"I don't appreciate you sharing my most private thoughts, Lola," Tate said as he reached out and grabbed her. He held her close by the shoulders. "I guess I can forgive you this time. Just don't do it again."

"Aaron!" Lola bellowed, finally gaining the strength to scream. "Aaron!"

Tate was tall, but she could see Aaron rounding the corner in the distance. His face fell when he saw the mysterious figure holding his sister back. His light pace picked up as he began a full on sprint in her direction.

"Hey!" He screamed. "Leave her alone!"

Tate craned his neck around to peer at Aaron. He let out a wicked cackle. Aaron was closer now, inches away. He started to collide with Tate. Tate evaporated into the air, sending Aaron hurdling into his sister. The two collapsed on the ground with a thud.

"Do you believe me now?" Lola breathed hard.

Aaron rolled over onto his back, "What was that?"

"Tate. He told me his name is Tate. That horrid notebook I showed you is his work of art."

"Holy shit. This is real," Aaron rushed, running a hand through his hair.

"This is real."

Before they could think a second about what had happened, Aaron jumped up, pulling Lola with him.

"We've got to find RJ and Josh."

Lola agreed. As horrid as her eldest two brothers had been acting, they were still her brothers. She wasn't going to let a psychopathic ghost harm them.

They bolted down the corridors. Aaron frantically messed with the radio, receiving only a static buzz. Lola pounded on doors, searching for anything. All she wanted as a sign.

And a sign she got.

A booming scream sliced the air. It was Josh.

"Come on!" Aaron yelled, pulling Lola in the direction of the noise.

A rusted over door stood between the two and their brothers. When they managed to get the door open, a deadly scene lay in front of them.

RJ was lying on the dirty tiled floor of what seemed to be a recreational pool and exercise area. He was barely conscious and bleeding from a nasty head wound. There were bars of gold surrounding his body, spilling out of a burlap knapsack. Hanging above what should have been an empty pool, but was now a swirling vat of blood and half decayed corpses, was Josh. A hook, wet with fresh blood, stuck out of his abdomen. He was still alive, having been strung up seconds ago. His dark eyes gave Lola and Aaron a look that told them to run as fast as they could. His lips moved apart slightly, gurgling out a glop of blood instead of words.

"I didn't want you to see me like this, Lola!" Tate exclaimed with an embarrassed laugh. His hand was still on the chain linked to Josh's body. "Oh well."

He let go of the chain. The metal quickly clinked, grinding as it release the heavy load. Josh's body hit the pool of blood with a sickening noise. It was engulfed by the blood's eager arms.

Lola couldn't contain herself. She let out a cry.

"You bastard! What is wrong with you?"

"Love is a crazy thing, huh?" Tate shrugged.

He took a few steps in the direction of Aaron and Lola. RJ, who was still hanging onto his mind, grabbed at Tate's ankle as a last ditch effort to stop him. Tate smiled as he swiftly kicked RJ's gut, sending him into a black coma.

"Don't come near us," Aaron warned, pushing Lola backwards a few steps.

"You should know not to get in between me and my love."

"You're crazy!" Lola exclaimed. "You're a sick, crazy monster!"

"That is the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," Tate grinned, putting a hand over his heart.

"What do you want?" Aaron questioned.

"Stupid question."

There was a rush as Tate powered forward with inhuman speed. He took Aaron off guard, blowing him backwards. They crashed against a wall. Aaron quickly recovered from the blow and buried his fists into Tate's stomach. Tate was not affected, however. He tossed Aaron onto the ground like a ragdoll. A cloud of dust surrounded the two. When it disappeared moments later, they were wrestling on the ground. Aaron was weak, but he was determined. No amount of determination could last long against the entity. Aaron fell limp. Tate quickly made sure the boy wouldn't wake for a while, rose and approached Lola.

Lola turned and ran. Tate appeared in front of her. She pivoted sharply, with the intention of going the opposite direction. She tripped over her boots, falling forward. She prepared herself for impact with the floor.

But Tate scooped her up. She struggled, thrashing against his rock-like body.

"What is with this cat and mouse game, sweetheart?" Tate growled against the flesh of her neck.

"Let me go!" Lola yelled.

Tate shushed her, "Never. This might sting a bit. I'm sorry."

She was on the verge of questioning him when she felt a prickling over her body. The corridor grew fuzzy. The world around them slipped away, briefly colored white, and then faded into another room. The stinging sensation reached its peak when the white surrounded them. It disappeared as the room cleared up.

"What-"

"Welcome to your new home," Tate chirped. He added, "You can stop fighting. I'm not going to hurt you."

Lola laughed at the absurdity of his words, "You killed one of my brothers, possibly killed the other two, and did God knows what to my dad and our boat. Do you think I'm going to just give up?"

"Ideally," Tate said from above her. "And ideally, I'd like you to be a good little girl while I'm gone. I know that isn't like you though, Lola. It's okay though. Just don't break too many things. They're antique."

With that, he disappeared. Lola was fighting the air. She stopped and let out a bone shaking scream. It wasn't laced with fear. It was laced with anger. A tornado named Tate just ripped her life apart.

She decided to look around at the area she was being kept captive in. She was in a bedroom. It was well lit and clean, unlike the other parts of the ship. If that's even where she was. A large circular bed was the focal point of the room. It was covered with a vibrant red blanket. There were nightstands on either side of the bed. An overstuffed chair was a few feet to the right of the bed, placed in front of an oak wardrobe. On the opposite side of the room was a wall of books. A coffee table sat in front of the shelves, displaying a curving piece of brown pottery. There was also an old rocking horse pushed to the corner of the room. There was only one door. It was open, and Lola knew it wasn't an exit. She peeked inside. It was a bathroom. A sparkling claw footed tub was wedged between two tall cabinets containing towels and other toiletries. On the opposite side of the tub was a toilet, a sink and a mirror.

Lola plopped to the ground with a lonely thud. She had no idea where she was. She was being held against her will by some sort of love-stricken psychopathic ghost. And she was completely alone.