I sat curled up in the same basketball shorts and t-shirt I wore yesterday, my form small in the large downy bed. The blood stained my mind in that place between waking and sleeping. Kaylyn stared at me, her charred eyes accusing and her mouth open in a scream as if someone were still attacking her. There was almost no sound. No sound except for a shattering. That sound played in my mind, over and over, echoing into eternity.

Knock knock knock.

I awoke with a start, a cold sweat breaking out over my skin. It took a moment for me to gather my bearings. The unfamiliar room threw me off and brought a moment of panic. After a moment I calmed down, rolling out of the thick comforter and into the warm room, down to my suitcase. I had almost forgotten what had woken me up and was just about to grab my suitcase when "Conrad?" came from the door.

I ran over to open it, revealing Jack with dark circles under his eyes, probably matching my own. "Hey," I said, moving aside and letting him in.

"I couldn't sleep," Jack said as he moved into the room. He had changed and clearly showered, unlike me. "I tried for so long, but it just wouldn't come, even after calming down last night."

I had no such issue. I slept fitfully, but I did sleep. "I slept. The nightmares made it hell though." I pulled out my phone, staring at the dead screen. It had sat in my pocket all night rather than charging like it usually did. I riffled through my suitcase, unsure if there was any organization to how things were packed in there, but I did find the cord packed in with my socks, but not with my laptop as I would have done. Artists.

"I'd imagine. Do you need to shower or something? You've got to take care of yourself, that's how you prevent yourself from breaking," Jack said with a pointed look.

I sighed. "Yeah, I should. I'm just tired. Finding it hard to care about it, you know? Like there are more important things I should be doing, but I don't know where to start."

"Start with a shower, then we can get some food. We can figure out what's next while we eat." Jack motioned me away. I hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights last night, so I had no idea where anything was. The morning light illuminated the room just fine through the large windows which had a view of empty land and one road. Something would surely pop up close by with something this nice here.

After wandering around for a while I made it to the bathroom, a soaker tub sat on one end of the room while a standing shower stood at the other end, a sink between the two and a toilet behind another door. I didn't want to leave Jack alone out there, but a bath seemed so nice. I resolved to take a bath before bed, but just to shower right now.

I plugged my phone into an outlet and placed it on the quartz countertop, the screen going bright as it started back up again. I undressed, throwing my clothes on the counter beside my phone and stepping into the shower. I turned the knob and watched as the water rained from the ceiling until it got warm enough for steam to rise from the raining liquid.

"Some fancy people shit. . ." I muttered as I grabbed my soap from my bag and stepped in, closing the glass door behind me. The rhythmic beating of the rain wasn't calming as a natural rainstorm was, at least not then. Instead the rhythmic drone of falling water droplets provoked thought, calling up the morning prior.

That crashing sound. I don't know why I focused on it, but I knew it was important. Less about the sound itself and more about the fact that it was the only sound. A gut wound would hurt like hell, and it wouldn't kill you immediately. In fact, I didn't even think the burned eyes would be deadly, at least, not instantly. Her face twisted in an eternal scream and the writhing position of her limbs. . . Something happened that even I couldn't explain.

I washed, mulling over everything about that room I could remember. All that came to mind was the blood, sprayed everywhere. Almost like a bomb had gone off inside of her. The blood and those eyes.

"What the fuck could have done that?" I asked myself.

After a long moment there was a faint knocking on the bathroom door. "Conrad, are you okay in there? It's been almost an hour." So long and I hadn't made any progress.

"Yeah, I was just thinking. I'm getting out now," I said as my right hand reached for the knob to turn the water off.

"Alright. I'll be in the main area," Jack said. I heard his footfalls fade away as the last droplets of water fell to the linoleum floor with a light splash and a faint sucking noise as the water flew down into the drain. I toweled off with the pristine white towel that was left in the bathroom and got dressed. All the clothes in the bag were either basketball shorts or jeans plus some t-shirts. Most of them were from work and bared the company logo, but there were others that were plain and one that had a duck with a knife on it. I didn't know I had that shirt, but I threw it on and it fit comfortably with a new pair of basketball shorts.

