"What would she gain from it, y'know? Makes her seem different and unique or whatever, sure, but it's such a random thing to make up. I don't know, Felix, this definitely needs further investigation," Annabel rambles as she paces back and forth in my room.

"All right, Poirot, calm down."

"She didn't make a big deal out of it either. All of the phonies we've met before have been so dramatic and in your face, but she said it like it was the most normal thing ever."

"Uh-huh."

Annabel stops pacing and faces me with her hands on her hips. She raises her eyebrows. "Are you even listening to me?"

"I just think it's horse crap. She had no idea you were there earlier," I reason.

"Just because she didn't make a song and dance about it, doesn't mean she couldn't see me." She rolls her eyes. "And ugh, at least make the effort to learn her name. It's Ava. Ava, Katie, Carmen, Jamie, Tom, and Mason."

"Yeah, yeah. Did she look at you at any point?"

"Well, no, but--"

"There we go then. If she could interact with you then she would've acknowledged you, she couldn't not," I argue. "Whatever, I'm just pissed that half my potatoes are bruised, and don't even get me started on the fact I'm going to have to eat all my bacon on the sly."

Ava's announcement caught me off guard at first, I'll give her that, but it's nothing worth dwelling on. It made the kitchen awkwardness peak because the sentence, I communicate with spirits, is a bit of a conversation killer. It's not like speaking to dead people is exciting, anyway; they generally whine at you until you sort their shit out for them, and that's that. Bit annoying, if anything.

One of the boys, Tom I think, is organising a flat party here tonight, so I'm hoping throwing some alcohol into the mix will have us all acting like best friends in no time. Annabel is still blathering on when I hear a quiet knock on my bedroom door. I tell her to hush, then swing it open to see a pair of dark brown, almost black, eyes gazing into my own.

"Whoa, hey," Ava says as if she didn't expect anyone to open the door she just knocked. "Tom said pre-drinks start in an hour, and the cleaners come every other Friday."

Bit weird. I thank Ava and go to close my door, but she stops me.

"You're the one with the funny name, aren't you?"

"Uh, probably. It's Felix."

"Groovy, like the cat?"

I nod slowly. Ava shoots me one more toothy smile before stepping away and moving on to the next door. Okay then.

Annabel has disappeared by the time I turn back around, and so I take it as my chance to pull open the drawer I've already christened as my alcohol stash. It only has a bottle of bourbon and a few beers in it at the moment, but it'll soon bloom. Before I can take that thought any further, one of the beers flings out of the drawer and lands with a thump onto my bed.

"You can't get drunk on your first night here, that's not fair!"

I spin around to see that Annabel has returned with her infamous scowl. While never knowing my mother can often suck, it's not all bad when her replacement stalks me every second of my life. I miss the days--well, day--when she had no idea who I was. She was a lot less annoying back then.

We didn't recognise each other after the accident, but I quickly figured it out from the family photo that was shoved in my face daily, as the doctors and psychiatrists attempted to spark my memory. It was just the one. My parents must have hated photos or something.

"Felix!" Annabel whines.

I grab a different bottle from the drawer, crack it open with my teeth, and flash Annabel the most sarcastic grin I can muster up.

"I'm going to be bored all night, please?" she pleads. "And stop trying to wind me up!"

"I'm your brother, annoying you defines my existence." I wink at her, but she just pouts even more. "C'mon Annie, it's freshers' week, I'm not spending it sober. I'm not going crazy every night or anything, but at least let me have some fun."

She mumbles something under her breath and, knowing she can't argue back, disappears in a strop. Alcohol tampers with my ability to interact with anything non-living, by which I mean it removes all traces of the ability. I can't see them and I can't hear them. I sure have no complaints, but it leaves Annabel with no one to talk to.

Once I'm done with the beer, I open my drawer to bring out the bottle of bourbon. I don't know what I'm expecting when I wander into the kitchen, but it isn't the uncomfortable social mess that I stumble upon.

Everyone is in there, but Tom and Mason are the only ones talking. If it wasn't for the music blasting from someone's portable speaker, it would pretty much be silent. The rest of my flatmates are quietly sipping their drinks and avoiding eye contact with one another. Tough crowd. I set my bottle of bourbon onto the kitchen island, pour the brown liquid into the bottle's cap, and take a shot. Anything to spice up this night.

Two hours, five games of Irish Snap, and who knows how many drinks later, everyone's shells have practically exploded open. Around fifteen other people have arrived by now, and there's a large group in the midst of an intense debate over the legalisation of cannabis. A bit predictable, but hey, whatever keeps conversation flowing.

