The Sixth Sense

Chapter 8

Louisa’s POV

Mormo was a spirit known for biting bad children. A shapeshifting female entity, she manipulated lost souls to achieve her goals.

I close the book with a sigh of frustration.

There’s nothing more about her in it.

After what my father told me—that the creature I fought back then was Mormo—I’ve been searching for answers.

I thought I’d find something useful in the library’s mythology section, but so far, I’ve come up empty. Even Google doesn’t have much beyond vague mentions.

I’m so absorbed in my thoughts that I almost miss the sandwich landing on my lap.

Startled, I look up to see Titus standing in front of me, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” he asks casually, his gaze dropping to the book in front of me.

Grateful, I smile at him before grabbing the sandwich. “Trying to figure out more about the creature,” I say, watching his reaction closely.

We haven’t really talked about what happened that day.

While he’s expressed his gratitude for what I did, I still don’t know how he truly feels about my abilities.

“Why do you want to know more?” he asks, biting into an apple.

I shrug. “Preparation. Just in case something like that happens again,” I offer as a reasonable excuse.

“Huh… I always thought spirits and stuff like that weren’t real,” he admits, leaning back in his chair. “Never imagined I’d experience something so… surreal. And now, it feels like it’s going to stick with me forever.” He shakes his head with a wry grin, still coming to terms with everything.

I stay silent, letting him talk.

He seems like he needs someone to listen, so I give him a small, encouraging smile.

“I heard you went back to your father’s house?” I ask after a moment.

My dad mentioned that the Governor called to thank me for helping his son. I assume Titus said something about what I did, though I’m not sure what exactly he told him.

He nods, his expression turning serious. “There was this voice in my head… It kept telling me to kill my father, saying he was evil and better off dead.”

My eyes widen in shock, but he just sighs heavily. “That’s why I decided to leave. I couldn’t stay there anymore.” He turns to meet my gaze, and I give him a reassuring smile.

“With everything that’s happened, he’s still your father. And you still love him,” I say softly.

Titus raises an eyebrow, amused. “I should probably be scared by how well you understand my relationship with my dad.” He nudges my shoulder playfully. “But knowing your powers, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

His acceptance of me and my abilities fills me with relief.

We sit there in companionable silence until the bell rings, signaling the end of our break. We head to our separate classes, but I know we’ll meet again whenever our schedules allow.

Titus is in 11th grade, older than me by a year, but we’ve grown close.

Walking into the cafeteria together draws a lot of stares.

The three Barbies—the self-proclaimed popular girls—look especially shocked. But they’re not the only ones. Almost everyone seems surprised to see Titus and me together.

Despite everything, the mystery of why Rachel thought Titus was in love with her—and why she ended her life—still lingers.

I suppose, in time, I’ll find out.

It’s Sunday night when I decide to grab something to eat.

My father’s working overtime at the office, so it’s just me at home.

Since I don’t have a car—or a license—I take my bicycle instead.

The sun is almost gone, even though it’s only 7 PM. I pedal faster, hoping to get to the Burger Grill café quickly.

Titus told me to call him if I ever needed anything, but this doesn’t feel significant enough to bother him—especially when I know he’s having dinner with his dad.

I’m glad to hear their relationship is improving. Family is important.

And no, Titus isn’t my boyfriend.

We’re close, sure, but it’s more like a sibling bond.

He doesn’t see me that way, and I feel the same about him.

Having a best friend who knows about my weirdness is more than enough.

Sob… Sob…

The sound of crying stops me mid-ride.

What....

I glance around, trying to locate its source, but there’s no one in sight.

Goosebumps prick my skin.

Shit.

Why did I stop?

“Smart move, Louisa,” I mutter, urging myself to keep pedaling toward the café.

Help… Help… Sob… Sob…

The cries grow louder, accompanied by a faint voice.

Fuck! f**k!

I grip the handlebars tighter, forcing myself to focus. Just one more turn…

“Aahh!” I scream as a woman suddenly appears in front of me.

BRAAK!

The brakes fail, and I hit the ground hard, the asphalt scraping against my skin.

HELP ME!!!

I look up, heart pounding, only to come face-to-face with a bloodied white spirit. Her twisted, ghostly face flies past me in a blur.

I can hear my heart racing as I cautiously lower my hands from my face.

Nothing....

No one’s here.

What… What just happened?

Slowly, I push myself off the ground, wincing at the sharp pain in my knees. Blood trickles down from the scrapes, staining my jeans.

Perfect!

I sigh, grabbing my now-broken bike. With no other option, I start walking toward the café, hoping nothing else happens.

Why did that spirit appear?

Did it know I could see it?

Sense it?

The questions swirl in my mind as I reach the café and park my damaged bike outside.

“Hi, Louisa!” Gina, the café owner, greets me warmly as I step inside. Her cheerful demeanor shifts to alarm the moment she sees my condition. “Oh my God, what happened to you?”

Before I can respond, she calls for her son. “Mark! Bring the first aid kit, quick!”

“Broken brakes,” I explain briefly, gesturing to the bike outside.

“Oh, dear,” she murmurs, just as Mark arrives with the kit.

“What happened, Louisa?” Mark asks, his brow furrowed with concern.

I feel embarrassed for worrying them over something so small.

Gina helps bandage my wounds while Mark prepares my food. The warmth and kindness of this small-town family remind me why I love this place.

“Where’s your dad?” Mark asks as he sets the food on the table.

“Working late,” I reply with a grin.

He nods. “Well, enjoy your meal. I’ll drive you home later, so don’t worry.”

Mark and my dad have grown close over their shared love of fishing, and I’m grateful someone can take me home. There’s no way I’m biking back after what just happened.

It’s 10 PM when Mark finally drives me home.

The ride is quiet, but my heart races every time I glance out the window, afraid of seeing something—or someone—again.

Help… Help me…

The voice returns, faint but unmistakable.

I stiffen, bracing myself as I scan the dark streets.

And then I see her.

The same girl.

Standing in the shadows of the house on the corner.

Watching me.

My breath catches.

Wait a minute…

Oh God.

It’s Rachel???

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