The phone was at seventy two percent so I unplugged it and threw it in my pocket, the cord and box following close behind. My keys and wallet went in the left pocket, then I burrowed through my suitcase to see if I had some of the other things I usually kept on me. My headphones revealed themselves and they went into the left pocket as well. I kept searching, finding my multitool and watch. I had forgotten to pull the leather into place the morning prior, but the tan line it had left behind had proven that most who thought of me would see me with the watch on. I was thankful that Jack had grabbed those things, but I was surprised that he knew to grab all of these.

I left the suitcase in the bathroom, taking a pair of socks out to the main area where Jack waited for me. "Thanks for packing all my things. My pocket essentials and everything. If I'd had those yesterday I probably would have done better," I said as I made my way around the fancy looking couch that I knew was cheaply made.

"I figured you'd miss them, even if you didn't realize you didn't have them. It plays tricks on your mind when your too busy to notice that you're missing something," he said.

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"Shit, sounds like you're talking about Kaylyn. Did you realize something?"

"Conrad, leave it alone. You can't do anything."

"No one else can! I'm telling you that that murder was wrong, and not just because someone was brutally murdered," I pleaded as I made my way to the couch to take a seat next to Jack.

"Of course it was. It wasn't just a regular murder, this was a serial killer. This may have been their first crime, but that's the kind of killing that make people do it again and again until they get too bold to stay hidden. He will reveal himself eventually, just let the police handle it," Jack pleaded back.

"One of the cops said 'another one', so I don't think this is the first. I don't think I saw a shape in the blood splatters someone could have stood in. Even if they didn't mind getting blood all over them self, it would leave a spot somewhere that's more clean than the rest. Then the crashing sound, how it echoed? Then there's the fact that there wasn't any sound before that, but she clearly didn't die quickly. I can't explain any of it, but it has to be supernatural." I was almost begged for him to believe me. I could tell his method of coping had been to push it out of his mind and try to forget, but now that I was forcing him to think about it he was noticing the same things I had.

That raises the question, how was I coping? If Jack pushed the thoughts away, what did I do? I had no idea, but hopefully I would find closure in answers. Frankly, I didn't think I could find answers, not quickly anyways. I was still slightly shaky and sick to my stomach from the horrors that had been piled on me in such a short time.

"Conrad, ghosts aren't real," was all Jack could say in response. He couldn't think of another argument but for something he had been denying for so long to be true would shatter his world, let alone for that wake up call to be the death of a close friend.

"I can't prove it to you, or at least, I don't know how, but they exist and I think one found out how to touch the real world. I think they killed Kaylyn and destroyed her soul, or I would at least heard her being kidnapped. If I'm right, we need to find out how to stop him from killing anyone else, because no one else knows how or cares enough to stop him." I pushed him, trying to force him to see the truth.

"Are there ghosts here?"

"I don't see what that has to do with-"

"Answer the fucking question, Conrad," he growled, cutting me off.

"No, I think this place is too new. They wont explore this place for a few months." He was nodding and I was thrown off. It had gone from me forcing him to see my side to me being confused. I was impressed at how he took control of a conversation like that. He had to have been just as confused as I was but he thought so much clearer under pressure.

"You said there were ghosts at that diner? Will they be there now?" he asked.

"There were. I think some of them might be, but it's a dead people culture thing I hadn't heard of before so I don't know all of the rules." I was getting confused at the line of questions. I thought it might be one of those 'are you really that crazy' questions, but Jack wasn't the type to ask those.

"We're going, get your shoes on," Jack said, standing swiftly and walking to the door. He opened it, the darkness of the wood contrasting with his tanned skin. "I'll be in the car."

