Gripping the towel like a shield, Sofie inches forward. The closer she gets, the clearer the crying individual becomes.

It's a woman. She's wearing plain clothes; a white collared shirt, black skirt and low-heel shoes.

Her head down, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs.

The sounds pouring out of her are raw and unrestrained, the kind someone only makes when they think no one's around.

Sofie's chest tightens at the sight and she stops a few feet away, cautious.

"Hello."

The woman doesn't appear to hear her. She continues to weep, her shoulders rising and falling with every ragged breath.

Sofie swallows back the lump of nerves and clears her throat. When she speaks again, it's with more force and volume.

"Hey."

The cries falter. A moment of eerie silence passes before the woman slowly raises her head.

She stares up with wide brown.

Strands of dark chin-length hair stick to her tear-coated cheeks alongside smeared mascara and lipstick.

She looks young, but older than Sofie. Most likely early twenties.

"W-who are you?" she asks in a scratchy voice, brows knitting together.

Seeing nor sensing any signs of malevolence, Sofie edges a little closer. Her bare knees protest against the harsh floor tiles when she crouches down.

"I'm Sofie. What's your name?"

The girl doesn't answer right away. Her eyes bounce around the room, pupils dilating as she takes in their surroundings.

"Where am I?" she wonders.

"You're in the en suite."

The girl blinks rapidly and hugs her knees closer.

"I was taking a shower when you arrived," Sofie explains. "And I came out when I heard you crying."

"How did I get here?"

"You don't remember?"

Eyes welling up again, she vigorously shakes her head.

"I don't remember," she whimpers repeatedly. "I-I don't remember."

"Hey, hey, that's okay." Sofie rushes to calm her down, raising a hand. "You don't need to be scared," she assures. "I'm going to help you."

"You are?" The girl's eyes return to her, surprised but hopeful. Her breathing slows and she lifts a hand to brush the hair from her face.

Sofie nods, forcing herself to smile, despite being painful self-conscious of her almost naked state.

"But first I need to get dressed. Wait here- don't disappear, 'kay?"

She rushes away without waiting for a response and, discarding the damp towel on the floor, yanks on some clean clothes.

In her haste she puts the sweatshirt on inside-out but is too flustered to care.

It's both a relief and a disappointment to see the ghost-girl still there when she re-enters the en suite.

It doesn't matter how used to these sort of interactions she's become over the years, each one takes its toll.

She sits back down, cross-legged this time, and clasps her clammy palms together.

"Before I can help you I need to ask some questions. Is that okay?"

The ghost-girl responds with a slow nod and Sofie takes a deep breath to steady herself.

"You say you can't remember how you got here..."

"No," the girl confirms.

"...But what's the last thing you do remember?" Sofie asks.

"Err..." The ghost-girl stalls. She looks away, squinting thoughtfully.

"It can be anything-" Sofie adds encouragingly. "Anything at all. A sound, a smell... Something you heard or felt. Anything."

"I think..." The girl's brow creases. "I think I was at a party."

This niggle of information is just right to light the fuse to her curiosity but more is needed for anymore progression. There's only so much Sofie can do without knowing the circumstances around the girl's death.

"Like a birthday party?" she probes.

"I don't think so." The girl shakes her head but offers no more elaboration. Talking to her feels like pulling teeth but luckily Sofie possesses a saint's patience.

"Is there anything else you remember?"

"No," she mumbles. "I can't remember anything else... I couldn't see - it was too bright."

Sofie's eyes widen at these words, the pieces finally coming together.

"Was there a blinding bright light that felt magnetic?"

A look of unease passes over the girl's face.

"Y-yes, there was. How did you..?" she trails off, clearly spooked. "I don't understand."

Sofie has a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach. Why didn't she follow the light?

"Why didn't you follow it?" she asks and the girl grimaces.

"It frightened me," she explains, hugging herself tighter. "What was it?"

Oh no. Sofie stares, momentarily unable to answer. She doesn't know she's dead.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Sofie gnaws on her lower lip, fighting to keep her bubbling anxiety from brimming over. She kneads her hands, fingers slipping with sweat.

"I'm sorry," she begins. "There's no right way to tell you this but...er..."

The rest of the sentence gets stuck in her throat, memories of the previous times she'd had to tell other poor, confused souls their lives were over entering her mind.

They never reacted well. It's always worse when they don't know; when she has to tell them herself.

"Tell me what?" the ghost-girl implores. When Sofie doesn't answer, she releases her knees and leans forward with a desperate expression. "Tell me what?"

"Well - um..." Sofie flounders to find the right words, afraid of making an already bad situation worse by coming across insensitive. "You see, the thing is-"

"What?" The girl's face contorts, her voice rising. "Just spit it out!"

"Dead," Sofie blurts. So much for tact. "You're dead."

The ugly words hang in the air between them, seeming to grow heavier and heavier with each passing second. The air is suddenly too humid, like it's been leeched of oxygen.

Despite her accelerated heart rate, she sits still and waits for... whatever comes next.

An array of reactions are possible. The most common is disbelief, followed by denial and then anger. Other times, the response is laughter because they think she's joking. That laughter never lasts long because they quickly realise she's not.

The ghost-girl, however, reacts in none of these ways. She remains silent, her eyes boring into Sofie's with such intensity it would make her sweat if she wasn't doing so already.

Her expression doesn't give much away and somehow Sofie feels like this is worse because she has no way of telling what the girl is thinking or feeling. Or what she might do.

Eventually she leans back and says, "I'm dead?"

"Yes," Sofie confirms. "I'm so sorry."

A few more seconds of silence pass as the ghost-girl absorbs this miserable information. Her eyes search Sofie's face, no doubt seeing the sad and awful truth.

"You're not lying, are you?"

I wish I was. Biting her lip, Sofie shakes her head.

She gasps when the ghost-girl shoots to her feet and, exuding desperation, rushes to the mirror.

Sofie already knows what she's looking for but she won't find it, because ghosts don't have reflections.

Her shoulders slump when she looks into the mirror and Sofie winces, her heart breaking a little when the girl's expression shifts from shocked to crestfallen.

"How?" A broken whisper. "How did I die?"

"I don't know," she admits softly. "But I can try to help you remember. Maybe then you'll be able to... move on."

"Move on..." the ghost girl echoes, eyes fixed to the glass. The tears have returned. One escapes and free falls down her cheek.

Sofie opens her mouth, prepared to say something else, when there's a noise next door. She jumps up, a fresh dose of adrenaline releasing into her bloodstream, but calms when she hears Emelia call her name.

"I'm, uh, in the bathroom. Gimme a minute!"

She turns back but it's too late. The girl is gone.