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My aunt was a renowned medium, and her daughter, my cousin Sarah, followed in her footsteps, gaining some fame.
I called Sarah, asking her to bring tools to catch the ghost.
She arrived in twenty minutes, visibly shaken.
I offered her water and a seat.
She refused, grabbing my hand.
"Laura, brace yourself."
Her hands trembled, her face pale.
"James has been dead over a month! He fell off a cliff—his organs were shredded by branches when they found him!"
"You're bewitched, forgetting it all."
"He's back to take you with him! Run before he returns!"
I froze, vague bloody images flashing in my mind.
Sarah saw that I was in a daze and started dragging me towards the door.
But the peephole twitched—an eyeball flickered. The door clicked open.
James stood there, staring coldly."Honey, where are you going?"
I stiffened, looking up.
The light split the doorway into two worlds. James stood in shadow, blood dripping from the bag in his hand.
Sarah, terrified, whispered," Don't let him know you know he's a ghost, or he'll go crazy. Act normal—stall him."
I nodded, lips quivering, and approached James stiffly.
"You were gone so long, I wanted to check on you."
His expression softened."I was buying groceries."
He pointed to the dripping bag."You loved the wontons, so I got more pork and scallions."
Unsure how to react, I took the meat under his gaze, reluctantly heading to the kitchen.
During our October vacation, we did visit a cliff.
James's coworker, Mike, posted about taking his family to a resort, earning praise as a" good man." Jealous, James kicked me, demanding I pack for a trip so he could show off too.
We took a train to Pine Ridge, a hundred miles away.
But James didn't want to pay the $10 entry fee. He just wanted to take some photos to brag about. So he led me down an unmarked trail to sneak into the park from behind.
The path was overgrown, crawling with ants and snakes. I was so tired from following him that I finally collapsed.
He got angry and climbed on alone.
I fell asleep under a tree.
When I woke up, James seemed like a different person.
Later, locals said the trail led to a cliff—no way to reach the park.
Did James die then?
Did his ghost change my memories?
Living with a ghost, eating its food, made me feel really scared.
How could Sarah and I escape?
James came into the kitchen.
Panicked, I turned on the faucet, rinsing the meat. Blood swirled down the drain.
The pork was pink, firm, clearly fresh.
James stood behind me, silently grabbing the cleaver.
I jumped back.
He barely reacted, calmly taking the pork and tossing it onto the counter. The living room was silent—no sign of Sarah.
Did he...
My throat went dry."James..."
He slammed the cleaver down and turned to stare at me.
Cold dread shot through me, my legs shaking.
"What…what did you do to Sarah?"
