(1,008 words)
"Y-your name is...Billie." You meant it as a question, but it came out as a frightened statement. Now seated back at the table, it felt like a police interrogation. Everyone sat with their hands on the table placed in front of them, unwilling to touch the planchette. Apparently willing to play nice, the planchette moved slowly over the "YES".
"I'm a bit afraid to ask this, but why did you say 'NO' when we asked how you died?" Your best friend asked. You kicked her underneath the table, hissing quietly "Shut the fuck up, say goodbye and let's go!", nodding twice toward the door. "Billie" clearly didn't like your sentence, causing the planchette to levitate, then slam back down onto the board with such force that it cracked.
"Okay, sorry." you whispered timidly, a tear making its way down your cheek. The planchette began to spell another word, so you grabbed your paper.
"D...E...M...O...N." Billie spelled out, causing your other friend to put her hands over her mouth to silence her frightened sobs.
"No..." you said, more tears falling freely now.
"Guys...guys, I think I'm having an anxiety attack. I need to go, I need to leave, I can't be here right now." You gasped, feeling your heart begin to speed up, desperate for air.
They looked at you as you stood up swiftly, knocking your chair over behind you. You ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and began choking and dry-heaving into the toilet. You then sat against the wall, knees tucked to your chest and head in your hands.
"This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is a nightmare. This isn't real." You repeated over and over to yourself, as the tears fell down your cheeks. You were able to calm yourself down enough to stand and look in the mirror. Your eyes were red from crying, and you looked exhausted. "Y/N?" They called to you from the other side of the door. You opened it slowly, saying:
"I'm...I'm gonna take a shower, you guys. I need to calm down, and showers calm me down." Your voice shook as you spoke to them. They all nodded, rubbing your shoulders. You quietly closed the door, and turned on the water.
As you undressed, you felt as thought you were being...watched. You shook it off, as a side effect from the night's earlier horrors, but the feeling lingered. Nevertheless, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water beat onto your shivering skin.
From what limited material you'd read on demons in your life, you remembered that exorcisms were simply long prayers. I hope this works, you thought as you opened your mouth, eyes closed.
"Our Father, who art in Heaven-"
You didn't get very far before a searing pain shot up the back of your left shoulder, and you yelped in pain. The usually-clear water at your feet began to run a light pink, then deepened to the dark rouge of blood.
Quickly, you shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. You put on a robe, sliding down the shoulder to look at your back in the mirror, but steam distorted your image. As you raised your hand to wipe off the surface, you stopped abruptly as letters appeared in the steam.
They read...
"PSYCH."
Confusedly, you looked closer to see if you'd read the letters correctly. Yep, the mirror definitely said PSYCH. At a loss for words, you were about to reach for the door handle, when the door burst open on its own.
"Surprise!" Your friends stood in front of you, holding a cake, which read "PSYCH" in red icing. Wide-eyed, you stared at them. "W-what the..."
"Happy 18th birthday, Y/N! We knew you would be, like, so freaked out." Your best friend said to you.
"What the fuck? You guys planned this? All of this? How-? What-? Who-?..."
"Her dad is an electrician, who helped with the lights, and her dad works in special effects for movies. The blood in the shower, the writing on the mirror, the lights, the moving planchette- all them. Gotta love L.A. film dads, right?" Your best friend pointed at your two friends, then winked at you.
"Also, because we know you love Billie Eilish so much, we got you V.I.P. tickets to her show next month!" She exclaimed, holding up two tickets and wrapping her arms around you.
As relieved as you had ever been, you sighed and said, "Your idea of a practical joke is way too impractical- and adding Billie into it? Really?" Your best friend just laughed: "Yeah, maybe next year we'll go even bigger, so watch out! Now, let's have some cake."
As you all sat around the table that previously housed the Ouija board, enjoying the cake and laughing about the whole evening, you remembered something. "Wait a second. So I know the lights, the board, the mirror writing, and the bloody shower were your dads...but I'm curious, how did you manage to actually scratch me?"
All the laughter stopped suddenly, and looked up at you. "What are you talking about, what scratches? We didn't do anything with scratching you." Your best friend said, looking at you with genuine confusion.
"Oh come on, you guys, joke's over. You know, how did you do this?" You asked, pulling down the shoulder of your robe to reveal the three painful, claw-like scratches on your back. Your friends all gasped and came over to you, examining them closer.
"Y/N...we didn't do these to you. We swear. We would've told you by now."
Your face paled as you questioned them further. "W-what? What do you mean? Seriously, how did you do it?"
"No, we swear we didn't. 100%." They all affirmed.
"So then...who did?"
Like clockwork, the Ouija board, now laying to the side, spelled out the ominous choice word of the evening:
"B I L L I E"
