#achak.

Recovering from an episode was never easy- especially one so strong.

Achak blinked away the lingering images in his eyes, the taste of blood being registered on his tongue. His whole body left groggy and almost lost as he tried to sit up, coughing a bit.

“Fuck me…” The investigator groaned as the soreness was felt more when he moved. The ringing in his ears started to sizzle away along with the sound of the ghost box- completely silent.

As much as Achak would've loved to just relax and get his bearings- he couldn't. He heard the backyard door being opened, which meant the house owner would find him. He would know about Finly and her body. He huffed with effort as he dragged himself out from the small crack behind the shed, abandoning the tarp covered body to be collected later.

The owner watched as Achak stumbled with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and he knew he had been caught. “The hell are you doing back there?”

Achak spat out some of the blood before turning to see the man reach over for something near the door he couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a thank you gift.

“I saw it all,” Achak started, trying to talk the man out of whatever stupid lash back he'd try. Taking, standing, and trying to focus was so much harder than what it should be. He felt like he was stumbling over himself like an idiot- like his mental engine was sputtering. “If you try anything else, your sentence will be worse. You don't want this.”

“There won't be a sentence if no one finds out.” The detective blinked a few more times, trying to refocus his eyes like a camera lense as the man held up a long brown…thing.

A baseball bat.

The owner charged at Achak with an animalistic roar, holding up the bat. Achak’s vision immediately blurred over again when the man came towards him too fast for him to register- but he wasn't completely blind. Gritting his already sore teeth, Achak held up his arms for self defense.

The hit was right where Achak hoped it would land- somewhere on either of his arms. When the bat slammed into his right arm his left one moved and grabbed the bat before the owner could pull back.

The man tugged the bat, but Achak already had a firm death grip on it. With his right arm still thrumming from pain, the detective reached down underneath his coat towards his belt for his gun.

When his hand found the holster, it was as easy as grabbing the grip of the pistol and bringing it up towards the assailant with as much force as he could muster. A hardy metallic thud filled Achak’s ears as the pistol made direct contact with the man. He wasn't too sure where he hit him, but it sounded painful.

The owner staggered back with a pain filled groan, dropping his bat in favor of clutching his wounded area. After Achak focused again, he realized it was the man’s head- there was a red mark already forming on the man’s face. Time was of the essence now.

Achak tossed his gun aside and grabbed the bat with both hands, and with more focused aim he quickly slammed the bat into the owner’s leg. He toppled over, the pain being too much for one person to handle.

The detective would've loved to give it a few more whacks as a payback for Finly, but he quickly reminded himself that he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. So instead he scrambled to find some discarded rope nearby as the man withered in the grass.

With rope in hand Achak grabbed one of the man’s arms, and then the other. The visions of Finly simmered again as he came in contact with the murderer, but he forced himself through it.

The man wiggled in his bindings, his face even redded with anger. “Let me fucking go! I'll kill you!”

Achak didn't even pay him mind, he simply walked to where he tossed his gun and slipped it back into the holster. Still ignoring the owner yelling out obscenities, Achak made his way through the house until he was exiting through the front door again. He unlocked his car and grabbed the small little walkie talkie. He pressed the button on the side and spoke.

“Dispatch, this is Achak. I need backup at 125 Carty Street. Suspect in custody, but I need assistance securing the scene and transporting the suspect. Over."

A familiar voice responded. "Copy that, Achak. Backup is en route. Hold tight, buddy.”

Achak sighed with relief he hadn't felt for the entire time he's been here. He pressed the button again to give a quick reply back. “Thank you, Averyll.”

He didn't get a response back this time, but it was okay. Backup was coming and he'd be able to get this mess wrapped up and the case could start going underway. The detective leaned against his car as the stress of the situation started to settle in- his breathing getting slightly ragged and tears prickled in his eyes. Achak let out a shaky sigh as he wiped the tears away, the smell of lavender filling his nose with every sniffle.

It was always hard doing personal cases. You knew the people, you knew the family- and now you're trying to find their dead body. It never got easier.

“Look, I just want to search the house and ask a few questions.” Achak tried to reason with the man behind the door, but he didn't budge.

“You have no right to search my house.”

Achak fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “I have a warrant. Do you know what that is?” He wasn't trying to come off rude, but it was getting harder not to. He dug into the pocket of his coat and held out a piece of paper. The man snatched it from Achak’s hand and read it over with a frown. “I suggest you let me in before I come in on my own terms.”

