Bring my killer to justice

Los Angeles, United States February 14, 1974

What woke Melisandre up was the sound of a woman weeping nearby.

Momentarily stunned, Melisandre cocked her head to one side and made herself listen despite her better judgement.

She muttered to herself, "Stop! For crying out loud, just let me rest in peace woman."

Sleep was something Melisandre thought she would never experience again.

Right now, Melisandre needed to solve her own problems. 

Why was this woman disturbing her sleep by trying to get her attention with her weeping?

The last thing she needed to do was to take up someone else's problems and have them jumbled in her head.

All she could do was toss and turn in the bed.

Thinking that if times were different she would help the young lady if she could but after losing her family, her reputation, her life there was just nothing left to give.

She tried so hard to go back to sleep but it eluded her, the woman's sounds of anguish was like a beacon.

Pulling Melisandre in her direction, she felt compelled to assist her but with what. 

How could she soothe or comfort someone else when Melisandre couldn't even save herself.

What do you want from me?

These weeping sounds were like nothing she had heard in all her eighteen years of living. 

Such crying was pitiful, born not from fear or even from grief.

Almost as if the source of the spirit's pain came from somewhere deeper, so unnerving. 

Annoyed, she unconsciously moved her hands to cover her ears.

Determined to use her hands to block out the crying sounds that seemed to be getting louder. 

Melisandre sat up in bed, her eyes had shot wide open and she saw that she was in a neat and tidy bedroom.

Her hands were no longer bound but free and devoid of rope burns, she felt so confused. 

This was not her home.

The room was small and narrow, the curtains drawn so that the sunlight would not filter in.

Where am I?

The last thing she remembered was a toss up between drowning to death or being eaten alive by a crocodile.

What really happened was anyone's guess…

Nothing about the room was familiar, in fact it all seemed strange and peculiar in her eyes. 

She looked down at herself, Melisandre was wearing a thin dress in her favorite color pink.

The material was like nothing she had seen before, almost translucent.

Before she could marvel over it, something moved to the forefront from the corner of her eye. 

She wasn't alone, at the foot of the bed a shadow flickered, the crying stopped.

"Finally, you are awake," said a disembodied voice. "Neither. You died like me…from a heart attack."

Melisandre shivered.

Could this spirit read her mind?

Naturally she wanted to put more distance between herself and the spirit.

Her hand moved of its own accord to make the sign of the cross but she stopped it in time not wanting to risk antagonizing the spirit. 

The spirit flickered, "I'm tired of being manipulated and I don't have any fight left in me. So please, bring my killer to justice, let my memories guide you for everything I own is yours now." 

That expression on a face that mirrored Melisandre's own was too hard to ignore. 

The only difference was that the spirit sported black hair and looked abominably thin while Melisandre had blonde hair and a curvaceous body while alive.

Such a look of despair reminded Melisandre of how she felt when all hope was lost, how could they share that same expression, it left her unsettled. 

Melisandre sighed. "Fine. I'll do it. So please stop crying and cross over in peace."

"Thank you," replied the spirit earnestly. "I cannot express how much this truly means to me. Thank you! Still, forgive me. I'm sorry for what is to come…"

"Huh?"

Before Melisandre could inquire about that last statement the spirit pivoted away, its outline flickered until it dissipated and was no more. 

Melisandre was finally left alone with her thoughts for the first time since she had been reborn. 

She let out a breath Melisandre wasn't aware she had been holding.

As she slowly relaxed and removed the sheet that had been covering the lower half of her body. 

Melisandre wanted to get out of bed and explore her surroundings.

Slowly she inched her way over to the mirror on a nearby vanity table. 

She started to feel a pain tingling beneath her scalp that started to spread, it made her body feel hot as she gasped for breath.

Lisa Belmont had no flaws, everything about her was polished and beautiful except for the strangulation marks around her neck.

Nothing like the Melisandre who used to hide behind her mother's coattails when she could no longer run around barefooted or climb trees for fun.

Memories came flooding in, downcast her eyes were drawn to a driver's license, the owner's name was Lisa Belmont. 

The same face that appeared in the mirror was reflected on the driver's license, thankfully Lisa Belmont was the same age.

Everything around her started to have a name and make sense but it was too much for her brain to take in all at once. 

The room swirled for a bit as flashes of light hammered into Melisandre's confused brain.

Unable to help herself, she let out a loud, piercing scream as understanding and knowledge throbbed through her dome.

Before she crumpled to the ground someone pushed open the bedroom door, it was her maid.

Gloria quickly rested the breakfast tray she was carrying on the bed and rushed over to her side.

"Oh my gosh Miss Belmont, why aren't you on the bed. What happened?"

She assisted Melisandre back to bed, her face paled with concern.

Gloria had argued with Manager Whyte about having Miss Belmont registered at a hospital but he refused stating that she was fine.

Miss Belmont was his ward and as her Manager only he knew what was best for Lisa.

"What do you need? Were you trying to find your painkillers, let me get them for you."

No answer. 

Fidgeting with her hands because Gloria did not like the unnatural expression of pain on Miss Belmont's face.

Anxiously, she inquired once more, "Miss Belmont, what's the matter? Do I need to call Manager Whyte?"