As I laid in my bed, all I could think about were the fingers that I'd felt in my hair. I know I hadn't imagined it. If my house was haunted, who was haunting it and why? Could they hurt me? If I could feel them touch me, what else could they do to me? My mind began to spiral out of control. When my phone rang, it almost made my heart explode.

"Dang it," I complained as I leaned over to where it sat on my nightstand. It was almost midnight, so I wondered who'd be calling me so late, even though I had a feeling that I already knew.

Since he'd called me repeatedly yesterday, I'd kept my phone off until I laid down to go to bed, only turning it on in the event that I had to make a quick call. When I finally turned it back on, I deleted the rest of the texts and the voice-mail that he'd left, not bothering to read or listen to them. Why did he all of a sudden want to talk to me? Did seeing me at the restaurant really get to him that bad? I hope it did… even more than it got to me.

All of a sudden, my door flew open—the same door that had been shut and locked just a second ago. I answered my phone, mainly out of sheer terror, wanting someone to be in my room with me, even if it was just through my phone.

"Jacynda? Are you okay?"

I'm sure he could tell that something was wrong by the way I was breathing, which was hard and panicked. "No, not really," I admitted as I scooted up my bed, trying to get away from whatever had just opened my door. I wished I hadn't answered my phone, not wanting to tell him what was going on in my house; not wanting him to think I'd completely lost my mind. Or worse, think that I wanted him here with me, even though I really did. I would take the company of a stranger right now if it meant that I wasn't alone in this house. 

"Um, I've got to go."

"No, please. I finally got you on the phone, please don't hang up."

My door slowly shut back by itself. My door… just shut… by itself. I started to cry, mainly out of fear of what was going to happen next. Different movies started playing in my mind and I had a feeling that I was fixing to be dragged off of my bed or thrown across the room. The air had become so thick and heavy that it almost choked me. I needed air. I needed air now.

I wasn't going to wait around to see what happened next. I dropped my phone onto my bed and ran for the door, praying that it would open, since they usually didn't in the movies. When it did, I threw it open and ran toward my back door, fumbling with the lock before it finally gave in and opened. As I ran out onto the patio, I gasped like I had been under water and was finally able to breathe again. What the hell just happened? What is in my house?

I sat down on the top step and laid my head in my hands and cried. Why was it that every time my life was finally on the right track that my train decided to derail? Why, out of all of the houses I could've picked, did I have to pick this one? Why was I sitting here on my patio after midnight when I had to be at work at seven in the morning?

I tried to get mad instead of being afraid, but every time I got up to go back into the house, I couldn't bring myself to open the door. I knew that I had to get some sleep or I'd never wake up in the morning. As I walked around the house, I was glad that I'd worn a gown to bed. I was also glad that it was warm as I opened my car door and crawled into the back seat, hoping that the sun would wake me and that I wouldn't oversleep.

How pathetic is it that I'm sleeping in my car, afraid to go back into my own home? Pretty pathetic, if I say so myself.

***

I hoped none of the neighbors saw me as I crawled out of the back seat of my car and snuck back around my house. The sun wasn't fully up, so maybe neither were they. As I walked up the patio, I was still afraid to open the door, but I knew I had to; I couldn't go to work in my gown.

As I quietly opened it and stepped inside, the air felt different; I could breathe again. I quietly walked down my hall and stopped outside my bedroom door, which was shut again. The thought of what might be waiting for me on the other side made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I took a deep breath and flung it open, standing there and looking into my empty room for a few seconds before I reluctantly walked in.

Contrary to what I'd imagined I'd find, my room looked the same way that I'd left it. My sheets were flung back, just how I'd left them when I'd fled, and my phone still laid where I'd dropped it. I wonder what Billy had thought about my sudden departure, leaving him hanging on the line. I almost laughed at the thought, now that it was daylight and I wasn't as afraid.

I picked up my phone and wasn't surprised to see several texts and voice-mail notifications, all from Billy. For the first time since we'd broken up, I read them.

Are you ok? … I’m worried about you. Answer your phone … Don’t’ ignore me Jacynda. Are you ok? … Please just let me know you’re ok … I promise I'll leave you alone just let me know you’re ok.