The man tried to argue again but Achak simply pushed him out of the way. He couldn't ignore the lingering energy in the house, a smell of lavender in the back of his nose.

The house looked fine. There were no immediate signs of foul play- but something was off. Achak could feel a disturbance in the air around him, like ripples in the water that brushed against his skin. The investigator pulled out a hand-held device and turned it on, the static noise rippling through the air. A spirit box.

Achak walked through the house, speaking aloud to the thing he felt around him. “I can feel you here. Can you hear me?”

He didn't get a response, which wasn't surprising. He opened the door to a bedroom that didn't hold any spikes in energy.

“If you're there, say something to make yourself clear to me.” Achak continued, moving to another mellow bedroom. “I'm looking for a friend. Finly.”

He moved to the bathroom before stopping in the doorway. The smell of lavender was stronger there, a headache forming. Achak didn't step into the bathroom, but he held out the spirit box into the room. The owner of the house watched Achak like he was a mad man, seeing no way this person could be a legitimate investigator.

“Can you see me?” Achak asked again, hoping maybe a different question would get better results. The static was the same in the room, only the frequency changing slightly. “Speak now before I go to a different room.” He could feel the energy solidifying somewhat, the feeling getting heavier on his shoulders.

Achak waited a few more seconds before a voice creeped in through the static of the spirit box. “See you.” There was a small sigh of relief the investigator let out before the box spoke again. “Can hear.”

Cut up responses were common with this method so Achak wasn't surprised. “Who am I speaking to?”

“You know.”

It was the truth. Achak did know. Finly had a way she carried herself in life, and it didn't go away in death. Her energy was sweet and light, which made it hard to keep a track on her unless she was intentionally focusing it.

“This is a bunch of bullshit.” The owner remarked, frowning at Achak and his silly speaking box.

Achak paid the man no mind, asking another question. “What happened to you?”

“No.”

“Show me then.” Achak insisted, needing to know what happened to his friend. The presence shifted away from the bathroom, almost tugging Achak along like a cartoon character floating with the smell of warm pie.

Achak followed Finly’s lingering trail to the back half of the house to the stairs that went downstairs. “Down?” Achak asked, wanting confirmation.

“Down.”

“Very good.”

He carefully went down the stairs to the half of the house that held the washer and dryer. It wasn't very decorated downstairs, proving to just be a laundry area.

“Out.”

Achak nodded and walked until he reached the backdoor. Opening it he was led into the backyard, a bland one at that. The smell of lavender was almost unbearable now as it worsened Achak’s headache- but he couldn't give up.

Finly didn't talk anymore through the spirit box which left Ahak alone to try and find any clues. It was hard with the constant thumping behind his skull and the warmth in his face but he needed to prevail.

After a few minutes the smell of lavender was actually sickening. Achak felt his mouth watering with the need to hurl the closer he got to the huge shed. He looked inside first, but it was almost completely bare- save for a few tools. He was close though. He knew it.

Achak stepped out of the shed with a dizziness in his movements. Instead he moved around the shed to look at the small strip of grass behind it.

“Oh, God.” Achak groaned at the feeling of his headache worsening somehow. He felt like he needed to crack his skull open to relieve the pressure. Instead Achak pushed through and squeezed himself between the shed and the wooden fence. There was a blue tarp seemingly lazily tossed onto the ground, something Achak hoped it wasn't but knew it was what he thought it was. He got closer and grabbed the tarp with a hand, struggling to pull it back in such a cramped area.

If the smell of lavender wasn't so strong the smell of decomposition surely would've been the reason Achak almost passed out.

“Ugly.” The spirit box in Achak’s pocket mumbled aloud as he uncovered the body. It never stopped repeating the same word as he did.

The body was in early decomposition, halfway buried and above ground. It was a rushed job. There were obvious scarring on Finly’s neck and wrists that looked like rope. Achak let out a heavy sigh to suppress the feeling of crying. It was clear as day- she was beaten and strangled to death. Finly had bruises all over her body, her clothes halfway removed.

“I need to know what happened.” Achak spoke out to Finly’s ghost, asking for permission to touch her body. The spirit box wouldn't give a good enough answer for her death, he needed to get personal. “Please Finly.”

There was silence, but the box finally gave a proper reply. “Do it.”

Achak took a deep breath and reached out to gently touch Finly’s cold cheek before everything seemed to zoom in on him.

The vision was blurry and a flash of different scenes all at the wrong time but it was what he needed. Achak tried to slow down the pictures and videos to get a clear timeline, fighting to get his own power to work for him.

