"Torn Prince….Angry Princess….Pilgrimess….Great Child and Dire Mother…Hammer….Here it is! Jackal!" I said to myself, pulling the leather bounded diary with 'The Jackal' written on the tape stuck to the spine. I sat down on the desk and removing the ribbon, untying the file. I opened the first page to see a picture of a young man, about 20 with long black hair with shocking captivating blue/gray eyes and pale skin. He had a haunting look to him. He had on a straight jacket that held his arms in place. He was giving the camera a menacing glare.

"Is…this you?" I asked, giving the notebook to the ghost. He glanced at the picture then sent the notebook across the room, slapping into the glass wall on the other side of the library.

"That is not me anymore!" He hissed. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from trembling, refusing to show fear to him. I got up and grabbed the notebook, opening it to the page after the picture. It was a profile on Ryan Kuhn.

Name: Ryan Kuhn

A.A.D.: 19

Cause of Death: Fire broke out in Borehamwood Asylum where Ryan was kept. Ryan refused to leave to meet his deserved fate.

Life story: Mother was prostitute. He liked to rape, and murdering prostitute. Probably ate them. He had the cunning of a wild animal when he killed. Committed himself to Borehamwood Asylum where the guards kept him in a straight jacket and placed in a padded cell. He went completely insane, scratching at the walls until his fingernails were ripped off. After that he was kept permanently in a straight jacket, the guards tying it tighter and tighter when he acted out, causing his limbs to contort horribly. He gnawed through the straight jacket so the doctors put his head in a cage, putting him in a dark basement cell. He grew to hate any human contact, cowering when people came near him.

At the bottom of the profile was a handwritten note saying, "Ryan is a very violent ghost. Perverted. Will claw at you."

"You were only 2 years older than me when you died." I mumbled, before looking at me which turned into staring at him.

"WHAT!" He cried, after 2 minutes of me staring at him.

"Why did you stay behind when the Asylum was on fire?" I asked softly.

"YOU DON'T SEE HOW MUCH OF A MONSTER I AM! I look like a fucking devil! I deserved to die!" He screamed. I gulped and resisted the urge to comfort him. So he isn't cold and heartless…he's just human. Ghosts do feel emotions. I just want to hold him…but he will probably cower or not let me even near him.

"You don't look like a devil…." I heard myself say.

"Then what the fuck do I look like then!" He hissed, getting right into my face, looking dead in my eyes.

"You look….." I paused before I could say what I wanted, and I bit my lip.

"WHAT! You can't lie to me! Don't even fucking bother trying to!" He growled. I smelt his hot sweet breath. For a dead guy, he's got some fresh breath. "COME ON YOU WHORE! SAY WHAT YOU REALLY THINK! NOW!" He screamed in my face.

"You look fucking hot! Okay!" I yelled right back into his face, before realizing what I said. I quickly covered my mouth, waiting for the Jackal to react. He was just staring at me, his eyes widen, and his mouth open slightly. Finally I got sick of him just staring. "Say something!"

"I think you're beautiful."

"Whattt? But you hate women! You ate them! You murdered them..."

"I hate prostitutes. Not actually non slutty girls."

"There cannot be THAT many prostitutes."

"You would be surprised. In the 1880's and 1890's there were a lot."

"Did they show their...shoulders! Nude! In public!" I faked being shocked, my hand over my mouth. He chuckled, and smiled slightly.I smiled back.

"They didn't show any skin. They just gave it up...alot...to strange men...I just wished...my mother wasn't like that"He looked at the floor. Before I could help myself, my arms were wrapped around him. He just pushed me off. "I don't need your pity, you whore! You're just like her! You give it up to anyone who even looks at you!"

"What's wrong with you! You have so many mood swings! I can't take it anymore!" I yelled, picking up his file and leaving. I heard him huff and growl and follow me.

"I do not have mood swings!"

"You do too! I mean one moment you're only nice, then you're sad, then you're all RAWR RAWR RAWR!" I yelled, impersonating a lion at the end, continuing to walk towards my room.

"Well sorry if you can't understand being a murderer, you fucking whore!"

"Another thing I am not a whore!" I growled, before sliding my bedroom door shut. I heard him scream and watched him claw at the glass. I huffed loudly and jumped onto my bed. I checked my cell phone. I had one text from my mother. Zero from my so called best friends from L.A.I clicked to view the text message. Hey hun. me and your sister decided to get some dinner then go see a movie. Be back at 10ish.

"Maybe I wanted to see a movie..." I mumbled. I put my dark gray 160 GB iPod Video into my black iHome, then picked 'Waking the Demon' by Bullet for my Valentine. I looked at the door to see if the Jackal was there. I didn't see him so I changed into black sweat pants and a black H.I.M. tank top. I picked up my guitar world magazine, and flopped on my bed, unaware of the intruduer to my room, who had figured out how to open my door by pushing a button.

"You fucking whore!" Ryan screamed.I shrieked, throwing my magazine. I glared at him and tried to calm myself. He just stared at me from the foot of my bed.