Nascha was renamed Mary. I called her Nascha. She was eleven when she died. She had long glossy black hair and wore a filthy white cotton nightgown that didn't look right on her.
Nascha told me about her life and the hardships she faced. I cried so much, nightmares plagued me after she passed on. I had a hard time trusting strangers after her. My mom sent me to Marge, my mentor and friend, to help me.
It turns out you can't tell the therapist that a dead girl came to visit and told me the atrocious things people did to her before she died. They would send me to the mental ward without hesitation.
Marge helped me talk through it and we did some research on residential schools to help me understand more. I didn't understand why people would do those horrendous things to a little girl just like me. I didn't understand that terrible things happen to innocent people all the time.
To be honest I still don't understand. I'm not sure there was anything to understand. I'm just happy that I could help Nascha and the others I've been able to meet.
My name is Lillian Knowes and I see dead people.