“No, please! No! Stop it!” Finly cried out. She was pushed against the wall in the bathroom, a man shoving her. The man was the same one who opened the door, Achak noticed. It didn't matter how much Finly cried and sobbed as the man ripped and pulled her pants down, revealing what she truly was.

The girl couldn't even see through her tears as the bathroom door was opened to show more people what she was. A boy pretending to be a girl. Achak could feel her fear and shame soaking into his body as she fell to the floor. There was a lingering taste of alcohol as the group of both men and women all grabbed Finly, tugging her up off her feet and out the bathroom.

She hit the floor with a thud, a spark of pain shooting up Achak’s side. It was a blur of firsts and shoes as she was bombarded with kicks and punches, each one making her scream and cry harder. It was getting harder to have a clear view on what was happening in the vision as all sound was fading into a loud ringing.

In an instant the vision stopped, leaving Achak along with the only sound being ringing. Everything felt still. He turned around to see Finly, her body bruised and the scarring still there as she covered her face and cried.

The courtroom was always stuffed full of contradicting energies, so many smells and feelings that weren't his own. Achak took a deep breath to gather himself. He smelt the lavender perfume he put on- a small attempt to adapt himself to the onslaught of Finly’s presence during the case.

Achak stood before the judge, a middle aged woman who didn't look too impressed. He could smell some rustic energy in her, something Achak frequently understands to be the loss of a father. He shook off the added weight to his stress before addressing the judge herself.

“You honor, I understand my methods of solving cases may be outlandish, but I ask that you have some confidence in my abilities.” Achak spoke to her, wanting to clear some air. He wasn't stupid, he knew his visions made him look like a lunatic who needed to be in the loony-bin, but he just needed her to grant him a sliver of her acceptance. If he got that he'd feel more comfortable about his chances.

The woman didn't seem impressed, but she answered anyway. “As you were, Mr Quinn.” Achak thanked her quietly before turning around to face the crowd of people sitting in the courtroom. That's where the overwhelming presences were lingering the most. There was a tight knit group who reeked of Finly’s death, and it was obvious it was her family. Achak was reminded of Ozzy, who due to being water bound wasn't allowed to come.

“Finly attended a party before the attack, a night that turned into a horrific tragedy,” He started, keeping his voice firm and level as he spoke. It resonated in the quiet courtroom where everyone was watching and listening. It was all on his shoulders. “She thought it was a simple house party, as stated by both Finly’s family and her boyfriend. She never went anywhere without telling anyone. Finly was smart, and wanted to be safe.”

Achak turned and walked a short distance before stopping in front of the wooden podium that held the house owner he met earlier, the same man who had a part in Finly’s death. “This man was the one who had the idea to lie to her, get her comfortable before attacking. I know this because we have text receipts of him confirming the plan with the rest of the accused.” Achak felt the man’s eyes burn into his skull, but he didn't stop.

“When I touched her cold, dead body I had a vision- a very violent one at that. They had gotten her drunk before this man cornered her in the bathroom. Finly, being weak and drunk, she couldn't stand up for herself when this man started to take off her pants. She tried to fight back but it was useless, he was stronger than her. In the end he was able to pull down her pants and undergarments to prove that she was in fact a biological male.”

Achack finished his statement with a sigh, filling his lungs again before pushing out more evidence. The lavender smell was getting stronger than just his perfume.

“With her identity forcibly shown she was too distressed to do anything but crumble to the bathroom floor crying. The bathroom door was opened, and the other accused saw Finly, saw what she was. It didn't take long before they grabbed her and dragged her out the bathroom onto the floor in the hall- where they started to mercilessly beat her.”

There was a wave of deep and rich presence that wafted through the crowd. Achak recognized it immediately as grief as the family seemed to huddle closer together, wanting comfort as their daughter’s murder was spoken aloud. Achak grabbed the small remote he had in his pocket and pointed it at the projector to his left, standing besides the accused’s stand. He pressed a button and a picture of Finly’s body came up on the screen.

Achak walked closer before using his pointer finger to circle around Finly’s worn and scarred neck. “Right here you can see obvious scars from rope. Same for her wrists.” He gestured there too, making sure nothing went unnoticed. “Evidence proved by the autopsy tells us she had been beaten before getting tied up on the wrists, where was abused more until her death by strangulation occured.”

“Now, why couldn't you see this in your vision? Why are you suddenly relying on the autopsy?” The defendant spoke out from his place, making Achak turn to look at him.

