𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 • anthony lockwood

i) three months before the end.

three months before the end.

Of the few hauntings Sophie has experienced in her four months with Lockwood and co, this has got to be one of the worst. Although, apart from the awful case, this particular day is definitely not the worst by any means, if anything Sophie will remember it to be one of her favourites, despite her the mild concussion. But that's not the focus of this story.

Of course, every story has its ups and downs, beginnings and endings, and this story begins in a haunted house with three impatient teenagers.

"Check again Sophie," George demanded.

The curly haired girl let out a frustrated huff, snapping her eyes open. "I can check as many times you'd like, George," she replied, her hand falling from the wall she just trailed five times. "It doesn't change the fact that I can't feel anything."

"Maybe you're not trying hard enough."

Truning abrutly, Sophie narrowed her brown eyes on the younger boy. "Then you do it!"

"Would the two of you pack it in?" Lockwood's tired voice cut in as he scrubbed a hand down his face. "You've been arguing all evening."

"She turned my favourite shirt pink, Lockwood!"

Sophie spun on her heel, walking down the dimly lit corridor. "For god's sake, George, I apologised about that," she huffed out, hearing their footsteps close behind her. "If you're that peeved about it, then by all means do your own washing."

"I-" Sophie quickly shushed the boy, waving her hand. Though she didn't see George's expression she could already picture it, but right now she wasn't too worried about irritating George more.

"What is it, Sophie?" Lockwood asked softly, stepping beside her.

She shook her head gently, closing her eyes. "I'm not sure," taking another step forward, she felt it- his anger, his resentment, the need for revenge. It was almost overwhelming as the visitor's emotions hit her at once. She tricked him, betrayed him. She saw him as a fool.

The thermometer in George's hand started to frantically beep. The air was thick with a chill, distant creaks filling the tense silence. And suddenly Sophie let out a small gasp when the door to the left of her slammed so hard, that she wouldn't be surprised if it broke the hinges.

The tall girl glanced at the two boys beside her. "I'm assuming Mr Dune and his partner weren't on the best terms?" She asked carefully inspecting the wooden door in front of her.

George's brows furrowed, while Lockwood quirked a brow. "That obvious?"

Sophie nodded. "He's feeling particularly murderous."

Lockwood unsheated his rapier, flashing her a bright smile. "Well then. Shall we?" He took the lead, glancing back at the two agents before shoving upon the old door. The trio stumbled upon a desolate room, one Sophie assumed was once a bedroom. Its walls were adorned with faded floral wallpaper which was peeling away.

The three of them dropped their heavy bags to the floor with a clang. Sophie's eyes darted around the room looking for unusual activity. The psychic energy in the room was much stronger than before. The man was angry of course, but Sophie could understand his hurt, his grief. It tore him apart.

"There's a death glow on the bed," Lockwood informed the two.

Sophie's eyes narrowed on the faint glow as she approached the bed cautiously. Her fingertips slowly traced the frame of the bed before moving to the wooden locker beside it. She winced, laying her palm flat across the top. "The source... I can feel it," she mumbled. He was so angry, so hurt.