The Visitation, by Lon Richardson

The mother was sitting upright in bed, seeing her daughter just inside the closed door. 
“What’s wrong, mother?” 
“I couldn’t sleep.” 
“Neither can I.” 
“Why not?” 
“I never knew how it happened.” 
The mother strained not to blink; it would splash tears onto her cheeks. 
“I remember walking on the path in the woods … then nothing.” 
“It was your best friend’s brother. He wanted you. You wouldn’t let him” 
“Oh. I see.” She paused. “Thank you. You can sleep now.” 
“You too, dear.” She finally blinked, and the tears fell. When she opened her eyes, her daughter was gone.