She lifted her head, looked at him carefully, considering, gaze still foggy slow. She didn't want to lie to him, but she knew the chances were pretty strong he'd walk out on her after she told him this. She could either tell it in a way that made him think she was mad, or she could tell it in a way that he couldn't help but believe her.
She pointed to the opposite end of the couch. "He's fourteen or so. He's got dark hair, like yours, and blue eyes, like yours. He's full of holes," she touched Shane's torso there and there and there, showing the messy spots that were splattered and dark on the shadow of the boy in the room with them. "Bullets, but messy. He's 'round a lot; feels like he was happy, and it was all unexpected. They don't talk to me though."
She climbed off his lap, scooted away, and she hugged her knees to her chest. Because who could be comfortable knowing the person they were with could see their dead like that when they couldn't? That's what had made Daniel different; Daniel could see it too.