Shit FBI? They wouldn't send the feds after you for jaywalking would they? I thought. "I didn't do anything," I blurted out. Why did my mom mouth always go off and say stupid things without my brain's permission? The two agents exchanged awkward, bemused looks. Bigfoot gave me a half smile and said "Um, okay. Good to know." I nodded and rocked back on my heels as an uncomfortable silence ensued. "Anyway," agent Ford said hastily, "we're here about the attack on a Ms. Hastings. Did you know her well? "Um, not really-" wait, I thought. How did I even know these guys were really FBI? I mean there had to be some kind of regulation against hair that long. "Can I see some ID or something?" I asked. "Of course." They each handed me their FBI badges. I stared at them, nodded and pretended like I knew what the hell I was looking for. How come no one ever taught me how to recognize fake IDs? I considered whipping out my phone and googling it really quickly, but figured that they would probably notice. I decided to just play it cool. Not one of my strong points. "Yep, everything looks to be in order here," I said, with what I hoped was confidence. I handed the badges back to them and continued, " I didn't really know her all that well, but my mom told me a lot about her." "Okay, great! Did she tell you guys about anything strange that happened to her before the attack? Or did she meet any new people recently?" " No, everyone pretty much knows everyone here. New people are very uncommon. The only thing I can think of is that she kept rambling on about flying objects in her house, but you guys probably don't care about that." The agents gave each other curious and surprised looks. "No, that could be important," Agent Ford said, "have you seen any moving objects or flickering lights? Or felt any felt any cold spots?" Okay, I was seriously starting to doubt the legitimacy of these agents. What kind of questions were those? I began to inch the door close. "Look, I think I'm done answering questions, if I didn't do anything." They looked disappointed for a second but quickly covered it up with respectful smiles. "No problem," Bigfoot said as he handed me a card, "if you see anything, give us a call." I watched them turn around and walk down the steps. Before they had gotten out of earshot, I swear I heard Ford say to Bigfoot, "Flying objects and drained blood? What the hell is that?" and then half seriously, half jokingly "Vampire Ghost?" Okay, definitely not FBI, definitely off their rockers, I thought. I slammed the door and watched them get into their '67 Chevy Impala. They might be crazy but damn, that was a nice car. Alright, in the interest of not boring anyone reading this, I'm going to skip all the boring domestic stuff. We went to dinner with Robert. It was good, he seemed really nice and really in love with my mom. It was great. Things got interesting at about 2:00 A.M that night or morning I guess. I woke up to the sound of shattering glass. I jolted out of bed and into my fighting stance. Thank God no one was there to see it. It was pretty embarrassing. I looked over to the corner of my room to see the glass of my mirror completely shattered. Shit shit shit, I thought. I grabbed my metal baseball ball that sat next to my bed. I had never played baseball, but I was nothing if not paranoid and prepared. Before I could shout "Who's there?" I remembered that the people who shouted that always died first in the movies. Why did my mom have to go stay at Robert's for the night and leave me alone to fend off the perpetrator? I tried to keep calm. Logically, I knew he had to be somewhere else in the house because there was nowhere to hide in my room and I couldn't see him. Then, a stack of books flew off my shelf and crashed into the opposite wall and all thoughts of being logical went out the window. I ran out of my room. I was too scared to look back, but I heard picture frames fly off the walls behind me. I burst out of the front door and looked back at my house. Frankly, I had no clue what to do. As of 3 minutes ago, I hadn't believed in any invisible entities of any kind. Now, I had two choices, believe in invisible entities or believe that I had gone crazy. I didn't want to believe the latter option so I latched on to the former. I still needed a plan of action though. I couldn't go to the police, they would never believe—wait, the FEDS! Yeah, I was relatively sure they weren't actually FBI, but maybe they were like super traveling ghost fighters, and that's what I needed at that moment. It was time for me to tap into my as of then unused courage and go back in the house to get the card with their number. I took a deep breath and then ran inside before I could talk myself out of it. I made a beeline for the counter, where the card was. I dialed the number into my phone and hesitated before hitting the call button. It's 2:00 A.M; I can't call them this late. They're probably sleeping. I thought, and then quickly scolded myself. This is ridiculous, if there was ever a time to not be polite, its now, I thought as I hit call and began sneaking back to the door. He, Agent Ford I think, answered on the third ring "Hello?" He answered groggily. I must have woken him up, I thought guiltily. "Hi, sorry to wake you, but you talked about flying objects earlier and now flying objects are chasing me around my house so I could probably, maybe use some help." I spat out quickly. I heard commotion in the background and he said "Get out of the house, we'll be there soon." I hung up and ran back outside but just as I passed the threshold, something pulled my feet out from under me and started to drag me back into the house. I screamed very girlishly. Damn, I didn't know my voice could go that high. I grasped for anything to hold on to, but whatever was pulling me was too strong. I was released when I got to the kitchen, but that relief was quickly clouded over by panic when a knife floated out of a drawer and came towards me. I tried to run but I was slammed into the wall, sending a sharp burst of pain through my shoulder. I was picked up off the floor and held against the wall, helpless as the knife began to puncture my neck. Pain is weird. When I watched T.V and people got hurt, I always thought, c'mon, that doesn't look so bad. I can handle that. But in reality, even this relatively small pain was overwhelming. It had a way of hazing over my mind and detaching me from reality. Suddenly, before the knife could cut any deeper it dropped from the air and I was released. I fell in a heap on the floor, causing more stabbing pains to move through my shoulder and down my arm. I was hazy with shock but realized that the front door had been kicked open and Ford and Hamill were now in the house. Hamill ran past me into the kitchen and Ford squatted down next to me. "Can you walk?" He barked out. "Um…yeah,yeah. I'm fine," I stammered as I tried to reorient myself. He offered me a hand to help me up but I ignored it, using the wall as support. I felt something warm trickle down my neck, and when I lifted up my arm, to see what it was, a raging pain responded in protest. "Fuck," I gasped accidentally. Ford looked concerned for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with a professional look. He looked at my neck and then my arm hanging limply by my side, and said, "The knife didn't cut deep enough, you'll be fine. But your arm is dislocated." He then looked over my shoulder and shouted, "Sammy, we gotta get her to a hospital." "Excuse me?" I said, trying to control the raising volume of my voice. "I'm attacked by a flying knife and you expect me to just be dropped off at a hospital? First off, how am I going to explain a knife wound and secondly, I want answers and you guys obviously have them." I looked around at their frustrated yet bemused faces. I was on a roll. "So yeah. I'm sure you guys can just patch this up and then you can tell me what the actual fuck is going on." "Look, you really should go to a hospital, we can take care of this," Ford said. "No way, I'm involved now and if you think I'm just going to sit around as you and Bigfoot here play ghost hunter, you're dead wrong." You can always count on life threatening experiences to cure you of your social incompetence, it seemed. "Did you just call him Bigfoot?" Ford asked as a huge grin spread across his face. I looked at each of them nervously and rocked back and forth on my heels. "Uh, maybe?" I responded. Ford started laughing "That's hilarious." He said. I tried not to smile but his laugh was, and I hate to admit this, kind of infectious. "It's also not the point." Hamill said from behind me. "Look, we'll take you back to the motel, take care of your injuries and explain some of what's happening." "But after that, you're done. Its dangerous for you to be involved got it?" Ford interjected. "Fine." I said, hiding my smug smile. I had no intention of being uninvolved anytime soon.