“I still think you bought this painting yourself, brought it home, and then forgot about it,” Erin said again, hugging her bear tightly. “You humans see something odd, think, Oh, cool collectible, bring it home, and it just gathers dust…”

Her comment struck a nerve. Nathan actually couldn’t say for certain where everything in this house had come from—he’d only been in this place for two months. Not only was he unfamiliar with this world, but he barely knew himself here. For all he knew, this house and the person he “replaced” could have been someone entirely different.

Was there another “Nathan” before him?

Those thoughts crossed his mind briefly, but he pushed them aside. Meeting Erin’s unnervingly red gaze, he shook his head. “No way. That painting looks expensive. I couldn’t afford something like that.”

“Could’ve been cheap!” Erin nudged forward, still clutching her bear. “You never know—fakes are everywhere these days. Maybe I was picked up from a second-hand shop by someone who didn’t realize what they were getting—a two-for-one knockoff deal with fake antiques.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “This frame is solid wood. There are actual gold lines on the edges.”

Erin tilted her head, thinking. “Redwood veneer with resin core? Copper wire under fake gold leaf?”

Nathan deadpanned, “If that’s the case, it’s not two dollars a pound anymore.”

“Four-fifty a pound max. It’s a bargain at that price.”

Nathan just stared at her.

“What? Why aren’t you saying anything?” Erin asked, her red eyes widening.

Nathan couldn’t help himself; he burst out laughing. He dropped onto the floor, nearly doubling over as he laughed up at the ceiling, half-sprawled back. It hit him all at once—the absurdity of this entire situation. He was sitting in an empty room, arguing with a girl trapped in a painting over whether her frame was worth two dollars a pound or four-fifty.

Not long ago, he’d nearly died from a frog tearing into his chest.

The whole thing was too ridiculous.

Meanwhile, Erin stared at him, visibly disturbed by his sudden laughter. From her vantage point on the floor where he’d set her painting, she could see the blank ceiling and hear his laughter echoing around the room. She finally burst out, “Why are you laughing? What’s so funny?”

Nathan gradually calmed down, scooting forward and giving her a serious look. “That weird dream I had… was that your doing?”

He was referring to his dream where he’d hacked at the locked door with an ax, only to hear mocking laughter from behind it. Now, with Erin here, he was almost certain she was connected to that unsettling dream.

Oh, and his back was still sore from that dream’s unfortunate twist—literally.

“No, it wasn’t!” Erin shook her head but then paused, looking uncertain. “Well… not entirely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nathan frowned. “Make up your mind.”

“You had the dream yourself, but… I did slip in,” Erin explained with a hint of hesitation. “I sensed someone was dreaming and thought maybe I could find someone to help me, so I tried contacting you that way. I wasn’t trying to mess with you! How was I supposed to know you’d get so mad and start hacking at the door?”

As she rambled on, Nathan began to piece it together. “So… the door wasn’t locked by you, and the dream wasn’t your doing? You just… have a way of slipping into people’s dreams?”

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“Exactly! And that’s not even my only skill!” Erin looked proud but quickly deflated. “But since I got stuck in this painting, that’s about all I’ve got left…”

Nathan was half-convinced but still had plenty of questions. The dream hadn’t been ordinary, that much he knew. Another question immediately came to mind. “You said you wanted help… help with what?”

“Getting me out of here, obviously!” Erin replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “If you could get me out of this painting, that’d be great. Or at least out of this room—I mean, there’s nothing in here, not even a TV on the opposite wall. And if it had voice control, that’d be even better. Remotes are hard to use in my… current situation, you know?”

Nathan realized Erin was a freewheeling chatterbox. Left unchecked, her train of thought could derail in any direction—and often did. With no hesitation, he cut her off. “If you wanted my help, why were you laughing at me? When I was outside ‘unlocking’ the door, who was laughing then?”

“That wasn’t me!” Erin quickly held up her bear, waving it around as if presenting evidence. “It was him!”

Nathan gave her a skeptical look that clearly said, “Do I look that gullible?”

