The Princess and the Freak 02

“So, who are you?” the girl asked.
Pink was feeling dizzy. Samara. The ghost. Alive. Talking to him.
That was one thing he had certainly never planed. But maybe this was just a dream? People often dreamed they were awake, didn’t they? They did on televisions and in cartoons. Yes, that had to be it. It just couldn’t be real.
“Hey mister, are you even listening to me?”
“You’re a dream. I don’t have to answer to a dream.”
She didn’t like the answer it seemed, and kicked him in the leg. Hard. He winched.
“Putain de…! What was that for?”
“Oh. So it really real,” Samara said, surprised. “I thought it was… I thought it was just in my head. So that’s why I don’t know you.”
“Did you have to kick me to know that?”
“Yes. Now tell me who you are. Or else… I’ll be angry, and you won’t like it. I can do worse that kicking!”
Pink certainly didn’t like the scary hint of pride in her voice as she said that, but he knew it was true. If she really was Samara, then she could do things he didn’t want to think about.
“My name is Pink. I’m the one you called. On the phone. Long distance call by the way, I wouldn’t want to pay for that one.”
The girl looked surprised, and stared at him angrily.
“I didn’t want you to come. I didn’t think it was you. I wanted it to be…”
She looked confused, as if she didn’t really know who she had wanted to see. Maybe that journalist, Pink thought, the one who had found her body. Or maybe someone from her family? Didn’t she have a biological mother or something like that, in a mental institution? He really should have read her biography more thoroughly instead of just focusing on the tape. Then again, how was he supposed to know he’d met a little girl who had been dead for more than 30 years, and that she would get angry at him because he had dared to come and help her?
This was so weird.
“I really need a cup of tea now,” he mumbled. “Or maybe two or three, we’ll see. Do you want something, ghost girl?”
“My name is Samara! Am I really a ghost?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you try to walk through the walls while I make the breakfast?”
She glared at him, and refused to answer. But since she didn’t come with him in the kitchen, he assumed she’d probably follow his advice.

Once he had a nice, hot cup of tea in his hand, he was able to think more clearly about the implications of that unexpected reversal of the situation. The first thing he needed to do was to define how real she was. Was she a ghost, was she a zombie of some sort, or an actual living girl? If she was a ghost, could other people see her? Or hear her? If she was a zombie, did she need to eat and drink and sleep? And if she was alive… Well, he just hoped she wasn’t. If she was alive, the situation would be really too complicated.
Ghost only need to finish the business they left when they died. Zombies could manage on their own. Eight years old girl couldn’t. If she was alive, he’d have to make sure she was alright, or more probably, he’d have to find people who could take care of her. People who would be trustworthy, and yet wouldn’t ask too much what a twenty years old French boy was doing with such a young girl. Because who would believe the truth? He wasn’t sure he believed it.
Speaking of which… what about her powers? Did she still have them? He remembered that on the website about the tape and the curse, it was said she could kill with just a thought, and make people go crazy. Was it still true? Could she control it? Would she kill him for no reason? Or with a reason? True, it wouldn’t make a big difference, but if she was logical in her punishments, then he could certainly avoid death.
“I want a toast,” said Samara when coming in the kitchen. “Is there peanut butter? I want some on a toast.”
“Ghosts don’t eat.”
“Then maybe I’m not one. I can’t do the wall thing either.”
“Oh. Then you’re really not a ghost I guess. Maybe you really are alive. Do you feel alive?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember what it’s like. But right now, I don’t feel like I’m dead. It’s different from when I was in the well. Not so cold. Hey, are you going to leave me alone?”
“I don’t know,” Pink sighed. “Do you want me to? I’ll be honest, I’m a little scared right now. I know the things you can do, and I know you don’t seem to like me. But if you want me around, I’ll stay.”
She looked at him silently, as if estimating how valuable his help could be. She didn’t seem too impressed.
