Chapter 15

She donated the amount of money to the charity and now was turning back home. She had always been tenderhearted and compassionate after all. 

Regan smiled at herself, feeling better about what she did. Innocent children don't deserve to be poor. She knew how cruel and merciless the world was, where people only cared for themselves as if the world revolved around them. The wealthy would say that money isn't important, because it doesn't bring happiness, but with that they'd just justify themselves into not helping the poor. 

Happiness or not, they ate what they wanted, wore what they pleased, lived where they wanted. If they wouldn't call that happiness, then it'd be because of their reckless behavior. After all, everyone had their own problems, it didn't matter if they're rich or not.

When she turned back home, the main door was unlocked. Regan found Monica sitting down, looking at her phone. As she looked up, she gave her a look.

"Dear, when did you install these cameras?" Monica asked, a hint of accusation in her voice.

Regan bit her lip, "Aunt, I don't feel safe. And I can't dismiss what I feel because it sounds delusional to you.

Her aunt sighed, "Regan, our house isn't haunted. The more you overthink it, the more you'll believe it. Please, stop saying that."

Regan felt a wave of anger wash over her, but nodded, trying to play it cool. "Even if it isn't haunted, I don't feel safe in the neighborhood. I want a sense of security."

Monica placed her phone on the table, "Why didn't you mount outside the front door then?" she asked, crossing her arms.

She really had a point. How Regan didn't thought about it? But she thought that only the house was haunted, not the whole neighborhood.

"I....I forgot. But, I can turn off these downstairs," she said.

"You should have asked me first," Monica replied, her voice filled with disappointment. Regan felt a pang of guilt but she pushed it aside. Maybe if her aunt would have believed her just a little bit, it would've been different.

"I'm sorry, aunt. I didn't think about asking you first. I just wanted to feel secure, even if the house isn't haunted," she said giving her a sorry look.

"I understand that you want to feel safe, but we should have discussed it together before installing the cameras," her aunt replied, her expression softening.

"You're right, but I'll keep them for some days. If I don't notice anything suspicious, I'll remove them." Regan wasn't sure if she was going to do that but she wanted to convince her aunt to keep the cameras at least.

Monica stood up from the couch and stepped up the stairs, leaving her phone on the coffee table. Regan noticed it, her mind racing for her plan. She grabbed the phone, it didn't have a password. She opened the contacts icon and scrolled down. She searched for the name Blaire but there were three names. No surname.

She grabbed her own phone without thinking a lot and clicked photos of every number. So, if she had to call, she'd do it by her own phone. She left Monica's phone in place again and stood up, fixing her clothes.

She walked upstairs and stood on the corridor, leaning against the metal fence of the stars.

"Good try, but you're find anything, not even with cameras." Regan went stiff. He didn't haunt her only in her sleep. He haunted her mind every damn time. Why couldn't she find peace? Why she had to deal constantly with all these disturbances?

"Get the hell out of my head!" she yelled out loud.

Instead, she heard his chuckle echoing in her mind.

"This can't be happening," she muttered to herself. She decided she wouldn't think about it anymore. She would not speak in her head at all and she wouldn't care.

She could hear a low ramble but decided to ignore.

It was the least thing she wanted to do but she had no choice. She was going to call each of three numbers in hope that one of them belonged to Blaire Thompson.

They weren't a lot. Just three.

Regan walked outside, so that her aunt wouldn't listen to her calls.

She gathered her courage and anxiously dialed the first number. The phone rang, and her heart raced with anticipation. But to her disappointment, it went straight to voicemail. She hung up and moved on to the next number, hoping for better luck.

As she waited for the call to connect, Regan couldn't help but wonder about everything. How was it possible? She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.

The second call went through, but it turned out to be a wrong number. Regan sighed in frustration, feeling discouraged. She knew she had one more chance to find Blaire's number.

With a mix of hope and anxiety, Regan dialed the third and final number. The phone rang and finally someone answered. It was a woman, Blaire Thompson itself. Regan asked her about the house, if they had experienced something paranormal, or encounters with the ghosts. Regan didn't tell her her real identity thought. She said she was a paranormal investigator.

However, the woman dismissed her completely and took her as insane. Regan was frustrated and angry as she hung up.

It was just like he earlier said. She didn't find anything. She didn't want to think about the other side of the story; if the house wasn't haunted.

She couldn't believe she was hallucinating all that.

Looking around the peaceful backyard and appreciating the beauty of nature, it was a moment of solace amidst the chaos in her head. She knew she would find a way to solve this mystery and uncover the truth.

She walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water to drink. She poured water in the glass and then her eyes landed casually on the trash can. There was the red hair dye box thrown away by Monica.

She wondered if her aunt still thought she was dying her hair.

"Someone's playing games with me." Regan thought.

"Of course." His voice sent a shiver down Regan's spine. The idea of losing her sanity was terrifying. 

"Shall we play a game?"

She ignored his voice in her head, although his undecipherable ramble went on for a while.

She did some homework. Minutes later, the sound of the door opening snapped her aunt. She was relieved because she felt scared being alone at night.

The scariest thing was that she wasn't even alone.

