Emilee traced her fingers over the worn spines of library books, their pages promising explanations. Maybe she could figure out the visions of the skull faced boy at school invisibly striding among them. Maybe communicate with the ghostly teens still wandering the hallways. Maybe they wanted to talk to her but didn't know how. Maybe she had to call to them differently. Or maybe, they wanted to be left alone to observe.

Emilee slid an America's Most Haunted Houses volume 4 from the shelf and began to leaf through. Murder House was a kiddie pool compared to Westfield. The ghosts—specifically Tate and Violet—seemed okay with living occupants and all too eager to interact. The ones that wanted to be left alone kept to the shadows. Silent observers that she could feel watching her every now and then. The curious Nora Montgomery glided through the house from time to time, giving Emilee passing glances before disappearing to do whatever it was she liked.

The first time Emilee saw her, she tried to retrieve answers.

"You would know everything that happened here," Emilee cried. "I can't believe I didn't think of calling to you!"

Nora scoffed and crossed her legs.

"I want you to leave me alone, girl. Unless you're capable of getting these people out of my house and leaving me in peace, I have nothing to say to you."

And she was gone. Emilee stood mystified, staring into the empty basement room. Her pulsing energy lingered with the faint scent of lilacs. Emilee tried to focus on using it to bring her back to no avail. Nora proved herself to be stubborn and powerful, but this only drove Emilee's determination.

Returning to the present moment, she continued leafing through the book, listening to the faint sound of keyboards in the computer lab.

There has to be a biography or something about her somewhere.

Emilee took a deep breath and her mind wandered back to Cameron. Her heart jolted and she felt a pang of guilt from their fight.

"She's hiding something," she had told Cameron earlier that afternoon. "Mrs. Montgomery would know everything there is to know about this house. I can feel it. She had a direct role in what happened."

Cameron raised his eyebrows, his brown eyes skeptical.

"I heard you talking about it in your sleep again."

"For the last fucking time, I wasn't dreaming!" Emilee exasperated. "I know something horrible happened and now something else is pending over this house. The energy, what happened to Melinda, what I saw last night, none of it is normal!"

"Of course it's not. Ghosts are not normal, nor are they real, Emilee."

Emilee started to protest but Cameron held up his hand.

"And because none of it is normal or real is why Melinda is being treated at the hospital. And honestly? I think you should be too."

"I'm not crazy!"

Cameron sighed and slid his hands into his pockets. Emilee collapsed on her bed, dumbfounded. Of course, neither Tate, Hayden, or even Violet decided to just appear to prove her point.

All of you are on my Shit List, she wanted to scream.

When she started to look back at Cameron, she met the familiar black eyes in her doorway.

DO SOMETHING, YOU SHIT.

Tate slowly shook his head. Emilee's fists curled on her comforter.

"Just trust me," he whispered.

Emilee's brows furrowed. Cameron glanced over his shoulder to see nothing. Emilee gave Tate a brief but bewildered nod. When Cameron faced her again, Tate vanished and Emilee stood.

"I'm not going to argue with you anymore. You're never going to believe me, so, I'm done explaining myself to you."

She started out the door but Cameron grabbed her arm.

"I don't want to fight with you. I'm only here for another day and—"

Emilee yanked her arm away.

"Honestly Cameron? I am sick. I'm sick of having this conversation with you. I'm sick of feeling crazy when I talk to you, I'm sick of you reminding me that my mother's schizophrenia drove her to suicide, I'm sick of you acting like your one AP Psychology course has made you a psychiatrist. I'm sick of you undermining everything that is important to me when I am supportive of you, no matter how boring I think the topic is, and, I am especially sick of trying to fit into your little normal box. I am different. I can see and talk to the dead and it was a mistake to let such a dismissive douche bag like you in on such a personal part of myself."

Emilee inhaled deeply, Cameron's eyes shining, his mouth hanging open.

"You have until I get back to pack your shit and get the fuck out of my house."

She slammed the bedroom door behind her, victory washing through her. Tate stood at the end of the staircase, smirking.

"I knew you had it in you. I'm proud."

Emilee rolled her eyes but smiled.

"Whatever. I'm going to grab a book or two from the library. You're in charge until I get back."

Tate's eyes flashed.

"You sure you want to put me in charge?"

"Just make sure he actually packs and don't burn the house down. Can you manage that much?" Emilee huffed.

