CHAPTER 5
The house starts small.
Doors closing themselves. Windows unlocked after I lock them. Footsteps that stop when I stop.
At school, I start zoning out. Teachers snap my name. Friends stop asking questions.
By day three, rumors start.
“You moving again?” someone asks.
“No.”
“Your house is haunted.”
I don’t react fast enough.
They see it. The flinch. The confirmation.
By day five, someone leaves a note in my locker.
GHOST GIRL
Sharpie. All caps.
At home, Jack gets stronger. He can sit now. Lean. Touch things if he concentrates.
He can’t leave the house.
“I’ve tried,” he says, watching the front door like it personally insulted him.
“Why does it keep you here?”
He hesitates. That’s new.
“I died here,” he says finally.
The word lands harder than before.
“How?”
He looks away. “That’s not the worst part.”
“Then what is?”
“That no one came looking,” he says. “And I waited anyway.”
Something in my chest fractures.
That night, I light the candle without him asking.
The flame burns blue.
Jack swears under his breath.
“That’s bad,” he says.
“What’s bad?”
“The house is paying attention.”
The walls creak. Slow. Listening.
“Jack,” I whisper. “You’re scared.”
He doesn’t deny it.
“Jessica,” he says, voice tight. “If it comes down to it—”
The candle goes out on its own.
Smoke floods the room.
And a voice that isn’t Jack’s says my name.
