Most people would think it strange that I could sleep in a room like that. Even if Jamie hadn't scared me, the entity in the attic should have. It did, but my rational mind likes to play as many tricks on me as my subconscious does, and I attributed the deeper chill to the fact that that room has no heat. Naturally the air from there is colder, even all the way across the room.

​

I also had Jamie to keep me company. Apparently the previous occupant hadn't listened to much much music, because that was the one thing it always had an opinion on! Even if I had no empathic abilities, I could have known how Jamie felt about the music. Every day when I woke up, or even when I walked in the door after being at school all day, I was greeted with a barely contained stir. If it could be rustled by a breeze, it shifted in anticipation, like a puppy wagging it's tale. I could almost here it ask me, "What are we going to play today?"

​

It's not that I actually had any control over the music, just an acknowledgment that I knew more about it, I think. Most of my choices were greeted with some form of dance, from thumping to the beat, to swirling curtains with mellowed melodies. It was the day Jamie pulled the plug on the stereo, that I understood I was to consider it's feelings in my choices too. We had to build up to the happy tunes when Jamie was sad.

It was in the nights that I learned what made Jamie sad. Nights can be lonely times, especially for the corporeal. If you have bound your being to another, the nights can be a horror.

​

It had been, before I came along. At least that's the way I understood. Jamie never said a word, but I saw things. Lying there in the darkness with whispers of Mozart, my dreams were full of the sorrows committed before anyone with strength and knowledge came along. I tried to explain that what Jamie sought came from Grandmother Eel, not me, but it seemed to think the lock on that attic door remained because I stayed when Grandmother left.

​

Of all the lessons Grandmother taught me, it was the strength of the Spirit world that served me best. It was only in the Spirit World that we are complete; Body, Mind, and Heart. In the Physical Realm we lose understanding, and our thoughts give power to things that should not be.

​

Like the entity in the attic. It should not be. It was the residue of some atrocity that was worth less than my attention. It was in this that I took it's strength; in this way I maintained the lock on that door.

But I was a foolish mortal, survivor of my own horrors, and prone to aggressive stupidity when provoked, especially in my youth. I did not understand that I was being provoked in questioning, not rejection. Now that I'm older, I understand new environments must contain their own tests. In my desire to prove myself, I opened doors better left closed.

​

Like the attic door.

​

Starting a new school was easier with LauraLai there, and though she made it a point to introduce me to others, she couldn't know someone stranger-friendly in ever one of my classes, I guess, because I found myself in a pocket of some of the most hostile creatures I had ever met: teenage girls. The teacher droned on about the American system of "Checks and Balances" while I compiled song lists to try out at home, ever aware of the constant hum around me.

​

Sometimes I cannot be sure if those sounds come from within or without. If you have ever heard anyone scream at you with a look, you have an idea of what I might mean. I choose to ignore it, usually assuming it is the hum of so many thoughts around me. It's most unfortunate when my assumptions are wrong, especially when the one making the noise has decided for unknown reasons to be at odds with you.

"Ouch!"

​

"Is there a problem Miss Jordon?"

​

"Um, no sir! I caught my arm on a sharp edge. Sorry!" Sharp edge my ass! That was going to leave a bruise!

"Smart move, unlike ignoring me!"

​

"What!?"

​

"I heard you lived in that creepy house across from the library."

​

"So?"

​

"I wanna come see it."

​

"What?"

​

"I wanna come see it. Your house. Go inside and see how creepy it is for myself. Since you're there it's probably even more creepy!"

​

"Because that's the way to get me to invite you over."

​

"Ladies! I'm sure your social agenda can wait until the bell rings!" And that was how it all started.

Every damn day Bobbie Jean poked and prodded at me to get into my house. Literally, poked and prodded. I had small bruises from pencils shoved into my arm or back as I walked by her desk. At least once a week there was some new form of written notice of intent. From fake invitations, to letters of apology followed by another pinch more often than not, Bobbie Jean never gave up.

​

I should have known she was harmless, but, as I said, I was young and foolish, and rose to my greatest disgrace.

​

Summers get hot in Ohio. Just as winters can be too cold to snow, summers can be hot enough to make a Cajun beg for mercy. That's the kind of heat that brings out sass and stupidity, as Grandma used to say, and that day I was raring for it. Jamie was being moody for some un-known reason, and I had had enough of a damn spirit being dictating what I was going to listen to, so I went outside where it couldn't seem to go.

It was hot. I was sticky and angry. Bobbie Jean walked by with her nastiness and said, "So is today the day, creep?", and I said "Sure!"

​

I'm not certain which of us were more surprised, but as soon as I said it, I discovered the worm in my being. I knew exactly what I was going to show her.

​

By then I had discovered that mine was not the only house with unusual inhabitants. Most of the other people I had gotten to know in Circlehallow had stories of cans rolling back and forth on their own, or even their parents with full apparition sightings. I knew that Jamie wasn't anything unusual in Circlehallow, nor was a person who was OK living amongst ghosts, so my house didn't seem to be anything special. She was just being antagonistic.

​

So I was intent upon teaching her a lesson. When I was through with her, she would never poke and prod anyone. Never antagonizes another being without reason, ever again! As soon as I opened that front door I was blind to everything but my purpose. I did not notice the growing chill in an un-air conditioned home. I did not notice the frantic waving of everything within my line of sight. I didn't even notice the laughter bubbling in my chest.

​

I lead Bobbie Jean up that stairwell with a determination that was foreign to me. I saw the hand on my bedroom door as if it belonged to someone else. Bobbie Jean knew it wasn't right. She stood in my doorway staring at the attic door, paralyzed with what might be. "Isn't this what you came for?", I whispered in here ear. "Isn't this what all the excitement is about? You've waited so long and now it's here." I stepped away laughing. "You don't even have what it takes to open the door!" I was un-aware that I could must such scorn. Indeed, I didn't know where all this hatred came from, but I knew how to get rid of it!

​

With every once of energy I focused my being at Bobbie Jean. "Open that door!", I thought at her like the impact from a train. I should have stopped her. I should have stopped myself, but I was too far gone in a darkness I had never known existed. Some small part of me screamed to stop her. Jamie pulled at her, leaving claw marks with the indentations of her screams. Nothing could stop that attic door from being opened.