"Sure thing, boss."

Emilee rolled her eyes again and ventured into the sunlight. Tate wandered to the window, watching the gold light shimmer across her vibrant hair. He smiled to himself as Emilee strode around the corner and disappeared.

"So. We doing this or not?" Hayden whispered into his ear.

He smirked.

"Let the games begin."

Back at the library, Emilee tried to push the argument and Tate from her mind to refocus on the book in her hand. The frayed pages displayed old manors and plantations she had read about several times, occasionally mentioning a castle hidden in the Ohio woods that was unfamiliar. She stared at it, wondering how she could have missed it. The photo brimmed with the rare sunlight reflecting off lush trees surrounding the little castle and Emilee felt a pang of longing towards her old home.

"We needed to move on," she reminded herself. "Ohio had too many bad memories."

Naturally, moving to Murder House would solve everything. Emilee tried to not linger on the irony too much and focused on the haunting. Westfeild High held different energy than her new home. Emilee felt lingering depression sinking in the walls. A concoction of raging hormones from the living and the dead seething with jealousy and confusion from why they were never given a chance to live so fully.

Tate killed them. I know that much…but why?

Emilee shuddered.

And how can I trust a school shooter—a murderer—so easily?

Emilee snapped the book shut.

He could be manipulating me, she pondered. But for what? He's just an average ghost. He's human, will stay human…there's literally nothing he could gain from me. Tate's not powerful enough to become some sort of demonic threat.

She shuffled about the shelves, pulling different titles down.

The most he can get out of me is a companion. But…maybe I'm underestimating him?

Emilee rubbed her temple with her free hand. Mulling over every interaction she had with the ghost only concreated the fact he was simply a bored, lonely boy looking for some relief in his suffocating afterlife. Eternally stuck in that house. Suffering.

But why?

Emilee carried her stack to the front desk, exchanging smiles and small talk with the librarian. Once finished, she piled the books into her bag and headed out into the afternoon light.

Ghosts all have a reason for lingering, but a case like Murder House is unusual. Hauntings may not be as rare as the normal person believes, but, a case like Murder House is almost mythical.

Emilee yawned and glanced about the bustling square. Pretty hipster girls sat outside the coffee shop, a small knot of high schoolers walked by, giggling and chatting about little happy things, mothers pushing strollers and talking on phones, the occasional man in a business suit bidding the girls good day.

Coffee sounds like a good idea.

She decided to wander into the little café and order two iced mochas while rummaging through her bag for her wallet.

"Sure thing, Davin."

"Oh my God!" her head shot up and Dante was grinning widely at her. "I didn't know you worked here!"

He marked her cups and shrugged.

"Gotta get that college money somehow."

Emilee reached to pass him her card, which he waved away.

"Don't worry about it today," he smiled. He quickly fixed the drinks and returned to her.

"Thank you."

"You alright?" Dante studied her distant expression. "You seem a little down."

Emilee sighed and sipped the mocha.

"Cameron and I got into a huge fight."

Dante cocked his eyebrows and glanced over her head to make sure there was no line.

"You wanna talk about it?" Dante leaned on the counter and folded his hands.

"I mean, he refuses to see my perspective and I just feel like I'm crazy. So...I don't really know what to do. I went off and now I feel really bad about it."

"I mean, I'm sure he'd understand once you settle down and talk. I hope it works out in your favor, though."

Emilee gave him a sweet smile.

"Thanks, Dante. I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

"Possibly. I might call in sick with the Swine Flu or something."

Dante flashed a charming grin and Emilee rolled her eyes.

"Later Davin!"

She waved and Dante disappeared into the back. The square still teemed with people enjoying the first hints of autumn as she walked back home.

Maybe I should go see Melinda later.

Two and a half weeks had passed since her incident. Emilee felt questions nagging at the back of her mind, hoping that maybe Tate and Hayden would answer them.

I may not need to know every detail of that house, but, there's a reason I am there. My family is getting involved and I have a right to know why.

Rowan flashed into her mind. Emilee quickened her pace, thankful that home was in sight.

She went to see Melinda with Dad today, she reminded herself. There's no need to freak out.

Even so, her heart pounded. What if that demonic thing in the yard attacked Rowan too? What would happen to her? Emilee tried to push the thought of Rowan being traumatized into silence. Not wanting to think of the empty stare she would have.

