark clouds seeming to loom closer and closer to the ground. The ceiling of oak leaves and pine trees that surrounded them was broken by only a few lilac bushes and flowerbeds, small statues covered in moss and vines, worn park benches with the forest green paint chipping and peeling off like pieces of birch wood. Their footsteps echoed through this small patch of silence, crunching against the gravel of the path, snapping twigs, causing small sparrows and larks to fly off in fear. Then, all at once, the silence was broken when they stepped through the arch, past the old, water-stained stone wall and out onto the street.

They were on the opposite side of the park from the library, the entrance that lead straight out onto Main Street. Cars rushed by, and even for such a dreary day there were still people about; old ladies walking around with their shopping bags and floppy hats, baggy pastel clothes billowing. Teenagers pushing and punching each other and swaggering and laughing loudly, as if they and their perfect hair and clothes and friends ruled the streets. Adults in business suits and casual wear alike rushing into their cars or into office buildings or stores, eternally checking their watches. And seemingly oblivious to the rest, a plump lady in a bright red sweatshirt, white pants and mismatched shoes ambling up and down the sidewalk, brandishing a blindingly yellow umbrella high above her head.

Sarah followed Archer in silence, not quite knowing what to say, how to say it, or whether or not this was one of those times where nothing needed to be said at all. She still felt light-headed and almost drained from the library, and the mere motion of moving her legs, propelling herself after him seemed to take up all of her concentration.

It seemed utterly pointless to Sarah, this talking over coffee thing, when they couldn't even utter a word to each other while walking down the street. This was strictly for business, she had to remind herself; the ghost, the auras, the attic. Nothing more, nothing less. The thought seemed to pull at her mind, dragging the corners of her lips down, weighing her shoulders closer to her chest, even if she knew it was true.

But, alas, when they were hunched over plain black coffee (Archer) and medium extra foamy low-fat skim milk latte (Sarah), the words surprisingly flew back and forth freely, and only about a fifth of it was about anything remotely supernatural.

The first thing she noticed was the darkness.

It wasn't just dark, like nocturnal dark, but pure; nothing but black, darkness, charcoal, oblivion, whatever you'd want to call it all around. It was palpable, this dark, like the static was; only it seemed to have some different form of substance, some heavy, heart-breaking emotion to it that pushed you down, smothering you and tightening your chest, making it hard to breathe…

Sarah found it hard to move, amongst this dark… she didn't know if she was standing or sitting or lying down, which way was up or front or back… It was like she had no limbs, no hair or feet or face.

"Sarah…"

A small, whispery voice shattered the silence, echoing throughout the hollows in her ears.

"Sarah… are you there? Saraaaaaahhh…."

Sarah's breath caught in her throat, and she found herself nearly choking on her own fear.

"Sarah… help me!"

The voice made the transition from an eerie, low whisper sound to a panicky, shrill shout.

"Help!"

But there was nothing to help, just the darkness…

"Help me, please!" the shouts grew more frantic, bouncing off the invisible barriers and air and sides, echoing over and over and over until Sarah found her own mouth opening, her own voice mingling in with the cries and pleas for help…

The sound grew more and more overbearing, taking over every particle of her body, pounding the inside of her skull like a sledgehammer pulse, until finally it grew so fast it was like a record playing at hyper speed fast-forward, the voice changing and morphing until it was one single, shrill scream that pierced her ears to the point of near insanity…

And then the silence.

It took Sarah a moment to realise she'd woken up and was sitting up in bed, staring at the poster-covered wall before her. It was dark in her room too, but only semi-dark, because the sky from her window was just beginning to turn grey with morning light. This dark, this faint haze or grey was nothing compared to the darkness of her dream… and the scream. The frequency of it was still in her head, her ears still ringing loudly, her heart still pounding like a trapped animal in her rib-cage. She didn't seem to notice the static as she sat there, waiting for the sun to rise, not knowing if she should risk falling back to sleep or not…

Sarah.

The whisper caused her to jump, hugging her knees and peering around the dark room. It came and went so fast and quietly that she wasn't even sure it had existed in the first place, or if it was her own already troubled mind manipulating her senses…

The sun rose more slowly than usual that morning, and Sarah didn't manage to lie back down and close her eyes until her room was filled with pale, spring-time sunlight, penetrating every dark corner and shadow in her eyesight.