Chipped brown paint with white streaks down the middle that screamed old stared back at me from the backdoor that hung for dear life. The door leaned to the side, nearly off its hinges, cracked wide enough for anyone to enter. Scraps from inside from the brass knob scattered over the concrete step. Well, this was surely making me think twice about entering the lake house.

I lifted my phone and switched on the flashlight option. It shined through the backdoor leading to the inside of an old rusty kitchen. The stench of damp leaves along with the smell of mold infiltrated my nose when I walked further in, making me really wish it hadn't. Because now, I couldn't rid the unwanted smell from my mouth.

"Loftman, I can't see!" My body tensed as the surface of my phone almost hit the floor. If not for my quick reflexes I was sure it'd hit the wood with just enough impact to crack.

"Shh, Patty! Keep it down! There's a reason I have my volume on low. Yet your yelling is making my phone sound like a surround sound." I scowled.

Patty muttered a sorry as a pout found its way on her face. "But really, I can't see anything! It's dark and you have the camera facing the ceiling." I groaned, then sighed.

Our lives would have been ten times easier if she were here physically. But according to her parents, studies call. She studied during the school year, and even during the summer. It baffled me to no extent. Her AP classes required assignments to be done over the summer break too. We assumed this was the universe's way of telling her she was never going to catch a break.

"Okay, I'll make sure you can see. But could you please keep it down? You're going to make it obvious that I'm here." She sent me a sheepish smile and nodded.

Bad enough, my clothes were stained with the smell of musk from fighting my way through the trees in the woods. I didn't want to have to run through the trees this time to escape, earning myself a stronger smell. I wouldn't have snuck through the trees in the first place if it weren't the only way to avoid the front of the lake house.

Being that this crime scene could possibly remain closed-off anywhere between one to seventy-two-hours, according to Christian, I wasn't sure if the police cars were still occupying the open end of the lake. But it wasn't a risk I was willing to take. After all, Christian wouldn't be there to save my ass. I made sure to wrap plastic around my shoes so as not to contaminate the crime scene. There needed to be no traces of me here. That was the goal.

Ever since I grew comfortable enough to share my gift with Christian, I surprised myself more and more everyday. What I once tried to avoid; I was now actively seeking. Of course, Mr. Jefferson played a major part in this role. Even then, it still amazed me.

Don't be afraid. I made that mistake once and it cost me. If you're afraid of the gift, you'll never find out what it truly means. You need to use it to your advantage.

Those were the words he told me when I first started confiding in him for advice. It was just a few months ago but I remembered it like it was yesterday. It had been the first week of our discussions. I had finally conjured up the courage to go talk to him.

He was standing in the diner, just like the first time I'd met him, tuning the radio to his satisfaction—his eyes focused, and mouth parted slightly. It was evident he was in the zone. He didn't seem the slightest bit surprised when I approached him. He only smiled and said take a seat, as if my presence was to be expected. Ever since then, he'd been helping me all the time.

"Earth to Tyler. Are you there?" The ringing of Patty's voice brought me out of my trance. I glanced down at the phone screen to which Patty's face was hovering over.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I'm here. I was just thinking. If you see something I don't, let me know." I used my phone's light to guide me around the wooden floors. Each eerie creak shot a chill through my body. The fact that I was moving slowly to be cautious made it worse.

From the kitchen to the slender dark hallway leading to an open room—possibly a foyer—I felt clustered. There wasn't much space to do anything except walk a narrow line.

"So far, all I see is rust, dirt, and a torn carpet," Patty said.

"This lake house has been sitting here for God knows how long. I'm surprised it's still holding up in its state," I said. She nodded in agreement.

There was another long eerie squeak from beneath my feet. I tensed and swore to myself. Nothing in particular interested me. As Patty said, the further we entered, the dirtier the place seemed. No wonder half of the town thought this place was haunted.

"Maybe I could use this lake house for my project on the history of Lake Bellinor," Patty teased.

"Good luck with that. I doubt this house was anything important in its time. It was probably just an old house people moved in and out of over the years. But if you find something interesting, let me know. Maybe it's survived through wars or something." I chuckled.

