Samuel Rand, Ghost Hunter Part Two: Back To The Beginning

Aftermath

When I eventually woke up, my head hurt, but I was otherwise unharmed. Physically. I had emotional and psychological scars that would take years to heal. I rose slowly, and exited the room, careful not to look at or step on any corpses. Eventually, I found a landline and dialed the police station, and then the Ghost hunting guild.

The police in no way blamed me, but I could tell they were suspicious. I had done something that no one had ever done before. I had stared into the eyes of a ghost for longer than a minute, and then slew it with a simple fire poker. The fire poker I still carried, no matter how hard someone tried to wrestle it from me, calling it evidence, and whatnot.

I was sent to my aunt and uncle's house to live, and things went back to normal. Kind of. The only problem with that was that my aunt and uncle hated me, like almost Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia levels of hate, but luckily, not quite. I didn't have to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs, but I got the attic bedroom, technically the second level. I had no encounters with ghosts for six years, and I was fine with that.