Sorry it took so long for me to get this posted. Haven't been on for a few weeks. :)

So anyway, chapter 13 has to be one of my favorite chapters to write, which kinda scares me a little from all the Charlie whumping. (Ah, poor Charlie. He's always gets the butt end of my attacks.)
I guess deep inside we're all a little evil. 3:)

- ThumperHorror Film

Chapter 13

"I'm fine," Charlie said for the fifth time that hour, probably the hundredth time that night, and most likely the millionth time that week. "Really, I am."

Amita looked away, back at the old movie that was playing on the TV. "I didn't say anything," she said guiltily.

Charlie turned his head to look at her and forced a smirk to his lips. "But you were thinking it."

"I wasn't…" Amita started and stopped because he was right. "I just… feel like something's wrong."

Charlie studied her, "What do you mean?"

Amita looked him straight in the eyes. There was a look of concern there that made Charlie's heart skip a beat. "I'm worried about you."

He broke her gaze. It felt like he had been here in this conversation before. "You talked to Don." he stated simply.

Amita nodded. "Yes. I talked to Don. But I felt this way before that."

Charlie took her hand in his and kissed it. He put on the most comforting smile he could manage, "You don't have to worry about me," he told her, "You can tell my brother that too."

"It's not that easy though." she said, letting him hold her hand. "I thought you would go back to acting…" Amita searched for the right word, "… normal again after you got over Stacy's death, but you haven't. And this is serious now. I think you should see a doctor."

Charlie looked away from her back to the TV. A black-and-white couple was strolling hand in hand down an old-fashioned street. "I don't think that would help," he said slowly.

"Why not?"

"Because I already have. In the hospital Friday." Charlie informed her.

Amita was obviously surprised. That might have offended him if they were in a different conversation, but they weren't, so it didn't. Amita quickly regained her composure. "And?" she urged.

"And," Charlie waved a hand, "nothing. Everything came up with nothing. There isn't anything wrong with me."

Charlie could sense the relief washing off of her and that alone made him feel better, feel normal again. For a moment, the fog that clouded his thoughts lifted. It was such a breath of fresh air in the past month that Charlie could laugh with the relief of it.

"That's great," Amita breathed. She curled up next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I heard the most absurd thing tonight though." Charlie said after a moment of watching the movie in silence.

"Mmm?" Amita said in a way of telling him to continue.

"I was told I was haunted."

"As in a ghost, haunted?" she asked.

"Yeah. A woman came up to me and said there was 'a spirit attached to me' or something ominous like that." he scoffed. "Insanity, right? Just another psychic trying to get their fame."

Amita smiled. "You know, some people actually believe they can see spirits, not just lie for the money."

Charlie's eyebrow went up. "Aren't there pills for that?"

"You have to be able to be accessible to ideas of the supernatural," Amita laughed.

Charlie gagged, all joking aside. "You can't possible believe that the soul's of dead people still roam the earth!"

"I didn't say I believed it." Amita confirmed. "I just like to keep my mind open. And horror films are a hobby."

"Horror films are one thing," Charlie chuckled, "There are no such things as ghosts."

Amita sighed. "Larry would be irate with your skepticism."

He smirked. Even Larry had a hard time trying to justify psychic's abilities. He was just going to say as much when he was cut short by the lights. They flickered once, twice, and were still. Charlie and Amita exchanged glances.

"Maybe someone heard us," she whispered, holding back a laugh.

Charlie shook his head. "It's probably just a surge or something."

They watched the movie for a bit longer, grinning at the lame lines. There was only thirty minutes left when the TV began to go fuzzy. Snowy lines raced across the screen, expanding until the whole screen was filled with the black and white fuzz. Charlie narrowed his eyes and untangled himself from the couch and Amita to see what was wrong. He jiggled a couple of wires in the back, and when that didn't help, hit it on the side. The screen turned blue. A numb ache began above his left eye, the same place where he had hit his head in the crash Friday. Only the pain wasn't from the wound; it was more like a headache.

