Curiosity killed the cat, but the satisfaction brought it back.

Except, people can't really be brought back, can they?

It all started...on an undetermined point, really. It's hard to say if there's one concrete point in your life from which the sequence of events began to lead towards what it is now. Perhaps it's the fact that the woman who gave birth to you was a medium, and your entire family tree is steeped in stories that defy explanation by science. Or maybe your mistake was when you started to investigate the Lawrence Fraternity—that little community turned out to be more of a danger than it seemed to be. The memory of it now sleeps in the ashes.

You saw it. Her. Lila. A beautiful creature with the appearance of a human, yet not one. She came to you twice: at Matt's party and then on the last day Tanya was ever seen by anyone. The connection was obvious to you.

Another connection that you noticed was William.

You sniffed it out yourself when you decided to secretly pass by his apartment complex, catching Tanya and him going up together. Having some sense of respect towards their private space, or maybe not having the patience to wait, you left without checking if she'd leave, and in what state.

She never returned, however.

To possibly kill two birds with one stone, you went to William to interrogate him, primarily about Tanya's disappearance. The boy welcomed you in his usual manner—normal yet quieter nonetheless. Not much has changed since you last talked. After all, you used to live and study nearby, and even your mothers were getting along, until, well, William's was gone, and you moved in.

You began to chit-chat, casually, and with no pressure. However, when you naively switch the topic, expecting answers, what you get is even worse than simple confusion. William began to act suspiciously, which wasn't unpredictable, but it was nonetheless imposing. His facial muscles twitch, undecided on what expression to put—it's worse, more chaotic than you remember him doing. It wasn't as if he was struggling to express his feelings, but rather he was struggling to conceal them. Back pressed against the closet that's threatening to break from the amount of skeletons it's filled with.

"Excuse me." He stands up abruptly in the middle of the conversation, walking off, leaving you like a frozen fool.

Due to how the rooms were placed, you manage to notice that he grabs the butcher knife.

Why is it only now that you notice this faint scent of blood lingering in the air?

William comes back shortly. That's when you catch a glimpse of a black, stained bag in the corner of the kitchen.

As the rationality finally kicks in and you rush up to leave, the cold hand stops you, snaking around your wrist in an iron, uncaring grip.

"Sit." One simple command. A choice in the form of the metal pressed against your neck. You obey due to the lack of suicidal desire.

Lila finds it amusing how easy it is to control humans. It always was a funny little thing to her. Before, she did it with men of the cult dedicated to her, charming them to full obedience and obsession. Now, one single tool is enough.

As any classical plot suggests, you get tied up. What is not so typical is that she, Lila, brings a lighter and gasoline—the sight of it is enough to make your heart drop.

"Did you enjoy playing detective?" The smile on William's face is too sicklishly sincere—you know it's not him. He's now a vessel for this entity.

"It's admirable how hard you tried to get rid of me, really...What an awful obstacle you are. I wonder whether I should kill you now or watch you struggle for a while longer."

The wind passes, and you swear that, for a moment, you hear William's voice in it. He's not dead: he's meant to watch everything, unable to do anything but to plead Lila not to burn you alive in the back of the body's skull, or through the phone, like a damn ghost.

"You know, you're such a bad influence on my poor William." Their face twists into a sneer of disgust for a moment. "Right. You know it already, don't you? I'm Lila."