I'm a little concerned about Jamie, the lanky kid, as he's slumped on one of the sofas looking like he may possibly die some time soon. Ava and Carmen are chatting beside the kitchen island, while Tom and I sit with our backs against the large window that looks down on the canal running alongside our building. And I feel fantastic.

"You fancying any of the girls?" Tom asks me, making me open my eyes I didn't realise had closed.

"Huh?"

"Carmen's the fittest," he elaborates. "Not spoken to her or anything, but I'm gonna go for it. Not like that's important, right?" Tom winks.

"How d'you know you'll like her if you've never spoken?"

Tom laughs, but I'm missing the joke. "You're funny, I like you," he says.

He's still laughing as he stands up and leaves the kitchen to presumably go to the bathroom. I still don't get it. I mull it over in my head as Carmen jumps off her stool and heads over to me. Oh shit, did she hear all of that? I'm still thinking over what Tom said when she sits down into the space he left behind.

"Hey," she begins. "I've not really spoken to you properly yet, so figured I'd come over."

What did Tom mean, goddamnit? I suck at riddles, man. I've been trying to learn the she sells sea shells one since I was a foetus, but can't even get past the first--Wait, no, is that a tongue twister? Are they the same as riddles? Hang on, what was I trying to figure out? Oh, the Tom thing. Yeah, I mean, if he's not spoken to Carmen, how can he know--

"Oh, wait, he just wants a one-night stand!"

"Pardon?"

It suddenly occurs to me that I said that out loud. I stammer as my muddied mind tries to conjure up an explanation. "Nothing, I just--It was something Jamie said."

Considering the guy's currently half conscious and in no state to be argued with, I figure that was the least harmful thing to say. If anything, Carmen looks even more confused. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her plump lips are parted to leave her mouth slightly agape.

"Sorry," I try again. "I say things."

I don't know why I end it there, but I do.

"Um, okay."

"Sorry, again. If it's any reassurance, I've no idea what the hell I'm on about either. I liked your story, by the way, with the goldfish and the puppies and the feng shui," I say in a poor attempt to change the subject.

"Thanks," she replies. She leans in and takes a sip from the plastic cup in her hand, but locks her eyes on me the whole time. "Now c'mon, what's your secret."

"Huh?"

"The vegetarianism thing is cool--I sure couldn't do it, but you're definitely hiding something. You were going to say something else, but you didn't."

She's good, I'll give her that. There's a glimmer in her yellow-brown eyes as she watches me expectedly, and she smells like vodka. I tell her she's wrong, and she tells me she's right, so I tell her she's wrong again. I'm studying her lips and they're a little chapped, but I kind of want to kiss them and I'm not sure why. All too soon, Carmen turns away as her laugh circles the air around us. She has a small bump on the bridge of her nose.

"I'll get it out of you one day, you hear me?" she says as she takes another sip of her drink. She faces me again. "Can't be any stranger than Ava's fact."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." I mutter, half to myself.

"Ha! So there is something!"

Damnit. Oh, she's really good. Either that, or I'm an idiot. Probably the latter. I shrug as indifferently as possible, to which she raises her eyebrows. She's notably tanned, but other than her angular eyes, her features look European.

We're both silent as we scan each other's faces, and we remain like that for a while, neither one of us daring to leave the eyes of the other. It's Carmen who caves first, as she turns away with another airy laugh. Finally, I focus my attention back to what's ahead of me, and staring straight back at me from the far corner of the room is a tall figure with irises blacker than anything I've ever seen.

The cup in my hand falls to the floor. I'm distracted as Carmen stands up and says something about kitchen roll, but my eyes soon flicker back to the corner of the room. It's still there. It's staring at me. Every inch of my body has suddenly turned numb. You can't see them when you're drunk, you can't see them, you can't see them.

I feel sick. I feel really sick.

I'm imagining this, I have to be. There's a cartoonish frown on its grey face, and its hollow gaze is filling me with an immense feeling of emptiness. Its arms hang limply at its side, and if I didn't feel like I was in the midst of choking, I'd find its gangly limbs and knobbly knees almost comedic. I want to turn away, but I can't. I'm fixated on it. I'm cold. Why is it so cold? The sound of the party has become a monotonous buzzing sound underneath my heavy breathing. Why is it staring at me?

"Felix? Hey, are you all right?"

I need to get out of here.

Looking anywhere but the corner of the room, I jump up from the floor and charge towards the doorway. Everything is spinning. I barge into someone as I leave. They say something but I don't hear them, and my vision is beginning to blur.

"Felix!" a voice calls after me. I ignore it.

Once I've left the room I quicken my pace, look back up, and it's there. Slightly hidden under the shadows, it lurks at the back of the hallway, its blank stare boring into me. This isn't real, you're making it up, this isn't real. Slowly, as if inspecting me, its head starts to turn sideways.