Charlie turned back to Amita, ready to admit defeat and call the able company in the morning. The lights flickered again, rapidly this time fro a whole half minute before going out completely. The room was bathed in an eerie blue light from the television. Amita was halfway off the couch now, looking perfectly perplexed. Charlie raised a hand to stop her from getting up. "It's probably the fuse. I'll get it."

Amita nodded and settled on the couch again, obviously a little startled. Charlie found a flashlight in the dining room and went out to the garage where the fuse box was. He raised a hand to his head and winced as the dull ache became more piercing. It felt like someone was pounding him in the head with something hard and blunt. He tried to ignore it the best he could as he found the fuse box and tried to find something that could have affected the lights.

A scream echoed from inside the house that made his heart almost stop cold. His whole body froze, the flashlight dropping from his hand and bouncing twice on the cement floor. And then heard Amita call his name. "Charlie!"

"Amita!" he called back finally regaining the use of his muscles. He forgot completely about the flashlight in his panic to get back inside the house.

But something weird was happening. The dark rooms Charlie had known all his life began to twist and turn sickeningly in front of him. An overwhelming drowsiness like he had never felt before came over him. It made it hard for him to navigate his way through the blackness of the house.

He managed to stumble his way through the dining room, knocking over a chair painfully as he went. By the time Charlie reached the living room, he was fighting to keep his eyes open. The TV had gone back to snow. The sound of it was too loud, too piercing to be normal. He winced as it reached his ears.

Amita was standing by the couch, a look of pure terror in her eyes. Charlie tried to hurry toward her, but the other side of the room seemed like miles away. He stumbled into a table and tripped, the side of his head making contact with the doorway. He hasped from the pain shooting through his nerves.

He dashed the rest of the way to where Amita was standing. He meant to hold her and calm her down. Instead the floor twisted in a strange angle, and he fell, dragging Amita down with him. They both tumbled into a heap on the couch. "What happened?" he asked, trying to sound urgent. It came out hazy and distant.

"Th-there were footsteps," she spit out sounding close to tears. "I know it sounds crazy, but they were right in front of me. And then something… flew by my head." Amita took a deep shaky breath. When Charlie didn't respond, she searched to see his face in the darkness. "Charlie?"

From far away, Charlie could hear Amita repeating his name. And then he heard her gasp, "Oh my god, you're bleeding!"

As proof of this, something warm and wet slipped into his left eye, making it burn. Charlie couldn't find the energy to wipe it out. He could feel himself growing farther and farther away from everything. Amita's voice became more and more garbled and distant. A panic took over his body at this point and he tried to call out for help, but it was lost somewhere in his throat. He was slipping closer to unconsciousness every second. Everything collided into one; the pain in his head and knee, the dizziness, Amita's faint voice and panic-stricken face. He closed his eyes.

The lights flickered back on, and just as fast as the electricity's speed to the lamp, whatever had come over Charlie was gone. He felt perfectly fine, albeit his throbbing head and knee where he had crashed into the chair and wall. He opened his eyes. Amita was right there above him, looking distraught with worry. They both stared at each other for a long time, as if both mentally asking, "What happened?"

"What is going on down here/" An irritated voice came from the stair well. "It sounds like someone's dying."

Charlie and Amita both scrambled up to a sitting position as Alan came down the stairs. He had come straight from bed; his hair was ruffled and he was wearing a bathrobe. They turned their stares to him from overtop the couch back.

Alan looked from one to the other. He gauged their expressions and his won irritated look changed to nervous concern. He stopped t the base of the stairs. "What happened?"

Charlie exchanged a look with Amita. Where could they even begin to explain?

For the first time, Charlie realized he was sitting on something hard and solid. He reached a hand slowly into the couch and retrieved a hammer. He held it up and looked questioningly at it.

Alan glanced at the hammer and then saw the blood on his youngest son's forehead. "Okay, someone explain to me what happened. And fast."