I love Pennsylvania. Not too hot, not too cold; rural P.A. is beautiful and all my friends live close by. No one knows the routes of this town better than me. Even though I live in a small house and I have a small room, I’m happy. Now, as I grab my fishing pole, and tackle box, I sigh happily. My best friend, Morgan, calls me on my way out.

“Are we still on for fishing?” Morgan asks, uncharacteristically calm.
“Yeah, I’m headin’ out now. Meet me?”

“Sure.” I can practically hear Morgan smiling. I hang up and run to my bike. I rig my bike to hold the fishing gear and take off. I wave to people I know and smile at the few I don’t. When I get to the lake, Morgan’s already set up. Her dad probably brought her. We fish the rest of the day and I think to myself, Nothing can ruin this summer.

“Cassidy, stop whining! We let you bring Morgan to help you get settled! You don’t see your brother complaining, do you?” my mom says. I know she’s sick of my attitude, but I don’t care. She’s moving the family to Texas (Texas!) without a warning. At least the house is cool.

It’s huge and it was built in the late 1800s. I get dibs on any room I want, too. The white paint is flaking, revealing dark brown wood. I run up the (creaking) porch steps and fling open the door. Morgan grabs our bags and flings mine at my head. I grab it and run up the spiraling staircase. In my eagerness for the room I want, I forget my anger toward my parents.

  The room I choose has a tower entrance in one corner. It’s old and dirty, but I figure I could make it look amazing. A truck roars down the dirt driveway. I glance out a window so dirty it’s yellow. I set down my bag and a cloud of dust erupts. The moving truck pulls up and they unload the big brown boxes. After a coughing fit, I start toward the door. I stop when I realize Morgan hasn’t said anything in almost an hour.

“Okay, spill. What’s got you in a mood?” I turn around, arms crossed in front of my chest, with what I hope is a determined look on my face.

“You do know what this means right? Because I don’t think you do.” Morgan takes a shaky breath, but her tears come anyway. “I’ve known people who move and forget all about their old best friends.” Fat tears roll down her cheeks and meet at the tip of her chin. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I don’t dare let them fall. I can’t let this become some sappy thing that happens in movies. I always hated those scenes, and I know it’ll be worse if it happened to me.

“But we’re not like those people! Morgan, we’ve been best friends since pre-k how could I forget you after 8 years!?”

“I just don’t want this to be one of those, ‘I promise I’ll text/call/video chat with you every day’ and then we never do!” Morgan wipes furiously at her tears. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then smile.
“I swear that won’t happen. Now let’s make this room look beautiful!” Morgan laughs through her (slowing) tears and I take her hand.

It takes two hours to get all my stuff separated from Jimmie’s and get it all in my room. By then, I’m already sweating in the Texas heat and I lean against a wall for support. “Maybe we should take a break.” I tell Morgan. She looks me up and down. Morgan grabs her bag and pulls out two water bottles. She tosses one to me. I grab it and finish it.

Morgan grabs the soapy water for the floor, walls, and windows. I sigh. Maybe I should’ve brought a lazier friend. I grab a soaked rag and get to work. Three hours. That’s how long it took to wash every inch of my room and the tower room. After two more hours of hard work, my room is organized and looking better by the minute. I lay down on the love seat I got for my birthday.

My stomach aches and I realize we skipped lunch. Something screeches and I jump up. Morgan smiles over her book.

“What is that?” I ask Morgan. She takes off her reading glasses and points to a glass square in the wall. I walk over to it and laugh. It’s a dumbwaiter. On the tray is a note from my brother and his friend.
DO YOU WANT US TO SEND UP DINNER?

I scribble on the back a quick yes and reel it down using the rope. It makes that horrible screeching noise again and I cringe. When it reaches the bottom, I sigh and walk around to Morgan. She glares at me for interrupting her reading.

“Dinner’s coming up.” She nods and pulls two wooden chairs up to the wooden table that was already in the room. We eat dinner, change into our pajamas, and then walk over to my brother’s room.

“Hey, your room looks great!” I tell Jimmy.
“Thanks. What did you want?”
“I wanted to show you something in my room.” I leave with Morgan next to me. My older brother shrugs and, with his friend Jack, follows us. Morgan takes the lead and goes into the tower. I point to the claw marks in the floor, leading all the way across the room and stopping directly across from the door. I trace them with my nails and point out how they’re the same size my nails would make if I was being dragged across the room.
“What happened in here?” Jack asks. I shrug and gesture toward the beds.