After reading his texts, I didn't want to listen to his voice-mail, so I deleted it. I'm sure it would just be more of the same, anyway. And who cares? Not me. If he cared, he should’ve worried about me before he slept with some other girl in our bed. He should've cared then, not now.

When I finally found my keys, which had somehow ended up on the floor on the other side of the kitchen, I left for work, hoping traffic wasn't bad so I wouldn't be late. I talked on the phone to Eric all the way there, telling him about the eventful night I had. He seemed a lot more interested than Kim did, but then again, it was Eric I was talking to.

"Girl, what are you going to do? Are you going to move?" he asked in his usual animated voice.

"I can't move. Not again. And I love my house." I thought about the terrifying night I'd had. "Well, I did love it."

We talked about my house and the upcoming day in the salon as I pulled into the parking lot. He assured me that we'd figure something out, and knowing him, I'm sure we would. Or at least I hoped we would. The thought of what tonight might bring frightened me all over again.

"Okay, I'm here," I told him as I pulled into our parking lot. "I'll see you in a bit."

We hung up and I gathered my things, ready to occupy my mind with work. I loved my job. I truly understood what people meant when they said if you love your job you'll never have to work another day in your life. That's how I felt about the salon. I never dreaded coming in, and to be quite honest, I usually looked forward to it. Since I was the manager, I could pick and choose what clients I wanted and had set myself up with only the best; they were friends, not just clients. It was like I was getting paid to laugh and chat with friends, all the while making them look and feel good about themselves. It was a win-win situation.

I was smiling when I got out of my car, trying to let my thankful mood replace the bad one I had to suffer with through the night; but as soon as I shut my car door and turned around, my smile quickly faded.

"Well, I'm glad to see you, too," Billy said. "You had me worried sick and then you show up here all smiles. What happened to you last night?"

I stood there, speechless. Not just because he had no right to be standing here almost yelling at me, but because he actually was standing here almost yelling at me. This was the first time I'd been this close to him since we'd broken up. Even when he came to beg for forgiveness, I'd kept a door between us. Now here he stood, smelling so good, with his blue eyes staring down at me from underneath his dark hair that I wanted to reach up and push back out of his face.

Snap out of it, Jacynda! I commanded myself. I hated the fact that he still had this kind of effect on me, even after what he did.

"Well?" he asked again.

"You never should've called me," I snapped as I locked my car and headed toward the salon.

He followed me, grabbing my arm before I got to the door. "There was obviously something wrong. You answered the phone crying and then just… nothing. It's like you just dropped the phone. I was worried sick but every time I tried to call you back it just went to voice-mail. And I don't know where you live now, so I couldn't check on you." He reached up and brushed my cheek with the back of his finger, which I quickly pulled away from like his touch had burnt me—mentally, it did. "I've been worried sick, Jacy."

"Don't call me that. As a matter of fact, don't call me at all. Don't text me. Don't come to my work. Don't look at me if you see me out. Don't order me drinks." I turned to go into the salon, stopping and looking back at my past one last time. "And don't worry about me. That's not your job anymore." I walked into the salon and shut the door, glad that he didn't follow me in.

When Eric got to work, I told him what had happened. "I wish I'd have pulled up while he was here," he said as he shook his head.

I laughed. "What would you have done, Eric, tucked his shirt in? Gave him styling tips? I've got more muscles in one arm than you've got in your whole body," I teased. "I'm sure you can barely beat yourself," I added, making him laugh with me.

"You're right. But I'd have cheered you on. I am a good cheerleader," he said, shaking his invisible pom-poms.

I put my arm around his neck as we headed out to the salon floor. "I agree. You're the best cheerleader ever."

***

The day went by quickly, which most people would be ecstatic about, except those people who knew that they had to go home to a haunted house. The thought of going back there made me slightly nauseous. I talked Eric into going to eat dinner with me, prolonging the inevitable. We called Kim and made her go, too. After telling her about what happened last night, she seemed more sympathetic to my situation. 

