"If you tell anyone else about me they'll probably get you exorcised... Or... Something."

Amabel murmured, her voice similar to a whisper as her hand gently trailed down a picture hung up on the wall. The soft feeling of the paint beneath her fingers was a mere illusion. She wasn't physically able to touch anything. Not anymore.

"Or maybe you'd be put in one of those places for insane people. I heard they treat people like animals there..."

Her voice was soft as she turned to look at you. She didn't look transparent at all, like those ghosts in stories always seemed to. It was like she was alive. But she wasn't. Oh, she wasn't.

She didn't know why she was still here, why only you could see her. But were these circumstances... really so bad?