Hey everyone. Here's another chapter..

Chapter 4... Sleep

Brooke was sitting quietly, alone, her hands joined together. She was looking outside the window, from inside Karen's Café, wondering what the heck had happened last night. She didn't believe Haley was haunting her, but she didn't believe she was slowly going insane, either. She tapped her foot on the ground, and sighed, closing her eyes for a second.

"Brooke, you alright?" Asked a familiar voice, in a considerate tone. It was Karen, with her hand on Brooke's left shoulder.

Brooke opened her eyes. She forced a smile, and muttered, "Yeah. Thanks for asking. I'm doing fine." She looked up at Karen, who kept gazing at Brooke.

"Brooke, I may not be a teenager anymore, or your best friend, but I can still tell when you're lying." She walked forward and sat in front of Brooke, patting her hand softly.

"What's wrong?"

Brooke took a quick peek at the rest of the café. Empty, for now, Karen had been cleaning up. Brooke didn't realize how long she'd been sitting there. But suddenly, she wanted to leave.

"It's… it's nothing Karen, really," Brooke replied, about to stand.

"Are you sure? I'm always here to help, you know." Karen smiled, reassuringly.

And Brooke stopped, looking at Karen. "Do you believe in… ghosts?"

Fourteen Hours Ago.

"Oh my god. Best. Birthday. Ever!" Bevin squeaked, jumping up and down, almost falling, as she hung onto Mouth. It was 2 AM, and they'd all just left the nightclub. The whole time Peyton had been worried, but kept up the happy charade, as had Mouth, who kept quiet about the bloody hand he'd seen. It was Bevin's twentieth; they didn't want to ruin her mood. And she was having such a great time.

All of them were walking down the town streets, a disorderly file, Rachel equally sloshed, only Peyton and Mouth close to sober.

"You know… you know what would be fuckin' awesome right now?" Rachel questioned the others, nudging Peyton. "A Snickers. I need a Snickers bar, damn you!"

And then she burst into a fit of giggles, and Bevin joined in, Mouth and Peyton laughing awkwardly. Minutes passed in drunken noise and loud unfunny jokes, as they reached the hotel, and went up the elevator.

"Aww, we're already here…" Bevin pouted, leaning against her room's closed door.

Mouth gave Peyton a meaningful 'take care of her' look, and helped Rachel into the room. She was almost falling on him, and as he was about to close the door, shouted, "What? You can't take me! Never!"

He couldn't help but think she was completely out of it. And to make things worse, she pushed her way through the door past Mouth, and screamed, "Viva La Revolution!"

Mouth stepped outside and caught her by the stomach, dragging her in, just as Rachel looked down the hall and shouted, "Oye! You there, hoodie boy! Save me! Save me!"

He stared down the hall at the man Rachel was supposedly calling out too, and indeed, there was a man walking ahead. The man was tall, wearing faded blue jeans, and above, a black hood. Mouth kept quiet, and just as he was about to pull Rachel inside the room, the man looked back, straight at them.

Mouth stopped, dead in his tracks, and the man looked back ahead, walking into the elevator. He hadn't seen the man's face properly, all he saw were the man's lips, and they were smiling.

Meanwhile, in 12/21, Peyton was trying to convince Bevin to go to sleep.

"Come on, aren't you tired?" Peyton asked, cooing Bevin into sleeping. She herself was tired, and needed a good night's rest.

"Me? Tired? Never!" Bevin replied, standing on her bed and jumping up and down. Too much Vodka really brought out the worst in her, Peyton thought.

And then, she bumped her head on the ceiling, cursed, and fell atop the bed, yelping and laughing. Peyton couldn't help but grin at Bevin's antics, and she too started laughing.

And soon, Bevin was out.

…

Knock knock.

Bevin's eyes opened, wearily. The lights were off. The knocking sound had been coming for a long time now, Bevin could tell. She sat up, looking sideways, and behind her. The curtains on the window were drawn, and she could see the moonlight filter inside. She glanced at Peyton sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by the knocks.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

There it was again. Bevin put her feet onto the floor, yawning. Her head didn't hurt, which was strange, since she remembered getting hammered last night. She walked slowly and droopily to the door, her tiny feet making cloth-like sounds. She was wearing a huge pink tee shirt, and just underwear. She stopped as she reminisced, the day Skills had given her the tee-shirt as a present. It'd been her favourite ever since, the most comfortable.

Knock.

The final sharp knock propelled her to turn the handle and open the door, and once she did, she stood silent. It was Torrence. Ian's friend. His long black hair, his muscular build, she remembered him perfectly – the man who'd killed Skills. The man she'd battered with the baseball bat, leaving him for dead in the cabin. The same man who was now smiling at Bevin, beaming at Bevin.

"Hello, love," he said to her, revealing a tall knife in his right hand, from behind his back.

She stepped back, not believing this was happening. Not now, not here.

"You're… you're dead," she stuttered, frightened.

He cackled wickedly. "What's the matter? Don't you believe in ghosts?"

"Peyton!" Bevin screamed -- her voice cracking as she looked back. Her senses surged with adrenaline and fear. But before she could run, she felt the cold knife on her neck, slitting it deep. Her throat felt choked, the blood seeped onto her pink shirt.

The shirt Skills had given her.

She could feel the pain; she could feel the knife, as he made holes in her favourite tee-shirt. Again, and again.

Well, that's all for now. Please let me know what you think. Thanks!