A mysterious boy

Mary drifted in the intense darkness again.

She didn't know how long she had been in the vast void of darkness. Minutes? Hours? Days? Time felt strange here, completely irrelevant. She was floating in an empty space, weightless, with no sound, no light, just her thoughts. Her awareness was the only thing anchoring her to existence in the darkness...

She wanted to go back. The desire was a constant, aching throb in her non-existent chest...

She wasn't ready to leave Michael yet. He needed her. She knew it deep within her.

She remembered his face, the way it had been contorted by grief in the hospital room. She had never seen him cry like that before, with such raw pain and agony... The memory of his pain hurt her more intensely than the physical sensation of the fall from the school's rooftop...

She wasn't supposed to die yet. Her life had been cut short, brutally and unfairly...

This wasn't fair. The thought was a bitter taste in her non-existent mouth...

A soft hum echoed around her and the darkness. It wasn't a human voice or any recognizable noises from Earth. It was more like a feeling, a gentle, insistent vibration, a subtle push in a certain direction, as if something unseen was guiding her somewhere.

Then, lights glowed out of nowhere. A tiny, dim glow appeared in the distance, like a single candlelight flickering far away in the immense darkness...

Mary focused on it, pouring all her concentration into that distant speck of brightness...

The light grew bigger, steadily expanding. It stretched and shifted, slowly taking on different shapes, forming distinct lines that became walls, then a floor, and finally a ceiling. Then, all at once, with a sudden force, the oppressive darkness shattered, breaking apart like glass...

She was standing in an empty room.

It wasn't her home. It wasn't the environment of the hospital. And she knew instinctively, with a deep certainty, that it wasn't on Earth. It was small and simple, with plain white walls that glowed faintly and a single chair placed precisely in the center...

She looked down at herself. She was wearing her exact school uniform from the day she died. But unlike her last moments, the clothes were clean, pristine, without a single tear or speck of her blood on them...

Her hands trembled slightly as she examined them. She cautiously touched her arms, then her face. To her astonishment, she felt solid again, substantial, undeniably real to her own perceptions... But despite this newfound physical sensation, she still knew, with certainty, that she wasn't alive in the way she had been before...

Where was she? The question hung heavy in the silent white room.

A soft knock came from behind her, a gentle sound that seemed to echo in the quiet white room.

She turned around instantly, her posture defensive, a worried and uncertain look on her face.

A boy stood in the doorway...

He looked about the same age as Michael, perhaps a little older, with messy blonde hair that fell casually across his forehead and calm, deep, dark eyes. He wore simple white clothes, resembling the loose-fitting gown one might see in a psychiatric hospital...

Mary took a step back, instinctively widening the distance between them, adopting a defensive stance. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice shaking...

The boy tilted his head slightly to the left side, a playful glint in his eyes. "You don't remember me?" he said, his tone light, teasing her.

She frowned, confusion was all on her face... "Should I?"

He smiled a little, a genuine and easy smile. It was clear he was enjoying Mary's reaction, her mixture of bewilderment and caution. "No. We never met, not in the way you mean. But I've been waiting for you."

Mary's stomach tightened, a pain forming in her non-existent belly, and she instinctively clutched at it. "Waiting for me?" The words came out strained...

The boy walked casually into the room, his movements fluid and unhurried. "You're not supposed to be here yet. Your time wasn't meant to end like this."

Mary pleaded, taking a step closer, her voice filled with desperate urgency. "Then send me back. I need to go back. My family… My brother…" Her voice trailed off, filled with the weight of her unfinished and unfulfilled life...

The boy shook his head slowly from right to left, a plain gesture of impossibility. "I can't."

Mary clenched her fists and her knuckles, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, her frustration building. "Why not?"

He walked over and sat down on the chair in the center of the room, his gaze steady on her. "Because once a soul crosses over, it can't return to the living world. The connection is severed."

Her breath came out sharp, and she instinctively stepped back. "That's not fair."

"I know," he replied, his voice soft, acknowledging her pain without offering a false hope...

Mary's hands trembled, her eyes widened, filled with the image of Michael's heartbroken face. "He needs me."

The boy's expression softened, a hint of empathy in his dark eyes. "I know."

She swallowed hard, her throat feeling constricted. "Then why am I here? What is this place?"

"This is the space between," he answered simply.

"The space between what?" Mary countered him, demanding more.

The boy looked up at her, his gaze unwavering. "Life and death."

Mary's throat tightened again, her palms feeling sweaty despite her state. "So… I'm not in heaven? Or hell?"