Nope.

I turn on my heel and head straight for my flat's exit. I stumble slightly, and I'm not sure if it's due to the dizziness or the drunkenness. The creature is already standing at the end of the next hallway. I avert my gaze to anything other than it, and charge down the stairs.

I don't stop until I reach the ground floor, by which point the urge to throw up has overcome everything else. My vision is so blurred that I can barely see, and my skin is crawling. I shove open the front door to inhale the fresh autumn air, and it's more intoxicating than any drug could ever be. Within seconds, my vision is switched off like a light, I stumble to the ground, and suddenly there's nothing.

For a moment, I consider the possibility of being dead.

"Whoa, are you okay?"

The voice is smooth and melodic, and if this is how angels sound then I can't complain. A hand brushes my cheek, and it's ice cold against my burning skin. This death thing is nice, I'm down for this. As I flicker my eyelids open, I'm momentarily disappointed to realise that based on the fact I'm sitting on the damp concrete outside my university accommodation, my back against the the brick wall, I'm alive and kicking.

Directly in front of me, her legs crossed in the same way Annabel crosses hers, is Ava. She's waving her slender hand in front of my face. I try to speak but my voice is lost.

"Here," she says, handing me the cup in her hand.

As I drink from it, I'm surprised to find that the clear liquid inside is nothing but water. I glug it down my throat as if my sanity depends on it. It's drizzling and the air is a lot snappier than I remember it being earlier, but it relieves me. I'm sweating out the entire Lake District. I thank Ava before handing back the near-empty cup of water.

"I can't hear them when I drink."

I narrow my eyes at her, confused. She lifts her head up to the dark sky, and I mirror her to see the moon barely peeking through the dark clouds. I lower my head as Ava lowers hers, and she chuckles at the bewildered expression still planted on my face.

"The spirits. I can't drink, otherwise I won't hear them."

Maybe Annabel was right about her. I mean, that can't be a coincidence. I have the sudden urge to tell her everything, to know if she understands what I am, to ask her if she saw the creature that drove me insane moments ago. But I don't. I'm honestly doubting that thing was even real now. It wasn't like anything else I've ever seen.

"What do they look like?" I ask quietly, grasping onto the hope that I'll hear something that makes sense.

"Oh, whoa, no, I can't see them. No one can see them."

Well, this is awkward.

"Are you feeling better?" she questions, and I'm grateful for the change of subject.

"Yeah, thanks, I--I guess I drank too much or something, I don't know. Just wasn't feeling great," I say as I scratch the back of my head. "What happened? I don't really remember, I mean, did I pass out?"

Ava nods. "You looked like shit."

I laugh. "Cheers."

She parts her lips to speak, only to hesitate, but eventually says what's on her mind. "Sorry to sound rude but I can't read your aura, and it's been bothering me all day." She pauses. "Can I try something? Would you mind?"

For reasons beyond me, I say yes. I blame it on the small amount of alcohol I'm yet to sweat out. Ava reaches out and cups her hands around mine, which look shockingly dull and white compared to hers. I've never seen anyone focus on anything as intently as she's focusing on me right now. She frowns.

"Maybe it's the alcohol," she mutters. "Whoa, okay, clear your mind. Focus on your breathing and nothing else, and don't let your thoughts wander. Close your eyes, that always helps."

I obey Ava like a well-functioned robot, mainly because I'm pretty tired by this point and can't refuse a bit of shut-eye. I empty my mind as best I can, and concentrating on my breathing is helping me calm it. This is nice. I could get used to this. I'm so engrossed in the experience that I barely notice the falling sensation, or the high-pitched buzzing that's becoming increasingly louder.

There's a face, a woman's face. She's screaming something but I can't hear her because the humming in my ear is too loud. Her brown hair is tangled and sprawled over her face, and there's blood streaming from her nose. There are tears flooding her eyes. She keeps screaming. She keeps screaming, but I keep not hearing her. Her eyes are the wildest I've ever seen.

The humming sound comes to a sudden stop, and what follows hits me like a freight train. There's screaming and crying and a deep rumbling shaking the earth I stand on, but I can't see anything but the face in front of me.

"Don't look at them! Listen to me, don't look at them, okay? Pretend they're not there! Don't look at them, please, don't look at them!"

And then everything is black again. I dart my eyes open and yank my hands away from Ava's without a second thought. My head feels light again, my vision blurred.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" she enquires.

"I just--I just feel sick again, sorry, I--uh..."

Ava says something else but I don't hear it. That face, those eyes. I know them. I know that face. It's not one I recognise from memory, but it's one I know. From the one photograph that's ingrained into my memory, I know that face as my mother's.