"Why didn't you call me? You could've come and stayed at my house. Mom wasn't home this weekend, so you could've slept in her bed."

She made me miss my own mom. It had always just been me and her since my dad had deserted us when I was young. And when she decided to move to Florida, she said that if I didn't come with her that I didn't need to bother visiting her, either. How could a mother do that to her daughter? I was working at the salon and had friends here. I had also just started dating Billy, so of course I wasn't going to pick up everything and move to Florida and have to start all over.

She left me, never looking back, and I hadn't heard from her since. That's when Billy and I moved in together. I tried calling her shortly after she moved, but her phone had been cut off—or she changed her number, which wouldn’t surprise me. I always thought something was off about Mom, which only got worse when Dad left. Maybe she needed to be taking medicine, but since she never went to the doctor we’d never know. And I'm sure she felt like I'd deserted her just like Dad did, but it was her that left, not me.

"When my door shut all by itself, I dropped my phone and ran out, leaving Billy hanging."

"Billy?" Eric quizzed me, raising one eyebrow. "What were you doing talking to him? Oh, that's why he showed up at the salon. Now, I see. You left that little detail out."

"What are y'all talking about?" Kim asked.

I told them about him calling me repeatedly since we saw him at Wild Wings and that I'd just ignored him, but the fact that I was scared to death made me more inclined to answer my phone. "Don't worry. I'm not talking to him. I know better than to go down that road again."

Before I knew it, we were finished eating and nothing had been figured out. Eric lived with his friend, so I couldn't stay with him. Kim's mom was a bit crazy and wouldn't let anyone stay at her house. Kim was lucky she was even allowed to live there. And of course, neither one would stay with me and my ghostly inhabitants.

"Fine. I'm going to take a sleeping pill and drink a couple glasses of wine, and then I won't care what happens," I said, hoping it would be that easy.

We said our goodbyes and I headed home, stopping at the pharmacy to get some type of pill that would knock me out. To my surprise, they also sold wine. This was my lucky day… sort of.

I went ahead and took one of the pills, hoping it would kick in as soon as I got home. If not, I'm sure the wine would give it a nudge. Sure enough, after I got ready for bed and drank my second glass of wine, I was out. I'd left the lamp on by my bed and pushed the trunk that was at the foot of my bed up against the shut and locked door. If they wanted to open it, they'd have to move the trunk first, and I hoped that they weren't strong enough to do that.

When my alarm clock went off the next morning, I felt like someone had run over me with one of those asphalt rollers. I'd have to cut back on the wine tomorrow night, especially cheap drugstore wine. I looked over at my door, which was still shut, and was glad to see that my trunk was still pushed up against it. My light was still on and everything else looked like it was in the same place I'd left it. I tried to tell myself that maybe it really was just my imagination or that the house just had some imperfections that I'd have to get used to, such as doors that swung freely of their own accord. But even so, it still left me feeling unsettled. Deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.

I rolled over onto my back and stretched, noticing that I felt really sore. Since it had been a while since I'd worked out, I assumed that moving furniture was finally catching up to me… until I got up and looked in the mirror.

As I walked into the bathroom, I noticed three huge scratch marks across my face. Maybe I'd done it myself in my sleep, which was unlikely, but the easier excuse to accept. I was so out of it, I'd never have felt it, anyway. I walked over to use the bathroom and saw that I had bruises trailing up and down both thighs.

"What the…?"

I pulled my gown off, going into my room so I could look at myself in the full-size mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. I was shocked. I had bruises scattered randomly all over my body. It looked like I'd been in some kind of accident.

I was glad that I'd slept through whatever had happened last night. But if whatever was here could do this to me, what else could it do? 

I was scared, too scared to take a shower, so I skipped it and got ready, grabbing some extra clothes so I could shower later… somewhere besides here.

I looked back at the house as I backed down the driveway and saw my bedroom curtains move like someone had been looking out the window at me. My anger flared as I put my car in drive and sped away, cursing under my breath. I had been through too much to let a house beat me down.

"You will not win," I yelled into my rear-view mirror at the house that was fading into the distance. "You will not win."