I’ve been thinking. When I was a child I was always afraid of the monster under my bed, the bully down the lane, and everything else. I look around my lifeless, cold, condo and sigh. I cant hide here forever. The phone hasnt rung in a long time. I dont even need this mobile, I think looking down at the foreign device in my palm. I clench it tight. I have no friends or family. No one to shelter me anymore. Rain still drips off my coat onto the smooth, marble floor. I dont see why they should come after me. Oh right, my father’s gambling debt. Lipstick, tissue, a pen, and a glinting butterfly knife rest uneasily next to my purse. I sigh. I’ve thought alot in the past hour since the funeral. I walked along the grave sites and remembered somthing my father told me one hallow’s eve. “Dont worry, Sara. You’r a ghost. Everyone is terribly frightened of ghosts.” Thats its. If you dont want to be scared you have to be frightening. If you dont want to be hurt, somtimes you have to hurt people. I know what I have to do.

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