A harsh tingle shoots from my ears down my spine. I remove the earbud and stick in my pinkie to rub away the pain. Or the wax that's been building up, if I'm being real.

Ugh.

Whoever made this playlist thinks they're sooo funny for adding jump scares ten times louder than the music. Put in ad breaks too while you're at it, why don't you.

Refusing to give up on my life's soundtrack, I shove the earbud back in.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Seriously? More noise? Is this a test to see who actually sticks around until the end of these compilations?

«Can y— hear m—?»

When did I start listening to "video game tracks to shit your pants to"!?

That voice isn't from a game I recognize, and I don't particularly care to know. I try to pause the playback only to find that the screen froze. Thanks, planned obsolescence. That's a new low even for—

«He—o? Plea—, I n—d y— help!»

"I need your help"?

Drowning in radio static, the words come out choppy. If there's any truth at all to the vlogs, this must be the so-called ghost.

"Hellooo...?"

There's a gasp on the other end. «You heard me!»

The woman's voice is strained, yet her tone is soothing. As though my response had stabilized the connection, every word now stands out from the buzzing noise.

"Yeah, I heard you. Whoever you are."

«Who... am I? My name is... Róisín.»

Ro-sheen?

«I'm... not sure how to explain who I am myself.»

I stare at my phone that is still unresponsive to my taps. Warning icons now flash bright red in the status bar to declare the lack of any signal at all, urging me to reconnect immediately.

How is she—?

"You said you needed help?"

Maybe the real question is how my mouth is so much faster than my brain.

«Don't worry about me.» Róisín coughs. Her confidence in that response only makes me worry about her more. «It's... my son. He's trapped.»

Trapped.

Here.

Inside the place that was abandoned over three decades ago. The place she has presumably been "haunting" for at least one of those decades.

I'm not opposed to doing her a favour if it means putting an end to the spooks that keep people away, but I do need to ask, "And you're positive he's alive?"

«Ah, my darlin' boy is a doll. A handsome one as well.»

She's saying there are hot single dolls in my area.

I need a moment to process that.

Okay, I'm done.

"All right, sure, I'll save the princess."

Anyone in their right mind would deem this an elaborate prank. Lucky for her, I've had too many concussions for there to be anything right in my mind.

Róisín heaves a sigh of relief. «I don't know how to thank you, Lulu.»

Being addressed by name has always felt alienating to me. I may not have told her what it is, but I can guess where she got it from.

"Just tell me, are you chilling out in my phone or what?"

«Your...? Oh, yes, those yokes you all carry around.»

She's hijacking phones while barely knowing what they're called!?

"But how are you—"

«Please, Lulu. We don't have much time.»

The battery is draining fast in front of my eyes. There's our time limit.

"Fair enough," I say dryly. "Where do I go to find your baby boy, captain?"

«The cardiology ward.»

I point my phone's flashlight at a barely legible sign on the wall.

"Floor seven? On it."

«Thank you, Lulu.»

The path leading deeper inside the hospital is blocked off by two wooden shelves, likely deliberately knocked over. I shove the top shelf off the other and climb over, groaning.

«Are you all right?»

"It's no big deal. I made out with some concrete earlier is all."

«Ah, you shouldn't exert yourself so.»

The urge to roll my eyes is impossible to resist. I've been given advice like that more times than I can count.

"Were you a doctor here?" I ask as I brush cobwebs out of the way, adopting a shoulder spider in the process.

«Something like that. My son will be happy to treat your wounds.»

"The doll is something-like-a-doctor too?"

«He's one of the best.»

Not where I thought healthcare was going, but here we are. Either that doll of hers is full of surprises, or that head of hers is full of delusions.

Every door in the hallway is wide open and displays the exact same image of destruction. Some people do unhinged things for views online, but I doubt that they're the ones who went this far.

"What happened here?" I ask.

«Goldenrod happened. I saw you're not a big fan yourself.»

"Understatement of the century."

I'd have a stronger reaction to her knowing that, but if she's in my phone, then nothing qualifies as a surprise.

«They mustn't... find my son,» Róisín breathes, her voice slipping into a hazy trance. «If they take him, as well... Please, set him free. For his sake and yours.»

Take him 'as well'?

Free him for my sake, too?

In her panicked state, I can't get a single answer out of her. Calming her down is the best I've got. "I will. That was the plan, remember?"

«Thank you. Words... cannot express how grateful I am... that you're the one who came here tonight.»

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I scratch the back of my head. "It's nothing. Save the mushy stuff for your reunion."

Seconds feel like an eternity passing by in an instant. Muddy remains crumble underneath my feet.

I shouldn't have said that.

If a reunion was in the cards, Róisín would've come here herself. Realizing that, I can't speak, I can't move. My face is warm, the air is damp, the spider is crawling down my arm. It's too much, too fast—

«Let's keep moving so.»

They say that even if you can't see the person you're talking to, you can hear their smile. This is the first time I get it.

"Okay."