When the day finally came, a plethora of footsteps could be heard from the floor above, leading me to believe that Cyrus had hired a cleaning crew to make the house immaculate and even more irresistible to the soon-to-be thirteenth ghost. While the others were contenting themselves with listening to the ruckus, I crept closer to the Juggernaut's cell, still tentative of how I approached the giant man.

"Excuse me, Horace?" I half whispered, my form curled up in one of the corners facing his cell, despite how restless I felt. He appeared, then, leaning boredly against the wall with his back facing me. However, his head was turned as he looked at me, obviously wondering what I was going to say. I stared at him, weighting my words, before going through with it.

"Have you thought about my offer? I think you're going to like your task, if you accept." I said coyly, an earnest look brightening my face as I cast him a quirky grin. Minutes passed and I remained sitting still, frozen to my spot while waiting for his answer. After another five minutes of him not replying, I frowned pitifully, at then which he nodded.

"Yes! Your job's the most fun, I think. All you have to do is stop anyone who interferes with our plan...by any means necessary." At this, the Juggernaut's face brightened. The cruel smirk that he donned disturbed me, but I was relieved, since he had probably been planning on doing close to the same thing; gaining bonus points with him was always a good thing.

"Is everyone clear on what they're doing?" I asked while turning to look at the others. Dana and the Jackal nodded, but Royce seemed a little skeptical, staring at me with a furrowed brow.

"What will you be doin', through all this, Doll?" He prompted, not easily trusting-one of the traits we shared.

"Well, seeing as the machine will have you all released, at different times, I need to mix up the order of things. I've figured that I'll be the first one out-Cyrus is that cocky-and will use my telekinesis to my advantage. I can't directly pull the lever, since there are most definitely spells in the control room, but I can influence the person Dana leads into the room to pull the levers, out of order. This will both stall Cyrus and provide extra time to find that pompous ass." I explained, mentally slapping myself for not telling them, sooner. Had they expected me to sit around while they did all the work? Well, seeing as I couldn't feel much trust radiating off of even Dana, I guessed that they had. I couldn't say that I would trust them to save my neck, but the doubt still stung.

I closed my eyes, curling into myself while preparing myself for what I needed to do. As I did, all of my hurt and anger began to simmer-a quiet, gradual shift. I needed to concentrate-I would kill them all-to keep my head level-they're blood would soon be spilled-and my temperament even…

"Keep still, keep still, keep still." I muttered urgently, fists balled, body tensed. The half of me that lusted for bloodshed was overwhelming the half of me that had once painted elegant portraits of streams and melting snow. I cringed, feeling shadows and lights whipping around in me, neither about to surrender.

I have morals, damn it! I cried from my head. Morals and values! I shouldn't even have to be thinking about this! While basking in my misery, I heard the voice I had been waiting to make an appearance, in my head.

It's a choice between what you want to do and what you need to do. I peered up into crazed blue eyes, surprisingly fine with the fact that my counterpart was rooting through my memories. It was sort of like a take a penny, leave a penny, situation.

I happen to still have some traces of sanity left, Jackal. I retorted, grimacing when he grazed the memory of the dog attack.

Being sane isn't as important as having fun! He stated, a gravelly laugh echoing through my head. I, however, was unamused and shivered as he treaded through the last low point of my life, before I died.

I watched mutely from the background as a screen-like scene appeared in the back of my mind. A still living version of me perched on a cabinet in one of the bathrooms of my house. By the length of my hair, I guessed I was seventeen, at the time. My hair-not yet matted and dimmed from the sea water-was tied up in a ponytail, my ringlets cascading down to the middle of my back. I was hunched over, one knee to my chest, busying myself with the metallic object in my hand. Both my past self and I watched, untroubled, as red began to glimmer and trickle down from my upper thigh, staining the sides of the counters and making small puddles on the floor. My past self's face was a concentrated frown, showing neither pain nor satisfaction at the new scars I had created.

I blinked, ripping the memory away from the Jackal, feeling dizzied from such a strong flashback.

That was private. I thought to him, indignant. He grinned at me in reply, an animalistic showing of amusement.

And not very sane of you, either. You still have those scars, girly? He asked, a gleam in his eyes. My head, which had been slightly inclined towards my chest, snapped up so I could glare at him. I had a strong premonition that I was going to be ambushed, before the day was over.

"That's none of your business." I replied heatedly. Stone gave off a growl-like humming. I quickly quieted him with a simple look.

We both know that I'm going to find out. You might as well tell me, or I'm going to do it the hard way! The maniac stated, his tone promising the words he whispered in my head. I shook my head defiantly, a look of utter intolerance resting on my face.

The sooner I can rid myself of you, the better.


A few hours later, everyone had ended up sulking to themselves. I was because of the Jackal's rummaging around through my mind, the Jackal because of the last comment I had made to him, Royce because he still didn't trust my words, and Dana because that's just what she did. The utter lack of light didn't much improve the mood, either. I sighed-this was no mood to be in, right before a basement-wide exacting of revenge. Glancing around, my mind rather bored, a small smile lit my face as my eyes landed on Stone.

"Stone: song five of playlist 2-B." I requested quietly, smiling brightly as the first six counts of six, played by a guitar, rang throughout the basement. The drums, base, and vocals shortly followed, intertwining with each other while still maintaining their own independent sounds. I sat back, calm and reserved, while they all perked up slightly from the familiar song; everyone, no matter which era they are from, will always appreciate Enter Sandman.

"Now, listen here and listen good," I commanded over the music, sanding to face all of them, "We are about to begin the first stage of our vendetta. The sun's setting-they should be here, in a few hours. Everyone needs to have a clear head, if we're to pull this off; If anyone's got anything to say to me, then say it." I stared, unblinking, at the silent majority. After a few moments of awkward silence, Royce shifted in his seated position on his overturned car, not looking at all timid about what he wanted to say.

"I don't trust you." He stated solemnly. I nodded, my own solemn expression showing, listening offhandedly as the next song began to play: Careless Whisper, one of my favorites.

"I don't need your trust," I replied confidently, "I just need to know that you're going to carry out your part of the job." I mirrored the dumbfounded look he cast me when he didn't respond.

"Why not?"

"Why should I?"

"I really don't get you, Doll." The smile I cast was purely beneficial to the mood I gave off.

"There's nothing to get; I'm not as complicated as one would think me to be. Philosophically speaking, all I really am is a shadow of a person who once existed. Depressing, isn't it? Well, it would be, if you weren't simply copying a possible reaction that your former self would have given." I said, trying to keep a serious disposition, but failing miserably. Despite the laughter building up inside me, I was still serious, which Royce instantly picked up on.

Since when am I synchronized with that, I pondered and looked at the Torn Price, and not that? I peered at the Jackal, who was scratching as the glass like a cat stuck outside on the snowiest day of winter.

"So, you don't trust me, either?" Royce gathered.

"Pretty much." I confirmed.

"...Why not?" I looked-really looked-at him, seeing the genuine person he was capable of being. I felt pain strike me as I found myself wanting to trust him and another pain as I couldn't bring myself to.

"Because," I said sadly, "trusting someone lead to my death."


The fourth marking period of any school year really is tough, you guys! I have about five projects and have to write a zombie apocalypse story by the 21st(yeah, my creative writing teacher has that kind of humor)! XD Pheew, but I'll keep updating, as long as I know people are interested in reading this story.

Until next week,

Jess