The idea didn't come off as a stretch. I was sure plenty of things in this town were old enough to be attached to an event off the historical timeline. It wasn't impossible. I prepared to comment again until I noticed I was officially in front of the entrance to the living room.

To the left of the living room was an old set of stairs that curved to the right. Carpet with a middle area stained in crimson red laid-out on the wooden floors. I assumed it was the blood of the victims. Each spot marked where they were found.

I took a step forward ignoring the creaking under my shoes.

Between the creaks and trying to avoid the sun beaming through the window, I didn't know which was more annoying. I'd rather stay a silhouette in the dark than get caught by the cops. The dried blood on the carpet stirred up a heavy smell of pneumonia. It was so strong I had to cover my nose with my shirt from the stench. That's not what bothered me the most though. 

Above the bottom of the staircase, sat a large opening in the ceiling. I shuffled to the side and stared at the hole for what felt like an eternity. What the hell? How did that hole get there?

"That is disgusting. It almost makes me thankful I'm not there," Patty said. I rolled my eyes and pressed the fabric of my shirt harder against my face.

"Yeah, I know," I agreed.

"Just be glad you're not standing below this." I waved my phone to the hole. I heard a gasp from the other end.

"Jesus," she said. I hummed and kept moving.

There were small cracks all over the ceiling. Any small motion from upstairs would cause plaster to drop from above. It made my heart race. The house was so old, the ceiling could possibly come down at any time. I didn't want to be present for that. If the ceiling were to collapse, the whole house would combust. I would no longer be a trespasser but a dead body.

"What are you looking for exactly?" Patty asked.

"There was a small object shining in one of the pictures Christian had. I think it's a piece of metal, but I don't know. And I won't know until I find it, if it's even here—shit!" I jolted back.

A piece of plaster hit the floor with a small thud causing my neck to crank up instantly. I furrowed my eyebrows in concern, examining the ceiling. There was nothing out of the ordinary. At least that's what I'd been repeating in my head. Truth be told, I had no idea what was supposed to be ordinary in this house. But that plaster fell out of nowhere.

"Tyler, what's wrong!?" 

"N-nothing. This place is just giving me the creeps. And my footsteps keep echoing."

At least, I hoped those were my footsteps echoing. I didn't like the sounds creeping up on me from the background. And I'd be damned if I was forcing myself to go upstairs. Even in the daylight, the house was far too dark for my taste, especially from the upstairs area. It was damn near impossible to spot a shadow up there.

"Alright, just hurry up so you can leave," Patty murmured. I nodded my head and took another step closer to the dried blood. How Christian managed to deal with this was beyond me. All I cared about was getting the hell out of here.

"Do you see anything like the object you saw in the picture?"

"No, not yet. All I see is dried blood." I sighed. "Listen, I'll call you back when I get home. I'm going to snoop around and take some pictures on my phone."

"Okay. Stay safe!" she chirped.

"Don't I always?" I snorted. 

Patty shot me a glare but rolled her eyes. "Tyler, you know what I—"

"Later Patty!" I grinned and clicked the call off.

Just then, a draft passed through the living room causing my shoulders to flinch. I rolled them back and glanced around. Then, I proceeded to take a deep breath to soothe myself. The noises were feeding into my paranoia. Not to mention the random draft. That wasn't helpful at all. Because the house was so close to the lake, I'd let it pass.

"Alright, body one was here. . ." I stepped over the first blood stain. "Body two was there and body three was right here. . ." I crossed over the other two blood stains.

It would've been easier if I brought the pictures with me. For now, I could only rely on my memory as I recreated the crime scene exactly how it was found. Body two was the woman. She was found lying in between the other two men. Whether they were all killed here or somewhere else hadn't been confirmed yet, so I'd hold onto my theories while I continued to speculate. 

"Ah, shit!" The flash from my camera blinded my eyes. I blinked rapidly in an attempt to gain control over my eyesight again. When there was no more white in my eyes, I took notice of my face on my screen reflecting back at me. Of course, I hadn't realized my camera was on selfie mode before I snapped a photo.