“I can't withstand visions too long or else I may die from my seizures.” Achak stated the fact. The defendent didn't seem too interested.

“Well, how do we know your flimsy vision was accurate anyways? All we know you could've made up a timeline and tied it in with her death.”

Achak felt his face getting warm, he was insulted that this man had the audacity. “If it's anything to you, your client still had the body in his backyard. His prints were on the shovel used to dig the grave- either way he's fucked!”

When Achak yelled the crowd seemed to get riled, words being exchanged as the prosecutor seemed to be losing his grip. The judge banged on her desk with the small wooden hammer, her voice carrying louder than everyone else's. “Order!” She demanded, which only sizzled the room down enough that Achak could think again.

He glared that the defendent with a look one that could be described as hate. Achak could feel his heart thumping in his chest, his whole body getting warm. The energies in the room were mixing and mingling together in a sickening feeling that made his head ache in pain.

“How are we supposed to believe just some texts and your hocus pocus vision? Maybe you planted the texts and framed my client? You seem to be quite confident in the timeline, Mr Quinn.” The cocky defendent continued to mock Achak, pointing fingers where they weren't supposed to be pointed.

The judge ordered the defendent to stop his accusations and focus on defending the client, but Achak couldn't hear her. His mind was twisting in a way that made him dizzy. Smells and sights were sewing into his senses- smelling lavender so strong it was like he was trapped inside the plant. The dependent’s face was contorting and morphing into something different that wasn't human, his face changing colors as his skin seemed to turn into stained glass.

Achak was breaking down like a fraction, his mind crumbling under the stress. He saw things in the corner of his eye that vanished when he turned, the walls seemingly started to move and dance the more he tried to focus on them.

“Are you sure you weren't drinking when investigating, Mr Quinn?” The more feline looking defendent asked, his green and orange ears flicking as he spoke.

Achak wiped the forming sweat off his face before speaking. “No, I'm sure I wasn't. I don't… I don't drink. I never have.” His words were fumbling out of his mouth like a car on a bumpy highway.

Achak saw the man’s mouth moving more but he didn't hear anything, only whispers that didn't match his mouth. He felt something larger was watching him but he pushed back the thought. “I'm sorry, can you say that again?” He asked, resting a hand on his throbbing forehead.

“We asked if you're okay, Mr Quinn.” His assistant asked, her voice breaking through the whispers. She looked and sounded fine, but she had a worried expression on her face. “You're awfully pale.”

Achak ignored the last statement and turned to look at the judge, but she wasnt there. Instead there was a creature, it's arms skinny like bone and longer than any normal human’s. It's legs were so long it sat with it's knees to its chest, skin so tight on its body you could see a defined ribcage. It's mouth moved like it was talking, but it was only whispering- but the whispers were so loud it was engulfing. It's blood stained teeth looked disgusting, it's sunken eyes watched Achak frozen in time.

He only moved to look away when his assistant grabbed his arm, tugging him outside the courtroom. “Mr Quinn, we're taking a break. You're unfolding out there.”

Achak stumbled out of the courtroom, his senses overwhelmed by the surreal visions and distorted reality that seemed to plague his every perception.

His assistant guided him to a secluded area, away from the prying eyes and intrusive whispers that lingered in the courthouse. Achak, struggling to regain his composure, focused on the lavender scent lingering from his perfume, a small anchor in the disorienting sea of sensations.

"I... I don't know what's happening," Achak mumbled, his words a shaky admission of his unraveling state. His mind felt like a kaleidoscope of fragmented images and distorted sounds.

His assistant looked at him with concern. "You need to take a moment, Achak. Breathe and ground yourself. We can't proceed if you're not in control.”

Achak covered his eyes with his hands and took steady breathes. After a few minutes the whispers seemed to quiet, and his headache dulled. He felt mentally beaten and exhausted. It was taking everything to not just breakdown crying. “I can't do this…”

“Yes you can,” The assistant replied, her voice soft and caring. “Remember who you're doing this for. You can't let her down.”

There was a hand on Achak’s shoulder, and it brought him peace. The kind woman carried no supernatural luggage, she was a clean slate like Finly was. It was like the final deep breath Achak needed before he nodded and decided to just bite the bullet.

“They have been found guilty on the charges of first degree murder and hate crime. They will serve 35 years in jail…” The judge’s voice rang through the room, but was quickly drowned out by the family’s cheering. Achak had eventually gotten through, and proved all the people in his vision guilty. It felt good, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.