The same one Mom had when she—

Emilee shook the nightmare from her mind and hurried down the sidewalk, passing Constance's house.

"Keep…away…" the wind seemed to whisper.

Emilee stopped at her front gate, staring up at the house as if seeing it for what it was for the first time. Keep away from what? Or who? She already knew Michael was trouble but why? What was it about him that drove such numbing cold in her? Emilee almost ran through the gate, not bothering to look at Constance's house. She felt eyes on her.

Of course that hell spawn would be watching me, she thought bitterly. I don't care if he's a child. If hurts my sister, I'll punt him into the ocean.

She dashed onto the porch, her heart pounding. The door swung open and Cameron practically fell onto the porch. Emilee stepped back.

"I wasn't going to call the police. Relax."

Cameron stood at his full height, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder.

"Cameron…are you okay?"

He turned back to her, his eyes flashing rage and betrayal.

"Is this your idea of a joke?!" he panted. "I just came to spend time with you and that happens is ghost-this, spirits-that—"

Emilee stared at him.

"Well yeah. I'm a fucking medium." She took a sip of her drink. "I got you a coffee. I'm still mad but, maybe we can talk and—"

"No, Emilee. We can't fucking talk."

"Look, I know I was harsh, but—"

"Harsh? Harsh?!" he was almost screaming. "You setting up this elaborate prank with your freaky ass friends is just being harsh?!"

Cameron slung his bag over his shoulder and scoffed.

"I'm going the fuck home. Don't ever contact me again."

Emilee almost dropped the drinks.

"Never-?"

"Never fucking contact me again," he snapped.

Cameron pushed past her and hurried to his car. Throwing his bag in the back seat, he inhaled deeply then turned to face her. Emilee's eyes glistened with tears. The house loomed over her as if threatening to consume her. Cameron sighed.

"You're sick, Emilee. I can't help you. Trust me, I wanted to and I was hoping everyone was wrong about you. But you can't get better if you keep hiding in these delusions."

Emilee started down the steps but Cameron ducked into his car.

"Cameron!"

"I hope you get better."

Without looking at her, Cameron threw the car in reverse and sped out of the driveway then down the road. Emilee watched his car until it disappeared, her ears ringing.

"Cam...?"

She stumbled back into the house, gently shutting the door behind her. Resting her head on the door, the scene replayed in her mind no matter how much she tried to brush it off.

He's gone…he's never coming back…

Her eyes burned and tears dripped onto the lids of the coffees.

He won't ever talk to me again…I was such a bitch…

"Welcome back!" Tate's voice rang through the air. "He'll never doubt you again, Emilee. Hayden was great! The look on his face was pri—"

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Emilee whipped around, tears streaming down her face. Tate's smile disappeared.

"I was sick of him treating you like shit—"

"HE WAS THE BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME!"

"Oh come on. He was a run of the mill pretty boy with shitty taste in clothing. You can replace him with something more interesting. Like a lamp."

"Fuck you, Tate!"

Emilee practically threw the cups on the table and ran up to her room. Her bag slumped to the floor, spilling the library books over the floor.

"Emilee, come on!" he tried, stretching his arms out to her.

Her door slammed and Tate was left with nothing but her choking sobs. Venturing up slowly, he approached the door and knocked.

"Leave—me—alone."

"Emilee, I'm sorry. I—I didn't think he was gonna dump you."

"Fuck off, Tate!"

"Really! I just wanted to—"

He was cut off by a sudden something that felt like a punch to the face.

"What the fuck was that?"

He glowered at the still closed door. Emilee's crying was muffled. He was tempted to walk through the door to talk. There was another threatening thump from the other side, as if she was the one hitting it. Tate sighed.

"I told you it was a bad idea," came a soft voice.

Tate felt his energy sink when he met Violet's infuriated expression.

"I was just trying to help."

"Were you?!" she snapped. "Were you really trying to help her? Did you hear what the fuck he said to her? Hell! Did you even think that maybe—just fucking maybe—you could have jeopardized her relationship?"

Tate opened his mouth but Violet cut him off.

"You're such an idiot."

She brushed past him, allowing herself to step through Emilee's door. Tate stood dumbfounded, wishing some sort of void would just swallow him whole.

"…I just wanted to help…"

Thank you Courtney-Tamara for sending me encouragement! I hope this was an enjoyable chapter and I will be posting more soon. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please tell me what you think!

Have an awesome night.