I mentally face palmed at myself before switching the camera mode. Click after click, I took as many photos as I could. There wasn't much to photograph but who knows? Maybe it'd help me find something sooner than later.

When I was finished with the left side of the living room, I maneuvered my way towards the right side where there was less of a mess. Bending down on one knee, I merely touched the surface of the carpet with the tips of my fingers. If anything, it was just a light brush that let me feel the carpet's material against my skin. That didn't excuse the powdery texture on my fingers. I rubbed my fingers together, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What the hell is this?" I murmured.

Now that I got a closer look, it was obvious that whatever the powder was, didn't come from the carpet. It must've been dropped onto it. Could it have been plaster from the ceiling? I thought so at first until I took sight of the light yellow color of the powder.

The plaster in this lake house wasn't anywhere near yellow. It was a white as white could get. Another dead end to my questions. Honestly, I was a bit scared to get closer to it. This was a foreign substance on my hand that could have been anything for all I knew. Maybe acid. Possibly even a toxic chemical harmful to the body.

Quickly, I leaned forward, taking a sniff. Then, I leaned forward again, taking another sniff.

"Sulfur powder?" I knew that smell anywhere. It was the same smell that lingered from the neighbor's garden whenever they planted something new. It always seeped through Junior's bedroom window. And since Junior's room was right next to mine, with his door open for most of the day, it seeped into my bedroom too sometimes. I hated that smell.

I stared, baffled.

Why the heck was there sulfur powder laying on the floor? The closest thing to plants in this area was the open forest in the back. And if you counted the few trees in the front, near the lake. But who would even think about using sulfur powder on those?

I reached down to touch the carpet again; this time, triggering something. Three loud screams rang through my ears. I paused, searching around frantically. There was a woman—blonde shirley temple curls dangling from her head, black onyx eyes, and a panicked expression on her face. I instantly recognized her. She was the victim in the picture.

"P-please. . . Please," she begged, sobbing.

Her sobs went ignored as a black boot stepped into my vision. The woman backed away, holding her hands out in front of her. She cried and begged and pleaded some more, but nothing stopped the figure from coming closer. Eventually, her back hit the wall. She crouched on her side, hugging her knees to her chest, unable to move.

An ear-numbing shriek churned my insides out followed by a brutal strike to her kneecap. My body shook; the strike was so hard, I could feel a nerve pulsing in my knee. The weapon in use seemed to be some sort of hammer. I couldn't tell. But it hurt like a bitch. That would explain some of the bruises on her body.

"W-why are you . . . doing this!?" she screamed. She was clearly in pain seeing as her voice was muffled under her cries. She was in so much pain, she didn't realize the coin rolling out of her pocket. I watched the bronze coin roll to the corner where it stopped flat on its back.

At first glance, I could tell that the coin didn't belong in the U.S. by its structure and design. It looked like a Canadian coin or as if it were from somewhere in the UK. At least, I knew she was alive beforehand. So, that counted for something. Before anything else could happen, I was greeted by a blank wall again and the sulfur powder on my fingers.

There must have been a wild goose chase here because that wasn't the spot where she was found dead. But it was the spot where I saw the glint in the picture. The only thing was, it wasn't there anymore. The coin was gone. Maybe Christian's team picked it up after all.

I took a picture of the powder on my fingers and the empty spot on the carpet where the coin was for safekeeping anyway.

I saw white sprinkling from the ceiling in the corner of my eyes. The plaster again? This time, it wasn't just dropping from the cracks, but another spot above me. I turned off my flashlight, slipping my phone into my pocket, and slowly backing away. My eyes never left the ceiling until I retreated into the hallway, then the kitchen, then out of the backdoor I came.

There was a feeling deep in my belly that I couldn't shake. A feeling that told me there was another presence in the lake house with me and it crept me out to no extent. Visions were one thing. Spirits were another. I'd had enough of being creeped out in this place for one day. The plaster falling on its own was my cue to go home and stay inside.