“Seriously!” Erin looked almost desperate, clutching her bear. “He got stuck in here with me, but I think he’s been here longer than me, and he’s… a little unhinged. He mostly just laughs at random, which freaks me out too. Sometimes if I poke him, he’ll laugh. Other times he just starts cackling on his own. It even scares me sometimes…”

Nathan held back a smirk, watching her attempt to convince him. After a moment of silent consideration, his gaze shifted to the bear, and he nodded. “Fine. Make him laugh. Let’s see if he really does.”

Erin immediately poked the bear on the head.

Nothing happened.

She frowned and poked it harder. Still nothing. At this point, she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Uh… sometimes he just doesn’t respond,” she mumbled, clearly flustered. “It’s… it’s a little unpredictable, okay?”

Nathan’s eyebrow twitched.

“So, sometimes you poke him and he laughs, sometimes he doesn’t, sometimes he laughs on his own, sometimes he doesn’t laugh at all… Basically, he might laugh or he might not, and you think that’s due to you poking him?”

Erin blinked, looking puzzled for a second before nodding. “Well… I guess you’re right.”

Nathan was starting to think this “haunted painting” was more trouble than it was worth.

And at this point, he didn’t much care about the mysterious laughter he’d heard in the dream, either.

A loud rumble came from his stomach, reminding him that he’d missed dinner by passing out earlier. Nathan shook his head with a grin and started to stand.

“Wait! You’re leaving?” Erin sounded alarmed, the panic in her voice palpable. “You’re not going to just leave me here on the floor, right? At least hang me back up! The wall has wallpaper; I can’t see a thing from the floor!”

Nathan reached down, lifting her frame off the floor—grunting as he twisted his sore back in the process.

“I’m taking you to the living room. So quit complaining.” He muttered.

Erin’s face immediately brightened, and she settled back in her chair, hugging her bear again as she watched him carry her frame. “Thanks, you’re not so bad. Is it dinnertime? What are we having tonight?”

Nathan glanced down at her. “You… you can’t eat, can you?”

“I can watch!”

Nathan sighed. He wasn’t sure why he was still bothering with this.

Awkwardly carrying the heavy frame, he shuffled toward the stairs with Erin’s ongoing commentary as his background noise—

“Wow, your place is pretty big! I didn’t know there was all this outside the room!”

“What’s that room over there? Your bedroom? Are there others in the house?”

“Should I introduce myself? Do you think they’d be scared? People aren’t used to talking paintings, are they?”

“Oh, and I didn’t ask your name! What is it? Nathan? Isn’t that a weird name? Not the kind you eat, right?”

“What’s with your back? You’re young; you shouldn’t have back issues yet! Humans and their flimsy joints… oh wait, are you glaring at me? Your face looks scary.”

Finally, Nathan reached the top of the stairs, breathing a bit harder than usual. The flight of steps looked much steeper than he remembered. Between his aching back and the weight of the painting, those stairs now looked like a formidable challenge.

He’d intended to carry Erin down in his arms, but now he realized that might not be feasible.

He paused, eyes shifting as he thought it over.

Erin fell silent, a hint of worry creeping onto her face as she sensed his hesitation.

Nathan lowered his gaze to the girl in the painting, who’d been babbling incessantly. “Erin.”

She stiffened. “Uh… yes?”

“This frame of yours looks pretty sturdy.”

“…I think so?”

Without another word, Nathan set Erin’s painting at the top of the stairs.

"Hang on tight, might be a bit of a bumpy ride," Nathan said, giving Erin a last bit of warning.

Erin’s eyes went wide in a flash of realization. "Wait—hold on a seco—!"

"Off you go!"

With that, Nathan released the frame, sending it tumbling down the stairs in a cacophony of loud bangs and thuds, clattering wildly with each step. Amidst the clanging descent, Erin's outraged voice could be heard, peppered with a less-than-gracious string of gratitude:

"Nathan, you—! Ugh! I swear I'll—ahhh! Whoa—ahhh! @#$%!