The boy shook his head. "Not yet. This is just a temporary stop."

She hugged her shoulders tightly, a self-comforting gesture as soon as she heard him. "Why am I stuck here?"

He studied her for a moment, his gaze was penetrating. "Because you don't want to move on."

Mary's heart pounded as she looked back up at him. "Of course, I don't want to! My little brother is suffering, and I can't do anything about it!" Her voice was filled with anger and protective sisterly love...

The boy sighed, a gentle release of air. "That's the problem."

Mary frowned, confusion clouding her expression. "What do you mean?"

He leaned forward slightly, his posture open. "You're holding on to something. Your profound love for your brother, your deep pain, your unresolved regrets. Those things are keeping you here, anchoring you to this space."

She looked downwards, her eyes welling up, almost sobbing. "How do I let go?"

The boy's tone suddenly became gentle, filled with compassion. "You don't have to let go of your love for him. But you do have to accept that you can't change what happened. You have to accept your new reality."

Mary bit her bottom lip again, the familiar habit offering a small comfort. "I don't want to leave him alone."

The boy hesitated for a moment. Then, he stood up from the chair. "There's something I can show you."

She looked up, her eyes widening with a sudden spark of hope. "What?"

He held out his hand, his palm open and inviting her. "Come with me."

Mary hesitated only briefly, her desire to see what he wanted to show overriding her apprehension. Then, slowly, tentatively, she reached out and took his hand...

The moment their fingers touched, the white room around them blurred instantly, dissolving into an explosion of colors and shapes...

Then, suddenly, the blur cleared up, and they were standing in Michael's bedroom...

Mary gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth in surprise and overwhelming emotion... "Michael?"

He was sitting on his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them in a tight embrace of comfort. His room was dark, the curtains drawn, blocking out the daylight. His phone lay discarded on the floor beside him, its screen cracked. His desk was covered in papers, some crumpled, others covered in scribbled words she couldn't read from where she stood. The air in the room felt heavy with his sadness...

Her heart ached, a deep, unbearable pain. He looked so lost, so utterly alone...

She turned to the boy beside her. "Can he see me now?"

The boy shook his head slowly from left to right, his expression somber...

Mary's throat burned with unshed tears, her frustration returning... "Then what's the point?" If he couldn't see her, what good was this?

The boy didn't answer, simply observing Michael...

Michael suddenly shifted, getting up from his bed. He reached under his bed and pulled out a small, blue box...

Mary narrowed her eyes, her facial expression visibly sad as she recognized the object...

It was the wooden box she had given him two years ago for his birthday. She had painted it blue, his favorite color...

She watched as he opened it with hands that were visibly shaking... Inside were small, cherished memories...old pictures, a few crumpled notes, and a bracelet she had made him when they were kids, woven from colorful threads...

Michael picked up one of the pictures. It was of them at the park, taken on a sunny afternoon... During their holiday, she had her arm around him, both of them smiling widely as they took the picture together...

A single tear dropped, falling onto the photograph, leaving a wet mark...

"I miss you, Mary," he whispered, his voice cracking, his words were a raw confession of pain...

Mary's eyes blurred with tears, her own sorrow mirroring his as he began to cry, tears streaming down her nonexistent face. She didn't know how she was able to cry, but the tears were undeniably there...

Michael gripped the bracelet tightly in his hand, clutching it... "I don't know how to do this without you."

Mary stepped closer, her heart aching with the desire to comfort him, even though she knew he couldn't feel her presence. "You're not alone, Michael," she whispered, her voice filled with sisterly love...

The boy beside her spoke, his voice gentle but firm. "He's stronger than you think."

Mary shook her head, a fresh wave of fear washing over her. "But what if he tries to kill himself again?"

"He won't." The boy's voice was firm, unwavering. "He's hurting deeply. But he won't make the same choice again. He has a reason to live now."

Mary turned to him, searching his eyes for confirmation. "How do you know?"

The boy met her eyes directly, his gaze filled with certainty. "Because you saved him. Your sacrifice gave him a new perspective, a reason to fight for his life."

Mary's breath hitched, a silent sob escaping her. Even her eyes became watery again, the tears flowing freely. The realization, the affirmation of her sacrifice, was altogether overwhelming...

Michael wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, taking a deep, shaky breath, and then whispered to the photos, "I'll try to keep going. For you."

Mary's heart squeezed with a profound mix of sadness and peace....

The room started to blur again, the image of Michael fading...

The boy let go of her hand, his touch dissipating. "It's time to go."

Mary's vision darkened, the comforting image of Michael's room dissolving into the familiar white room...