“Go ahead, sit. That’s not all I wanted to tell you.” I walk over to my dresser and pull out the paper I found when I was cleaning. It says:
DON’T WORRY. NO ONE WILL EVER LOOK FOR HER HERE.
   -JB
I hand the paper to Jimmy and Jack. Morgan looks over their shoulders. They all gasp in unison when they finish reading it. I lean against the wall opposite of them. It shifts under my weight and I almost fall down the passage that appeared behind me.
I turn around and notice that the passageway starts where the claw marks ended. Jack stands and takes a flashlight out of his cargo shorts. I grab it from him and shine it at the floor inside the passage. Sure enough, there are claw marks. I move to start down the stone stairs when Jimmy grabs my arm.
“Cassidy, you can’t go down there!” Jimmy pulls me away and stares at me. I glance at Morgan and notice she’s chewing her always-perfect nails.
“I’m going, Jimmy. I need to see what’s down there!” I pull away and start down the stairs. Jack follows me, but Jimmy, I notice, stays with Morgan. The stone steps are steep and every few steps are a drip of red. Blood, I think to myself.
The stairs end and I feel a rush of cold air. I don’t really know why, but my head whips toward the center of the far wall. There, in a crumpled heap, is a woman.
Instantly I know her name (don’t ask me how), Veronica. I know she was FBI and she had just turned 29 when she died. I saw the face of the man who kidnapped her and killed her. I know where he lives.
My knees give out and I feel an intense pain in my abdomen. I cry out, but no one helps me. I feel Jack pick me up, but at the same time I know the only one with me is Jonathan, the killer. I hear a muffled “Oh, my God” but hear a sinister laugh louder.

The pain is intensified when Jonathan twists the knife in my gut. I scream and feel Jimmy and Morgan crowd my body. I know that there is no knife but at the same time I know that Jonathan stabbed me.

I see Jack’s face morph into a face I once trusted. Jonathan laughs over my body as I push against a wall. Black dots appear in front of my eyes and they start to bleed together. The last two things I hear are laughter and Jimmy, running for my dad.

I sit up, gasping for air. My hands fly to my stomach. No hole, no blood.  “She’s awake!” Morgan’s arms wrap around my neck. “What happened to you? I hear cries and then Jack comes running up with you in his arms. You had tears streaking down your face, but nothing seemed wrong. You acted scared of Jack when he laid you down.”

“Honestly, I think I was possessed.” I grimace at the memory of the two realities mashed together. Jack, Jimmy, my dad, my mom, and a cop come in. I close my eyes for a second and then I see Jonathan again. I know he’s not real, but I know he is, too.

“Miss, I’m with the local police department. Your friends reported a dead body. Did you see it?” the police officer says. I nod. I’m not looking at him, though. I’m staring at Jonathan. He closes the door and walks away. I go to the window and see him walk into a house. “Anything wrong, miss?” the police officer walks up next to me.
“No. Nothing.” I close my eyes. Then they shoot open and I start to speak. Only it’s not me. “He still lives there you know, Dean. He stares at this house every day, just waiting for someone to find me.” It’s Veronica’s voice. Dean blinks at me and backs away.

“Veronica?” he looks scared and I pity him. I nod.

“What’s going on?” my dad demands. I don’t know what to say. It doesn’t matter, I guess, because I can’t talk.
“Veronica was my best friend until she went missing. She was FBI. But she went missing five years ago.”

“Dean, I was killed. This girl,” I gesture toward myself, “found me. She knows who killed me.” Dean sobs. My dad mutters something about me. I see a face in the window across the street. Jonathan. I take off at a run and kick open the door with more strength than I’ve ever had. I grab Jonathan’s throat and push him out the door.
“Hey, hey! Let go of me!” I throw him to the ground and punch him in the face. I keep punching and punching. Soon, his face is covered in blood.

“Go away.” I whisper to Veronica. I nod and I feel cold air as Veronica leaves me. Now, I punch harder than Veronica did. “What’s wrong with you, you psychopath?” Strong arms wrap around my waist as Morgan pulls me away.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Veronica Sabina.” Dean reads Jonathan his Miranda rights and puts him in the back of the police cruiser. I feel tears of relief run down my face. Veronica’s death has been justified. I know I will never forget what happened to her.

We decided not to move from the house Veronica was murdered in. I wanted to keep the tower room so I could remember her. A few weeks later, school started and Morgan and Jack went back to P.A. I made a few friends and never forgot Morgan. We talk every day, just like I promised. Every Christmas, I go up there and every summer she comes down here.

It was hard getting people from my new school to sleep over at my house, because of the murder, but I talked them into it. Jonathan had a daughter at my school (in my class, to be specific) and we became close friends. Veronica visits sometimes in my dreams. She’s always smiling and happy near me. I love those dreams. See, sometimes life does have a happy ending.