As she greeted her aunt, the next thing that Monica said, was weird. "Tomorrow after school, we're gonna go somewhere."

"Where will we go?" Regan asked confused, following her.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Monica said while entering her bedroom and closing the door shut.

Regan's eyebrows furrowed. She didn't really like surprises. If they were going somewhere to eat, drink or shop, her aunt would've said.

She wasn't left to ask anymore, she had disturbed her aunt already by installing cameras around without her permission.

Grumpiness washed over her again. Yes, she had always carried that sense of dread, but at least she hadn't been haunted by external forces.

Nothing felt interesting and even doing practically nothing was bothering her. She couldn't imagine what would happen if she really had gone mentally insane.

Regan wished she never moved out of her previous place. She had been bullied but nothing had affected her in any way that haunting thing was. 

She lay down on the couch and few tears escaped her eyes. She hated crying, she rarely did. But this time, she couldn't help it. She didn't have to be tormented psychologically like this.

Soon, she wiped tears and stood up. But it wasn't over. The light of the kitchen flickered on. Regan looked there to see no one. But she was no idiot to think that was true.

"Why don't you just show yourself in front of me physically?" she said angrily curling her hands in a fist. Her voice was higher than she had intended to be. But he had actually show himself physically, she hadn't forgotten that unsettling encounter in the school's halls. And she knew, that she didn't want to see anything like that again.

"You'll see it. Soon."

The response was bone-chilling. Regan waited with a breath stuck in her throat, and then sighed heavily. She grabbed her laptop to look through the footage. If he was here, the camera must have caught him....

"Only if human....only real," she muttered, the words sounding terrifyingly hollow. After many skips of time and turns, the image flashed in front of her. But there was no ghost, no entity. Just her, and the words she had yelled.

"Oh God, how can this be possible?" Regan said, her eyes squirming into the dim light. A wave of exhaustion fell over her, and she slammed the laptop shut. Opened it again after a few seconds, rechecking like a maniac detective. But there was absolutely no moment of the light turned on. She looked closely to see if there had been any cuts in the camera but she couldn't find that either.

Before finally closing and being done with even considering the cameras would grant her some answers, she saw a figure hiding behind the wall in the footage. But it was no masculine figure, no creature with blue eyes. It was just her aunt, listening to her niece's outburst.

"Oh damnit," Regan muttered, covering her face with her hands. This was the least she needed. She deleted the whole footage.

Her eyes could barely hold open anymore. What would her aunt think? It was no need to contemplate. Right now, all she wanted was to forget about it, even if her sleep was an intrusive one, full of darkness and misery. But she had gotten used to it. It was the same dream, same nightmare, same being, same words.

Her legs carried her to the couch, and she steadied herself on a pillow. At least just an uneasy sleep to make it able for her to get through the next day.

****

It was 7 AM. The curiosity to check the footages again had risen, as if she hadn't experienced the last night's occurrence. It was a fleeting curiosity nonetheless. It died off as soon as it had appeared. The footages showed no creature, no paranormal movement, or roses activity. There wasn't a new bloody rose in her room. Regan closed the laptop with a thud, her heart sinking even deeper. The realization of never finding concrete proof about what was happening to her was utterly disheartening. But she knew her experiences were real. If she was hallucinating the voice, the dream, the roses were another level. The last one she had gotten was yesterday.

She dressed up in a pair of leggings and oversized shirt, put her hair in a messy bun and walked downstairs. A good and tasty scent filled her nose and she realized that Monica had made omelette.

Embarrassment washed over Regan when she remembered that her aunt heard her outburst yesterday. But Regan couldn't go back, Monica already noticed she was here.

"Good morning," Regan muttered.

"Morning. Let's go eat breakfast," Monica said and picked a tray. They ate in the backyard, Regan rushing because she didn't want to be late for school. Her aunt was quiet and Regan knew something was in her mind.

"So...why don't you tell me where we're going after school? You said you were going to tell me in the morning. And now it's morning," Regan said with a bit of annoyance. 

"Eat your food. I'll drop you off at school today and I'll pick you up," Monica said ignoring the question.

"Why? I can drive myself," Regan asked confused. She didn't want to think about what happened yesterday but wha if her aunt thought that she wasn't mentally well enough to drive a car?

"And why don't you want me to drive you? I'm your aunt."

"Yeah, you're right, I am sorry," Regan said quietly, "I'm going to leave," she added and got up from her chair. 

After 5 minutes, Monica was also ready. They both got in the car and the drive was silent. When she dropped her off, Regan just said goodbye, her mind racing with thoughts.

As she walked in the school ground, she saw Vesper chatting with a girl. She decided to not talk to her and turned to the other way. She continued going until she reached her class. Her first class was chemistry.

The class was almost filled and Regan sat down on her seat. She looked down at her phone but without doing anything. Her attention was taken away when she noticed Vesper sitting beside.

"Hi," Regan said.

"Hi," she replied.

"Can you give me some of chemistry notes?" Vesper asked.

"Sure, here you go," Regan replied sliding the notebook to her. Vesper threw her a weird look but didn't say anything.