"The fuck did I do?" I asked myself after he closed the door. He was my only ride anywhere, so I threw on my socks which I had forgotten about in the heat of the conversation before pulling the blue tennis shoes in place. They were cheap, back in Oregon where I grew up kids would always make fun of me for wearing cheap shoes, but they were comfortable and they lasted forever.

I quickly made it out into the hall, making sure the door shut fully before running down the hall and to the elevator where I pushed the down button and frantically waited for the elevator doors to open. When they did I stepped in, pressing the button labeled with a stark black 1 against the white buttons. The music that played this time was different, still orchestral but slower, almost reminding me of winter days huddled by the fire. The song ended before the elevator reached the ground floor as it was just nearing the end when I had stepped in and a new song started, fast but light until two very aggressive notes broke the pattern only for it to return to the original tone.

The doors opened, depositing me in view of Jack's car which sat idling just outside of the glass doors. I pushed my way out and then pulled the passenger door open to let myself in. I closed the door with a bang as Jack started moving forward and out of the parking lot.

Not long after we pulled into the parking lot at Susan's. The place was more dead than we left it the night before, and the ghosts didn't seem to care what time of day it was as they were still filtering in and out of the establishment. They don't sleep and light isn't an issue, so most ghosts stop noticing the day night cycle altogether. This usually took a while, maybe a hundred years, but it happened to almost every ghost eventually.

"Are there any here? Can you tell from outside?" asked Jack once we'd parked.

"Oh they're definitely here. I can see them filtering in and out," I answered.

"Perfect, we're about to get some answers." With nothing but that cryptic statement we got out of the car and Jack just stood there. I joined him on the drivers side of the car.

'What do you want me to do?" I was so fucking confused.

"Use your power to find out what's on my phone right now," he said, holding it over his shoulder and not letting me see the screen.

"One sec," I said, looking around. There was one ghost, he looked young, grimy, and sick. Those that died of disease always looked sad, but they all assured me that the pain stopped and their looks don't really matter to the dead anyways. "Can you help me?" I asked. He seemed to be the only ghost here alone and I didn't want to try to pull anyone from a group.

The teen looked confused for a moment and looked around for a living person for a moment before recognition sparked in his eyes. "You're the guy that can see us! Sure I'll help. I've got nothing better to do being dead and everything."

"Perfect. Can you tell me what's on his phone? Just look at the screen and describe what it looks like?" It was a simple task, even for what seemed like a ghost that died before regular phones let alone smart phones.

"Yeah," he said, walking over to Jack. I followed, as Jack stared me down. I still couldn't see the screen, so hopefully this would work. I even looked for reflections, but Jack was too smart to let that happen. "It looks like it's mostly black. It kind of glows though, that's cool. There are these lines in the corner and on the top it says something." The boy squinted. "The living world looks so blurry."

"Mostly black with lines in the corner and in the top it says something? Notes? I don't know. Can you read it for me?" I asked nicely.

"Uh, it says. . . I swear I learned how to read when I died I just need a minute. F, eh, buh, yu, ah, re, yuh. Feebyuahreyuh. Then it looks like numbers. two and. . . one? There's this box too, it's red with what looks like words in it."

"I think that's enough, thank you. Your calendar is open to February twenty first," I said to Jack.

"What happened on the twenty first?" Jack asked.

"Sorry, can you read the little red box? Or at least tell me the letters?" I asked the ghost, looking over Jack's shoulder.

"Let's just do the letters, that's easier for me. I think that's a one, then a zero. Then a y, e, a, r, s, g, o, n, e, a, i, d, e, and an n. Is that good?"

"That's plenty, thank you." I said, mentally stitching the letters into words. Ten years gone Aiden. "Oh fuck. Jack, did your friend. . . Was that the twenty first? It says 'ten years gone Aiden'."

Jack's eyes went wide. "Holy fuck, ghosts are real."