haunted

Chapter 4: everything stays

The interior of the house is the same as it was the night of the party. Empty cups, confetti, and balloon scraps litter the dusty wooden floor. Save for leftover party decorations, nothing adorns the walls or floors. The house has been abandoned for years; it makes sense that nothing is left behind from prior inhabitants, but the absence of any signs of life unnerves Leah nonetheless.

She steps into the living room and as if on cue, something bangs against the front door, startling her. She fumbles the flashlight in her hand, nearly dropping it before pointing it warily at the door.

"Fatin?" Leah calls out hesitantly. "Is that-"

"Let!" Bang. "Me!" Bang. "In!"

Leah winces. It's not like she intended on sneaking in again, but Jeanette definitely knows they're here now. She quickly moves towards the door, moreso to silence the sound than to let Fatin inside.

Leah unlocks the door and pulls it open. She's greeted with the sight of Fatin fuming, hands bunched into fists at her sides. Despite the clear anger and frustration she radiates, with her lips curled into a pout, it's the furthest she's ever been from intimidating.

"Finally!" Fatin shoves past her and moves inside. "Fucking door wouldn't open."

"What happened?" Leah raises a brow, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice, "The Jadmani touch not enough?"

Fatin stamps her foot and huffs, "It wouldn't budge!"

Leah glances at the open door, and notes the fresh scuff marks by the door handle. She shrugs. "Maybe Jeanette didn't want to deal with you."

"You're the one who's been stalking her from the get-go." Fatin takes hold of the camcorder hanging around her neck. "I'm just here for the views." She flips it open, and points the camera lens towards herself. "And before you get your granny panties in a twist, I'm not posting shit until Jeanette's exorcized."

Leah frowns. "You're not posting anything until we discuss it and I review it."

Fatin pretends to not hear her. She presses the record button, and smiles brightly at the camera. "Welcome to Ghost Hunters. I'm your host, Fatin Jadmani." Fatin pans the camera across the living room. "Today, we're investigating an abandoned house located at 220 San Carlos Avenue, long-rumored to be haunted according to local residents." The camera angles on Leah, scowling at the camera. "Here we have my questionably dressed partner-in-crime, Leah..." Fatin trails off, unsure.

Leah crosses her arms. "You don't know my last name?"

"Psh." Fatin waves a free hand. "Of course I know it."

"Then what is it?"

"It's... Milk."

"It's Rilke."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Huh." Fatin scrunches her eyebrows. "Weird."

Leah rolls her eyes. "Are you still rolling?"

"Obvi."

Leah looks into the camera, her gaze a thousand yard stare. "What Fatin won't tell you, unless you have the time to listen to her incessant monologuing, is that we've uncovered the cause behind the rumored haunting."

Fatin pans the camera back to herself, and raises a hand out of the frame to flip off Leah. "Jeanette Dao. Age 16. Cause of death, unknown. She died seven years ago and has stuck around since then, haunting this house and on occasion, our high school—East Bay Academy of the Arts."