Ghost

Chapter 8

The noiseless flame of the candle that was providing our light was probably louder than we were. Really, it was like silence had become the majority of my life.

Elaine smirked at our confused expressions,

"Well now you're all ears." She exclaimed brightly. "I should really talk more about myself, people get incredibly interested."

"What do you mean 'only kind of'?" Celia asked. So far rather than being afraid of Elaine, Celia had mostly just been pissed at her.

"We're roommates of sorts." Elaine said proudly, as if she was telling us how she had shaken hands with a celebrity. "She's crying upstairs right now." She added. I got the feeling she was making no sense on purpose.

We waited for her to continue.

Elaine watched us wait.

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Celia asked more impatiently.

"Who knows?" Elaine said passively.

"So who are you then?" I ask, dropping any ideas of getting her to provide context.

"Hmm," Elaine looked up thoughtfully, the candle casting an even more unnerving shadow across her face. "You know what? I quite like the name Adalyn. It was the name of the girl in that story. I think you should all call me Adalyn." She spoke as if we already knew which story she was referring to.

The girl who we had previously assumed to be Elaine continued, "anyways, had I been Elaine, there might have been the smallest chance that would have work. That girl's opinions are way too easily influenced. I mean, look how easily she lets me live here. Besides that, shes also-"

"Ah!" She said covering her mouth, "I almost said too much. Its no fun when people spoil the ending."

"It's simply that you've all just put me in such an excellent mood with your cute little show. I couldn't be any happier even if I played with you some more."

Adalyn waved both of her hands at all of us and wished us goodbye. My feet were stuck firmly on the ground out of fear that she would change her mind. But she simply left. This time rather than humming, Adalyn was skipping.

"Lets get out of here." Celia said, pointing at the stairs. "She's dangerous, I don't want her finding us too easily."

I definitely agreed. I was a hundred and ten percent done with the second floor.

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Just as I was about to follow everyone into the living room, which had basically become our home base, I noticed that Mel had sat down on the floor in front of the stairs. After a short mental debate about my next course of action, the side of my brain that said to talk to her won.

I sat down in front of her, the flickering candle she'd been carrying between us.

"You know, normally people sit on couches. Not floors." I said, trying to cheer her up. It didn't work. Mel simply stared at the ground, which the candle wax had begun to drip onto.

"You should just leave me here. All of you would be better off without me."

"You know, somehow you're still just as dramatic as when we were six."

"I mean it Mack," she looked up at me with tear-glazed eyes. "All of this is my fault! If I hadn't suggested to come to this stupid house because of my stupid obsessions we wouldn't all be killed."

I stared at her, contemplating what to say. Mel had had moments like these from time to time when we were little, but other than that she was a positive, excitable person.

"For starters, we're not all dead." I finally say.

"But something's happened to us!" Mel cried out. "It's like..." She paused for a second. "It's like we've gotten used to it! I mean, two people died tonight! Two people who we knew and talked to and went to coffee with died right in front of us and we've been acting like it's nothing. None of us have cried or gotten sad. We've gotten all screwed up because of this."

She was sort of right. Rather than crying, I'd basically just felt shitty and depressed for however long we'd been trapped in here. There was really no way to tell what time it was now, but I assumed we'd been here all night. It would explain my exhaustion.

"None of that is your fault, it's Elaine's, or Adalyn's or whatever the fuck her name is. She's the one who killed them." I say, Mel's gaze relaxed a bit as if she was waiting to hear that. Then I added, "They didn't deserve that, especially not Holly."

The relaxed posture and gaze disintegrated like those last words were acid. Mel looks down again and roughly wipes her eyes before quickly standing up.

"Mel?"

"I'm fine." She says aggressively, striding into the living room without looking back. "Let's just figure out a way out of here."

In that moment I felt incredibly confused by Mel's sudden mood swing. It was like the Bermuda Triangle. Except the reason that time around was so simple it hurt, it was aggravating that right then I couldn't figure it out.