Chapter Two
My process comes in a few steps.
1) Interview witnesses and people related to the victims.
2) When that doesn't work, research history of said place.
3) When needed to get closer, hack into things and have fake I.D.s on hold.
4) Find out what I'm up against and gank that sorry son of a bitch.
It's a fairly easy process, even though the details can be a bit tricky. But something was different about this case, there were to fake Feds here too. I was guessing they were some of those lame ass ghost hunting people who have no clue what the hell they're doing. So time for step 1.
I got to first period and they all stared at me as if I was an alien. The highlights probably sent their pampered little heads off the end. I sat down at one of the desks with a plop! I smiled at one of the girls who was probably the most popular ones. She rolled her eyes and looked away. How the hell was I supposed to interview these bitches?
"Hi," I heard someone say. I turned my head to the girl. She had shoulder length light brown hair and had big glasses on.
"Hi,' I smiled. I think I found my interviewee.
"My name is Taylor." I smiled.
"Samantha." She nodded and I looked to her booksack that had Nirvana pins all over it. She was wearing Harry Potter bracelets. I thought we would get along just fine.
"So where are you from?" she asked.
"Baton Rouge," I lied. She nodded and got out her notebook. "Soo umm I heard that there had been some suicides over here." She looked at me sadly, but then nodded.
"Yeah. Amelia and Rose, they were my friends."
"Sorry," I said.
"Wasn't your fault." I smiled a bit.
"So what did they do... You know before they died?" I asked another question. This made her raise an eyebrow my way. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say at the time.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just curious." She sighed and shook her head.
"Nothing. They were both excited actually." I nodded and picked up my backpack. "Where are you going?"
"Sorry I just need too. Nice meeting you." I smiled and left the room. I needed an empty room, and I new exactly where I could find one. I snuck upstairs and went to the old file room. To my luck, it was abandoned. I sat down and pulled out my laptop from my backpack. I typed in the schools name. Nothing. I clicked on the official website for the school and went through the inventory. I did a check at almost everything at the school, none of it had a violent past. What the hell? I thought. I then typed in the school's address and bingo The school was standing right where an old plantation used to be. It was called the Oak Plantation. There we go. Violence follows plantations like Day follows me. By why was the spirit striking now? or had it always been? I pulled up another tab and looked up teenage suicides in New Orleans. Throughout the years, thirty suicides were at this school. All in the same way. I closed that tab and looked up Oak Plantation. Right when I clicked on the link, I heard footsteps coming towards the room. I grabbed my laptop and hid in a closet. Then I saw my backpack through a peek hole. I cursed silently. Then they walked in. The Ghostbuster wannabes.
"What the hell is this?" the taller guy asked.
"Have no idea," said the man I met in the parking lot.
