Afterlife Home Agency

One: Just the Two of Us

My sister and I we were always close and we had a right to be... We came from the same womb for Christ's sake. But I was always the more logical one I had to be it didn't mean that my sister was crazy or that she was making things up; believe me I used to think that but when I finally saw what Jane was seeing first hand all the time it made me wonder. We were about five or six and we were at home being babysat by my grandparents because our parents were at work I never liked my grandma's house it was creepy and old and full of old, ugly things the basic knick knacks and such. Jane was the odd one she had a very active imagination as our mom put it always talking and seeing things that we couldn't see until I saw it for myself. Anyways we were little kids and I remembered my grandma was watching her soap operas that afternoon as for Jane and I we were in the backyard playing on the swings when suddenly Jane came to a halt not your normal stop either she just walks up and heads toward the back porch. "Janie, what are you doing?" I asked walking up behind her. She doesn't answer just stares at the window through the back porch which is looking into the kitchen at the time. "Its that woman again. She keeps showing up when I don't want her to." Jane adds turning around, "What are you talking about, I don't see anyone?" I asked glancing around the porch, "Don't Look at her, Kit. She doesn't like us." Jane says backing away from the porch in a fright, "I don't see anybody you're trying to scare me again aren't you? Momma said ghosts aren't real, Janie." Jane giggles, "Momma is lying to you, Kit. Do you wanna see what I see?" She whispers she always did that when she tried to freak me out but this time was different... This was fear. "Hi, there." She looks up and mumbled and right in front of me were a pair of feet; old, wrinkled bare feet. As I glance up more I see a dress a yellow dress with a white apron stained with flecks of red and as I got to her face I could see why Jane was terrified because this woman had no eyes. Instead of where there should be eyes were two solid black empty sockets instinctively as a child you don't stand and talk to a fucking ghosts instead I run off screaming and hid behind a tree. As for Jane she sort of stood there for a few seconds almost as if she were interested in this thing as if it were studying her as she studied it. After a good ten seconds I found the courage to peek again and realized the ghost of the terrifying woman was gone, "Um... Kit?..." Jane asks as she stares right behind me, "Shes right behind me isn't she?" I whisper Jane nods ever so slightly that's when I felt a cold hand touch my shoulder I jumped a good foot and we both ran into the house full force.

From that day on I never doubted what Jane said she felt or saw I couldn't because she was being real... Her abilities were very real. We had done a lot of research on our house as we got older and discovered that there had been a brutal murder in the kitchen in the same spot where Jane had always seen the old woman her real name was Margaret Conner but we referred to her as the woman in the kitchen. It didn't stop with just the old woman either as we got older and unlike most children who lose that gift of sixth sight Jane didn't instead her ability grew more into a bit of a problem. But by this time we were both teenagers and in 8th grade other girls used to make fun of her because she was a bit odd, wore a decent amount of black and wasnt very social. As a result I was kicking two or three asses a day to compensate for Jane's what they labeled craziness.

"Kit?"
"Yeah, sis?" I ask back as we were outside for lunch. We usually hung out at the track my excuse was to watch the attractive blonde runner jog past me. Jane's usual excuse was school food sucks so we might as well walk around and talk smack about the other morons around us. "Do you think I'm crazy? Like do you think there's something wrong with me?" She asks glancing down at her green converse, "Nah. If you were crazy you definitely wouldnt be talking to me. If you want to see crazy look into the eyes of that bitch, Leanna Morgan now she's fucking crazy. But she's head cheerleader so no one calls her out as such." I point out for Jane as we watch the popular girls sit in the bleachers giggling and probably talking crap about us just as we were about them. "Sometimes I would rather be her though then me, you know?" I laugh, "You a preppy little cheerleader? You dressed in a short skirt and flirting with jocks?..." I burst into laughter unintentionally; that's when she hits my arm hard. "Don't laugh, I mean it. To be one of the normal people would be one of the best things in my life..." Jane says lowly the bell rings signaling the end of lunch. I then understood what Jane was talking about our whole life we were outcast and not just from our own family either. Our mom had died when we were 12 in a horrible at accident. She was coming home from graveyard shift at the gas station a mile away when a drunk driver in a semi hit her head on killing her instantly. As for our dad we never knew who he was and our mom made sure we wouldn't bother asking either therefore I was left with inevitable question after her death, was it just us alone or was there more to the dad she never talked about? As we grew older we had lived with our grand mother my mom's mom, Annie May but she too grew sick with pancreatic cancer and died a few years after. From there we were put with our great Aunt Clara but no more than a month later she had decided that we were two liabilities rather than two family members and we found ourselves in the foster system. Now we were 17, Jane was going to be graduating soon but I had decided against it. I hated school, I hated being caged so I hatched a plan that I believed made more sense after she graduates we hit the road. I had a part time job and a deli and had made enough in the last year to purchase a cheap car; my first car so why would I have stayed? It wasn't that we weren't accepted but it was because it was the early 90s and freedom was freedom.