I didn't remember coming back here. The last thing I remembered was the second floor. How did I get here? My body remembered moving, but my brain had nothing.

What happened was…

Knock, knock.

"Elijah?" Mom's voice came through the door.

"The door's open.”

She pushed it in just enough to smile at me.

"You must've been tired. You were out for a while. Come downstairs. Dinner's ready."

"Alright. I'll be down in a second."

When we moved into this strange manor, I took the room on the top floor. Best view of the town. I liked things that pleased my eyes.

Mom took the ground floor. "Best lighting" she said. She was right.

"How was your day?" she asked as I sat at the table.

It should've been an easy question. But not tonight.

Was I supposed to say I was in danger? That would worry her. Worse - she'd try to help, and that would put her in danger too.

So I gave her the short version.

"It was fine at first. Then it got boring."

"What about your classmates? Anyone you'd like to be friends with?"

I thought of the faces from the bus. A few looked interesting. I hadn't spoken to any of them.

"I don't know yet. How was your day?"

Mom picked up on it. She let it go.

"Your sister will be coming back soon" she said instead.

"Okay." Pause. "Tell her I'm not leaving my room for her."

We talked a bit more. Then I went upstairs. On the way, I caught myself looking at the boarded entrance to the second floor.

Did I find anything? No.

Was I going back? Definitely not.

I'd go to the town library after school tomorrow. If I wanted answers about the Slime, I had to start there.

In bed, I tossed a tennis ball and caught it, staring at the ceiling. When did I leave the second floor? The last thing I remembered was the desk. Then I fell.

I got up, brushed my teeth. The hall was

cold. The doorknob was colder.

The bathroom was freezing. Why?

I finished up and headed back. My door was open. Just an inch.

I knew I'd closed it.

Fear caught in my throat. I froze, peering in.

Everything looked normal.

I exhaled. Maybe I was just paranoid.

I lay back down, rolling the ball between my fingers, drifting off.

"You're cute."

My eyes snapped open.

Panic hit. I didn't move. Didn't breathe.

"Don't be afraid. I'm harmless" the voice said, louder this time.

"Who are you?" My voice shook, but I kept it firm.

"I must say, your looks don't suit your tastes, your room isn't very pleasing," she went on, ignoring me.

I rolled off the bed and grabbed the lamp.

She kept talking.

"You should learn a thing or two from me. You've been to my room. Don't you think I have a good eye for decor?"

"Where are you? Show yourself."

"If I do, it wouldn't be much fun now, would it?."

I stood. My hands were steady now.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Farrah. Nice to meet you, Eli- sorry, can I call you Eli?"

How did she know my name? Was she always here?

I needed to keep her talking. Pinpoint her by sound. But there was no distance to her voice. She wasn't in the room.

She was in my head.

"You're thinking hard," she said, amused.

"But if I wanted to hurt you, wouldn't I have done it already?"

"Fair point" I said. I didn't put the lamp

down.

"Great. Now put the lamp down."

Hesitantly, I did.

"Eli, I need your help."

                                                           FARRAH

Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. No one found me. I screamed. I tried to leave my room. Nothing.

They couldn't see me. Couldn't hear me.

I cried for a while. Then I stopped.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

I remember the day. Midterms. Studying in my room. Everything normal. Then it wasn't.

I woke up to Mum crying on my bed.

Then Mum and Dad left. Left me here.

Alone.

It was cruel. I was a ghost, but I wasn't dead.

When they left, I decided I wouldn't. l'd find a way out. Break the curse.

Being invisible should've helped, right?

It didn't.

I was stuck. Every time I tried to leave the second floor, something pulled me back to my room.

Eventually I accepted it.

Then - voices. New ones. Someone moved in?

Hope, then disappointment. They couldn't see me. Couldn't hear me. I was still trapped.

Every day I listened. Footsteps.

Conversations.

That's how I learned about Elijah. The boy who moved in with his mum. He was going to PHS. My school.

I had hope again.

Ghosts in books could mess with lights, with energy. I was limited. Only the second floor. The floor no one used.

Until today.

Footsteps on the second floor.

I didn't wait. I filled the room with energy, pulled, and the door opened.

And there he was.

The most illogically human l'd ever seen. 

Blue eyes, dark like the sea at night. Hair cut short, falling across his forehead. Tall. Broad shoulders like hed stopped training a month ago.

"Impressive" he said, looking at my

schedule.

That was my chance. A dim light above his neck.

I remembered the books. Possession.

I lunged.

One second I was mist.

The next I was in. Behind his eyes.

Breathing with lungs that weren't mine.

"Wait. What."

I tried to speak. The voice that came out was his. Low. Rusty.

"Waaaait.. Whaaat."

Oh. Oh no.

That was him. I was wearing his voice.

I looked down. Flat chest. Broad. Shoulders everywhere.

I poked an arm. Solid. Heavy.

I wiggled his fingers. They moved.

I told his legs to stand. They did. Too fast.

The room tilted.

The floor was so far away.

I needed a mirror.

I crossed the room in strides that weren't mine. Finally reached the dresser.

The face in the mirror was the one I'd just been admiring. Sixteen. Unfairly handsome. Jaw like it was carved in anger. Dark lashes. 

And those eyes.

I leaned in. The mirror fogged with his

breath.

I had to go.

I guided his body out of the room. Past the boarded entrance. Down the stairs.

It worked. I didn't snap back.

I jumped. Clapped my hands.

"This is a boy's body;" I reminded myself.

My stomach growled. Loud.

Right. Food.

Ghosts don't eat. I remembered eating and felt sad about it.

I ran to the kitchen, nearly tripped, and raided the fridge. A cold sandwich. It tasted like heaven. I had two. Then three.

Full. Tired.

I found his room on the third floor. It used to be our art studio. Now it was boyish and plain.

I didn't care.

I collapsed into bed, still in his clothes, and slept.