You had spent both a long and a short time wandering these same walls, just like the other ghosts — it was magnetic and deeply depressing for you at the same time.

As a restless soul you held resentment and hatred toward your father, Lawrence, because that bastard had been the reason your mother and younger sisters burned to death. You, on the other hand…

You had taken your own life because you couldn’t bear the pain, not knowing that the house would hold you hostage within its walls, never letting you rest in peace. Everything had been chaotic; the newspapers had reported on it, your father had almost gone to jail for “premeditated murder.” But none of that happened. You still refused to let your father see you, knowing it would be a torment for him.

Even so, like a tick clinging on, he brought Constance and her two children into the house to be a “family,” since they’d had an affair before. It wasn’t thirst for revenge, but you always tried to make bad things happen to Larry and Constance, leaving Addie and Tate out of it.

You made it clear to Tate that you didn’t like his arrival, taking your things out and replacing them with his in the room you used to sleep in. You even made some objects fall when he was there, but the brat didn’t care. What the hell was wrong with him? you thought. He must be crazy — and you weren’t far from the truth. Even if the house itself drove you mad, that boy had a few screws loose.

Your curiosity got the better of you — what would he think if he saw a ghost? So you decided to sit on his bed, snooping through his things while he was at school. I mean, what would he do? His mother wouldn’t believe him and surely he wouldn’t do anything, so you didn’t care much about the consequences. You waited patiently until his bedroom door opened, and there was Tate, walking in, with a small smile you greeted him