The teacher entered the class and Regan sighed. She wasn't in mood to do anything. She didn't even know what she wanted to do. Everything seemed pointless and it looked like everything she was doing had no purpose at all.

The teacher started to drone on the lesson the class lazily followed. Regan was lost in thought and then looked at Vesper, she was making doodles in her notebook. 

The lesson was boring after all. She suddenly felt a hard tug at her arm.

"Hey, where's your mind on? I told you three times to give me a pencil," Vesper said, her voice a quiet hiss.

Regan didn't say anything and gave her a pencil.

"Stop zoning out," Vesper whispered. Regan threw her a glare and crossed her arms.

"Hey, girl," the voice echoed in her, delivering a sharp blow through her. 

"Hey, voice," she retorted.

"What a lovely outfit for a kitten who's been living inside a cave."

Regan's hand tightened so hard around the pencil that she almost broke it. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the present moment and tried to push his comments aside.

"Answer to me when I speak to you, Regan."

But she refused to. Turning her attention back to the tedious lesson, Regan tried to shut down his deep voice.

"If you ignore me any longer...."

"What?!" she thought, biting her lip, the intensity in her mind sounding almost like she said out loud.

"Such a little witch in disguise," his voice was mocking, "I wonder how do you live in a kitten's cave."

Regan didn't know what came over her, but she felt a small chuckle escape her lips. It was barely there, and she covered her mouth quickly, but not before noticing Vesper's attention wasn't lost.

"Kittens don't live in caves. And I'm not a little witch," she responded, feeling a strange flush creep up her neck.

"Well, kittens like you probably do." Was the reply she got.

Vesper nudged her, "Mrs. Claire heard you," she whispered, her eyes flicking to the teacher who now had her stern eyes fixated on Regan. Regan suddenly was all aware that the class had gone awfully quiet.

"Miss Miller!" the teacher's tone was like a whip that cracked the walls, "How many times have I called on you? What could be more important than the lesson?"

Regan swallowed hard. "I'm important, aren't I?"

Her nails dug into her palms, but it wasn't from the teacher's words. It was from his. She tried to remain calm, to not respond to him. It was like everyone would hear if she'd utter a word.

"You shall leave the class and pull your mind together young lady. There's no necessity to disrupt my class."

"I apologize, Mrs. Claire," Regan mumbled, her eyes on the notebook before her, "I won't do it again."

"What an obedient girl," his comment was the last straw, "I wonder if you'll submit so easily to me."

"Shut up!"

Gasps were heard around the class, and it didn't take long for her to realize she had now indeed said that out loud. What a grave mistake. Her face grew red in humiliation.

"What did you just say Miss Miller?!" the teacher demanded, her eyes widening in anger.

The words were wrapped like a web in her throat, "I....I don't feel very well, Mrs. Claire, I apologize. I didn't.... didn't mean to say that. I said it to..." Regan looked at the teacher and trailed off not knowing what to say.

"Said it to who?!"

"Come on, say it. Say you said it to me."

But she would never say such thing. She wasn't that much pathetic. "I apologized for it," she said once more, hoping the teacher wouldn't escalate it further.

Mrs. Claire's eyes narrowed dangerously, as if she was sizing her up, "I will choose to be lenient this time, Miss Miller," she said, the whole class's eyes gawking at the scene, "But only because you're a quiet and disciplined student. You're getting detention and extra assignments. I'll inform your aunt about your lack of focus lately. And if you don't feel well, you can go to the nurse's office. If not, stay and don't disrupt my class."

The detention and extra assignments didn't impact her a lot. But there was certainly an unease about her aunt being told the matter. Why? Just why?

Mrs. Claire continued her work, turning back to the front of the class. Regan's felt Vesper's gaze on her, but she wasn't in the mood to explain anything. She sighed, placed her arms on the desk, and put her head on them.

"Well, that was unexpected," Vesper whispered.

Regan didn't reply. Her hair cascaded around her, guarding temporarily from everyone's prying eyes. But the real prying was that one in her mind, the constant sound that seemed to have taken a root in the depths of her subconscious.

"You're so lonely," the voice remarked. She couldn't even find the strength to deny it in her own head. "Why do you surrender yourself with creatures that don't understand you? Like the one who's sitting beside you? Why do you try to hold into 'normalcy' when the opposite of it could be so much more pleasurable than the hell you're living right now?"

Regan wished she could punch something, slap herself, this entity out of her brain, this toxicity out of her thoughts. She didn't know if she was living was hell, but she knew it could get worse. She didn't even know if what she was living was reality. How could the echo of his voice vibrate so deeply and vividly, as if he was right next to her, watching like an ominous shadow?

"You're not real," she told it, her eyes clamping shut. "You—are—not!"

But the response was a chuckle, and it made her even more frustrated.

"You don't trust I'm real? What a pity, miss Miller. And here I thought I had given the illusion of hope to an alienated soul who's been starving for a little kindness. But fine, if you're so confident. Fine if you keep your tears locked like they're a treasure that will take your principles away. I will leave you. For a while, don't forget. I'm always here, miss Miller. Haunting you." And with that, he shut it.