The next head is me.

I’m dropping Jessica. Sorry to anyone that enjoyed threading with her. 

“I just got back from the cemetery.”

“I swear I just saw someone… or something looking in my window.”

“I know I closed the damn closet door, but it keeps opening! Please tell me this is just some kind of joke you keep pulling.”

“What’s behind you in these pictures…?”

“Apparently like 20 years ago, some girl slaughtered her family in the basement.”

“I think there’s something about this house that you’re not telling me.”

“I keep hearing noises coming from the attic…”

“I know what I saw, and whatever is in the basement… it’s not human!”

“I didn’t have time to see what it was! I just got the hell out of there!”

“Whose grave were you bringing flowers to…?”

“The electricity guy said there was absolutely nothing wrong – and yet, the lights always flicker on at 2am. Explain that to me?”

“Why don’t you spend the night in that house ‘alone’, then try to convince me that you don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Y-you don’t understand, he didn’t have a face!”

“I had a dream that I killed you.”

“Ah, yes… the room you’re staying in. It’s a paranormal hot spot, apparently.”

“I keep hearing whispers at night… I-I can’t sleep!”

“There was something else in there with me, I’m not going back to that house.”

“Come on, it’s just an urban legend…”

“Are you trying to tell me I’ve been sleeping in a dead girl’s room!?”

“I keep getting the feeling that someone is following me.”

“Don’t panic… but I think there’s someone else in the house.”

“I can still feel her/his ghost, and it’s killing me…”

“There’s something growling in the basement… could you, uh… check it out for me?”

“Can you just… can you please check the closet?”

“P-please… put the knife down.”

“I bought this haunted ring on eBay!”

“No, no, no – run!”

“I didn’t forward one of those freaky chain letters and now I keep hearing the laughter of children coming from my hallways at night.”

“The dead are all around us…”

“She’s dead! She’s dead and yet I keep seeing her, everywhere!”

“There’s something breathing under the bed…”

“You can’t tell me you don’t believe in ghosts after all we’ve been through.”

“I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see, something… that wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Maybe an exorcism is in order…?”

“I woke up, and it was j-just… staring at me.”

“He was there, then like a second later he literally vanished! I saw it happen!”

“I like the ghosts here… they keep me company.”

“You can’t honestly tell me you’re in love with a dead girl.”

“Wasn’t someone murdered in this house? Why are we here?”

“If dying means being with him/her, kill me. I’d be happier that way.”

“Ghosts aren’t real. You need help.”

“…what do you mean we didn’t talk last night? You came over, you were here.”

“You saw something you weren’t supposed to see. And now… now you know what has to be done.”

“I’m pretty sure my toaster’s haunted.”

“What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare open that door!”

“I visited his/her grave for the first time today…”

“Something terrible happened here, didn’t it?”

“Wh-why do you have a knife…?”

“You’re all bloody, what happened!?”

“You know that book from The Evil Dead? Yeah, well… I’m pretty sure we found something pretty damn similar to it.”

“You’re bleeding…”

“How can you not see it…? I’m dead! I’ve been dead for years!”

“I’ve always wanted to see you choking on your own blood.”

“I’m sorry, I’m busy Friday with the… funeral and all.”

“I’ll never forget the sound of his screaming.”

“From the looks of it, the afterlife is a lot more fun than this.”

“Legend has it that you can still hear her crying for her lover in the dead of night.”

“I want to be dead, too.”

“Well don’t you look lovely, all covered in blood.”

“Whoa – wait! Please don’t go down there… let’s just get out of here, please?”

“You played with a Ouija board!?”

“Me and some friends played with a Ouija board the other night… and things have been a little strange since then.”

“There’s so much negative energy in this house… do you know if someone died here?”

“You’re always hanging out in cemeteries… and yeah, it’s kinda creepy.”

“They just don’t believe like they used to…”

“It’s okay. Shh. Please don’t worry.”

It must be bad, right? That person let Shannon take over the pleasantries, voice soft and calm and soothing, and while she did and while she walked she watched her. Jessica was rough and dirty and disheveled. She stank. She smelled like Kinzo’s study did, once, though not as fetid-rotting. It wasn’t a pleasant reminder. 

Even in her current state, it hurt to say that. Even now, it hurt to hear what Shannon said. Obscene. Crass. She'd been called that plenty recently, hadn't she? A great impression she'd made on the exact family members she swore to take care of!