The candle passed into her hands. She had been both awaiting and fearing this moment. She was blessed and cursed by the same thing. That she was psychic had been wonderful, but she was dogged by television reporters almost daily.
She could not remember a time when she did not know she was psychic. With the exception of one incident, those five years were blanks. With the exception of one incident, she wished she could remember those years; she wished she could forget one incident and remember the rest of the years.
The face of a phantom confronted her. Tell them, tell them... it mocked.
"My name ... is Paula Polestar. You probably know who I am." The candle flickered slightly as a gentle breeze wafted through the room. "You probably know what I've done. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is what I have to say."
Paula sighed, trying to choose the right words. The people in the circle watched intently, some more than others, one more than all the rest.
Tell them... remember the pain. My pain, your pain, our pain; everyone's pain, the phantom's face urged.
"I wasn't always aware of who I was. Once, I was just a normal girl. I've tried to return to normalcy, but my notoriety has assured I'll never be normal again." Paula fought back tears. "It all started back then. Way back then..."

"I was five then. We weren't living in Twoson at the time; we lived in what's now a ghost town, Five Rivers. The Preschool was just a flicker in my parents' eyes. They were taking courses at the Five Rivers community college.
"I was already exhibiting budding psychic powers. In kindergarten, I was already being excluded from games like seven-up and hide and seek. I was just too good, they said. But it didn't bother me much. I made a friend there.
"That friendship didn't last long... If only I could have done more. Maybe I'd still have that friend."
"What friend?" a woman asked.
"Just a friend. She trusted me. And I..." Fighting back her tears, Paula drew into herself and began to explain...

"It was early June. There were rumours the coal mine which powered Five Rivers' economy were closing down. People had already started moving away. The kindergarten and first grade teachers had already been consolidated, and all elementary and secondary teaching took place at the old high school. Stores were closing as if there were no tomorrow.
"But that's not relevant to my story. That day, after school, my best friend Dana Parsons and I went into the coal mine. It wasn't being used that day; the sporadic usage contributed to the rumours it would close down.
"The mine shaft was dark, and it smelt of sweat. Luckily we had bandannas we could stifle the smell with and flashlights so we could see." Inwardly, she envisioned the dank shaft. It was darker than her vision when her eyes were closed. "We knew it was stupid, foolhardy, but we wanted to do it.
"We walked deeper into the mine shaft. The stench was even worse there; it stunk through our bandannas, stung our eyes. We squinted so we wouldn't get blinded by the stench.
"'Follow me, Paula!' Dana cried. 'Let's see how far down this shaft we can go!'
"'But our mothers told us not to go into the shaft at all,' I answered. 'If they find out we went into the shaft, they might ground us, Dana.'
"'What are you, chicken?' mocked Dana. She proceeded to walk like a chicken, embarrassing me."
"Did you actually go further into the shaft?" a man wondered.
"Please ... please don't interrupt me," Paula asked. She began her narrative again. "Yeah, I went deeper down the shaft. I didn't have a good reputation; I didn't want to ruin it. I had one friend; I didn't want to lose her." A single tear escaped Paula's eyes, hearing the irony in that statement.
"Minutes later, we were so deep down we couldn't see past our own faces, even with our flashlights — if you can believe that... I begged Dana to turn around, but she wouldn't hear of it.
"'You're giving up?' she asked, surprised. 'Chicken. I'm going on ahead.'"
"Then it happened. I had a sudden flash; I saw Dana falling and screaming, hitting the water."
"'Dana, wait!' I yelled, trying to figure out where she had gone.
"'Make up your mind!' For a second, there was silence, then I heard Dana scream. 'Paula! Help me!'
"I ran in the direction of the scream. We had somehow stumbled into a section of the shaft which opened to another opening in the mountain. I could see again, so I turned off my flashlight; I didn't see a need keeping it on when there was light. I saw there was a bridge which had collapsed long ago, but I couldn't see Dana.
"'Paula, help! I can't hold on!' came the cry again. I looked down, and there was Dana, holding on to the remainder of the bridge. 'Pull me up!'"
"I reached towards Dana, intending to pull her up, but..." Paula became deathly quiet, remembering what had happened then. "But I had another psychic vision. I saw us both falling. Both of us. So I pulled my hand back. "'Paula! What was that for?' Dana asked.
"'I'm sorry, I can't help you right now!' I ran off, towards the entrance we had come in.
"As I ran, I heard her screaming at me: 'Come back here!'
"I felt like a coward. I felt guilty. I couldn't risk both our lives. It was too dangerous. And there was only one way I could save Dana: I ran home.
"I pounded on the door to my house. My father answered. He looked at me, and smelled me, I guess.
"'Paula, why do you smell of coal?' he asked. 'You know we forbid you to go into the coal mine.'
"'I'm sorry!' I screamed. 'We went into the coal mine! And Dana's going to fall soon!'
"'What?' my father asked. He hauled me over to the Parsons', where Dana's father joined us with some rope. They followed me as I returned through the mine shaft.
"Mr. Parsons was very critical. I overheard him say that he planned to severely discipline Dana once they got home and recommend that my father do the same. That chilled me to the bone.
"Then, finally, we found Dana again.
"'Here, baby, grab your father's hand,' Mr. Parsons said.
"Flash! 'Wait, Mr. Parsons! If she grabs your hand, she'll--'
"'Daddyyyyyyyy!' shrieked Dana."

"The aftermath of that situation was terrible. I had to use the rope to go down and tie Dana to the rope so our fathers could lift her up. Then the rope was sent back down and I was pulled up again. I looked at Dana, hoping she would accept my plead for forgiveness.
"'I'm sorry, Dana,' I whispered.
"She had apparently suffered from a lot of broken bones, legs, arms, ribs. She had a flower, I think a forget-me-not in her left hand.
"'I trusted you!' she grunted. 'I was going to give you this flower so we'd be friends forever. Now I'll give you the flower so you'll always remember that you caused this, freak.'
"Dana calling me a freak was terrible. I grabbed the flower from Dana's hand and stormed off. Back at home, my father sat me down in my room.
"'It was a very stupid thing you did, heading into the shaft," my father said.
"'I know. And I let Dana down.'
"'It's okay, Paula.' He patted my back. 'Though I have to ask you this question: how did you know Dana was gong to fall?'
"I really didn't know how I would answer that. All I could come up with was what I said to him: 'I just felt it was going to happen. I know you won't believe me, though.'" In her mind's eye, Paula constructed the image of her father's reaction to that comment.

"I never saw Dana after that. I still have the forget-me-not, though. It's fragile now. Like our trust was. Trust, it's such a fragile flower." Paula gently handled the flower. "And now, I have to be going. I have an errand to do."
Looking for an acknowledgement, she placed the candle on a table. The forget-me-not in her hand, she headed to the post office. She bought a postcard, an envelope and a number of stamps.
"What are you doing?" a voice asked. Paula turned around; it was one of the girls from that meetingplace she had told her story at.
"I'm sending the forget-me-not to that friend I told the group about," Paula murmured. "I hope she'll forgive me." Paula placed the postcard and forget-me-not in the envelope and labelled the envelope with the address she had gotten with help from a friend, Jeff Andonuts. She stuck the stamps on the envelope and sealed the envelope.
She dropped the envelope in the mailbox and walked off.

"I'm sure Dana will forgive you, Paula," the girl said, as she limped towards a waiting car.

— The Candle: Stories of Confession
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