Chapter 2Her Ghost Showers At Midnight

I’ve never been a brave guy. Put me in an empty house, and I won't even watch a horror movie.

But living it? It felt like every terrifying image I'd ever seen on a screen was suddenly downloading directly into my brain. The scream I wanted to let out was lodged like a stone in my throat.

I shifted onto my back, squeezing my eyes shut.

Breathe, Moore. Breathe.

I tried to rationalize it. I told myself that ghosts didn't exist, that this was either a bizarre plumbing issue, an elaborate prank, or the result of sleep deprivation and too much cheap whiskey.

It took ten agonizing minutes of mental gymnastics to convince myself I wasn't going to die. Whether it was a sudden surge of courage or just hitting the absolute ceiling of my fear, something inside me snapped.

I swung my legs out of bed and grabbed the heavy aluminum baseball bat I kept by the nightstand. My grip was tight enough to bruise.

Step by agonizing step, I moved toward my bedroom door.

The light under the crack was still pulsing. The water was still running.

I wrapped my sweaty fingers around the deadbolt, threw it back, yanked the door open, and stepped out, letting out a guttural roar.

"Who the hell is out here?!"