My question was answered by a creaky door opening from behind us and what sounded like above us.

“Too late,” I heard Luke mutter under his breath.

The lights went out. The room went into complete darkness. I shivered. The sound of footsteps descending wooden stairs squeaked out from behind.

“Please…” the word quietly leaked out of my lips.

My soft pleading was answered by the sounds of gut-wrenching screams from Luke which started just a handful of feet behind me. The steps went back up the stairs and I heard a door close again.

I let out a deep breath. I listened to Luke’s screams fade away. I held my eyes closed tight even though the room was still pitch black. I think I hoped that if I closed them long and hard enough that it would all go away.

Wishful thinking. I opened my eyes and still stared at the darkness.

I started to cry. I wiped the moisture which trickled out of my nose from the top of my lip and tried to suck it back up into my nasal cavity with a hard snort.

“Don’t cry,” a voice whispered from behind.

I jumped up in my chair. Probably got the whole thing a couple of feet off the ground I was so startled.

The chair hit the solid ground hard on the way down and I felt both of the back legs fracture to where my seat was now wobbly. I leaned back against them to test them. They hadn’t snapped yet, but I felt I could make that happen if I worked at them hard enough now.

“You remind me of her,” Susan whispered from behind me.

The lights came on. I squinted tight against the burn for a few seconds. I slowly opened my eyes and saw that a large mirror had been stuck up against the blank wall in front of me.

I looked back at myself with a dark wig stuck on my sandy blonde hair, a pale shade makeup and purple lip liner caked on my face a late-90s outfit of loose jeans and a jean jacket wrapped around my shoulders. I was pretty sure I recognized the jacket from Kirsten’s yearbook picture. The white makeup looked familiar. I looked like a Kirsten impersonator.

Susan stepped into the field of vision provided by the mirror. She walked up behind me and put her hands softly on my shoulders, looking like a hair stylist who is about to ask “how does it look?” after a haircut.