“You’re an idiot,” she said. “No one clever would have come here. And you’ve got the most stupidest name I’ve ever heard. But that’s okay. I’m a little weird too, so I don’t think someone with a brain would help me. You can stay with me.”
Her voice clearly indicated she was granting him a great favour by allowing him to stay in her presence. And much to his surprise, Pink realized that her decision actually made him happy. He’d never really cared much about being useful to anyone, but the mere idea of helping her felt… right, somehow. Like it was meant to be.
“Okay, we’ll need a few rules then,” he said, trying to sound tough. “First of all, I think you should use you power, unless it’s really absolutely necessary. And you really shouldn’t use it to kill people at all. Because, you know, killing is bad. And we’d get in trouble. Rule two: if someone asks you, tell them I’m… your uncle. Yeah, that sounds plausible. I’m now your uncle.”
“These are good rules,” Samara admitted unwillingly. “I have one too. Just one rule and you better obey it, okay? The rule is, you don’t give me orders. You’re not my dad, you’re not really my uncle, you’re not nothing. You can’t tell me what I can do.”
He’d never really thought of ordering her around, so this seemed a good rule. It was difficult to even imagine being bossy with a girl who could burn your mind anyway. Maybe he was stupid, but not that stupid.
An uncomfortable silence followed as neither of them knew what to say. None of the questions Pink wanted to ask were polite, especially after so short an acquaintance, and he couldn’t possibly think of a subject for conversation. He’d never been around kids that much before, let alone dead ones.
He didn’t have to worry for long. Just as he was about to ask Samara if she wanted to have some tea with her toast, someone knocked at the door. Or more exactly someone banged the door repeatedly while screaming that he’d better open the door quickly if he didn’t want them to call the police or someone.
Pink wasn’t surprised when he discovered it was the old lady from the reception. She looked angrier than ever.
“What on Earth have you been doing in there? The light was on all night, and I’ve seen you walking around and heard you screaming last night! And just a minute ago you were talking to someone, weren’t you? Who’s in there with you? Now listen young man, that place will close in just a few days, I don’t want troubles in here, so you’re going to… OH MY GOD, WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?”
Samara, intrigued by all the screaming, had left the kitchen to see what was going on, and the old woman had seen her. The only thing Pink could think was that the girl was actually real, and that other people could see her too. Then the woman pushed him aside and ran toward Samara, looking very worried.
“Poor little thing, look at your dress! I bet you haven’t taken a bath in days! Poor child! What are you doing with that man? Did he kidnap you? Did he do bad things to you?”
“He’s nice,” Samara answered coldly. “He’s helped me. Go away. Don’t touch me.”
Too busy insulting Pink and swearing she was going to call the police right away, the old lady didn’t listen to a single word the girl said. It was a mistake. When she tried to take Samara in her arms to bring her to safety, far away from the awful French pervert, the girl snapped.
Pink felt a sort of hot, painful wave going through his brain, and the horrible sensation almost made him faint. He fell on his knee and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but the pain, failing miserably… until the feeling stopped as suddenly as it had come. Samara was now just in front of him, and there was worry on her eyes. He tried to smile to reassure her, but he only grinned miserably.
“It was really necessary,” Samara said defensively. “She wasn’t nice. She’d have called the police. They would have thought I was mad, and I would have been sent to the hospital. I don’t want to go back to the hospital. It’s horrible there.”
Still slightly shocked, Pink looked around and saw the inn’s lady lying on the ground.
“Is she dead?”
“No. You said I mustn’t kill. But if you changed your mind, I can do it. She’s not really nice. She wanted people to build a pool above my well. That’s mean.”
“Yeah. I don’t like her either. But we’ll get in trouble if she dies. Well, I guess we really must leave now. I wouldn’t want to be here when she wakes up. Unless there is anything you want to do here?”
“No. I don’t like it here. I want to leave. Where are we going now?”
“I don’t have the slightest idea. But I’m sure we’ll have fun.”