Days later.
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"So what's the deal with your hair color?" Monica snapped Regan out of her thoughts. They were eating breakfast outside in the garden. She wasn't going to school that day. Monica told her to take a day off because she believed that Regan didn't look alright.
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And yes, she wasn't.
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"Huh?"
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"I was talking about your hair, it has so many red strands. Why don't you tell me you dyed it?" Monica asked confused. If Regan hadn't noticed her hair, then her aunt did. And it was strange.
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Regan's hair had gotten redder over the week. She had no explanation about it, just like there was no explanation about the weird things going around in her house.
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Vesper told her that it could have been from sun rays or some hair dye, but it didn't make sense. The red strands seemed to grow from the root of her hair. And it was noticeable. Others could tell that she had dyed her hair red, when she didn't.
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However, as mentioned before, she didn't really think a lot about it. Her mind was occupied only with the unsettling thoughts of the weirdness of her house and the unnerving man of her dreams.
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She wondered if he was real and if the unknown place with roses in her dream was so. Apart from curiosity, she didn't know why she wondered. She'd never like them to be real. But at the same time, he felt strangely familiar as if she had always known him.
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She had gotten even more paranoid and anxious and Monica had noticed it. But she didn't know what was going on. She didn't see anything wrong with their house.
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But Regan did.
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The mocking, taunting voice rang in her mind. She felt exposed even through the walls of her house. The furnitures behaved weirdly as well. The doors would slam shut on their own and lights would work their own on and off cycle, of course, when Monica wasn't around.
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As for these damn red roses that she had been terrified from, well, they didn't leave her alone. They kept her at company every morning, and it had been a taunt, a reminder that someone sneaked in her room. She had to tell someone, but she didn't want to worry her aunt.
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But right now, she was even more frustrated that her aunt didn't believe her hair changing color itself.
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"Aunt, I'm telling you, I didn't dye it. I have no idea what's going on."
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"But this needs to have an explanation, right? Just tell me dear, what's going on?" she said after letting out a long tired sigh. Monica had been trying to get Regan to say something. Even though she wouldn't believe what Regan said. It simply seemed illogical and ridiculous.
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Before, Regan could easily fool around pretending like she was okay and now, when she thought about it, she really was slightly better before. At least she didn't have ridiculous dreams with fire and a prepossessing guy, telling her that he wanted her soul. She also wouldn't hear voices and feel watched and followed.
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Either he was the source of the problem, or the house. Or these were both linked. Regan couldn't come up with a right assumption. But she knew he was rambling in her mind.
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She overtried to give something logical about it, but nothing made sense anymore. That way, she reasoned that this thing was entirely abnormal and supernatural.
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What's made her even madder inside was that her aunt didn't notice anything strange in their house. Monica never complained about the house and told Regan that she was the one who was exaggerating.
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"The neighborhood and the house are safe, so, no need to worry." That was all Monica would say.
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"Then we should ask a doctor about why your hair's color is changing," Monica said, standing up.
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"Doctor? No, why?!"
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It was the least thing she wanted now.
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"But you can't give a reason. You have searched on internet and there's not a any believable answer," Monica said.
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Regan put her elbows on the table, letting out a tired sigh.
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"It's decided. I'm setting up an appointment."
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"At least wait for two or three days," she said, giving her a pleading look.
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"Only two days, finish your plate," was the last thing that Monica said before going inside.
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Regan didn't want to go to the doctor because of that. There were so many other things to worry about.
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She looked at her plate filled with pancakes. She had even lost appetite. Pancakes were one of her favorite foods. She ate them fast and then got up from the chair.
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Monica wasn't in the house, she went to work so Regan was left home alone. Maybe she should've gone to school. Missing school wasn't a great idea, since her grades were on verge to go down. Also, she wasn't very fond of staying in the house.
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She was tired of being scared. But still there were more answers than questions. The more she stayed inside the house, the more she thought about it. She had minimized to stay in her room. After that night when she woke Vesper up, she stopped sleeping in her room.
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She thought she'd die from overthinking.
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Regan grabbed the dishes from the table, and went to wash them. Thoughts were consistent in her head. Not that she wanted to make them leave. These days, she figured out it wasn't worth to shove the thoughts away, neither pretending to do that.
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She didn't have a problem to pretend that was okay on the surface, but even inside, she lied to herself so many times. But now, she was determined and eager to uncover the mystery of the eerie feelings and happenings.
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While her aunt never believed in supernatural stuff, Regan found it fascinating and intriguing. Until now that she was seeing and hearing bizarre things with her own eyes and ears.
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At this point, she didn't even believe herself for what she had come in conclusion to.
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"Did I wait that much to move from the old apartment only to move to a haunted house?" she murmured to herself.
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"Yes, you did."
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"Shut up," she snapped aloud.
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But what could she do? She couldn't get anywhere with her thoughts. They were endless, unnerving and terrible. No one could understand and believe her torment.
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She looked at the dishes then, and they were surprisingly clean. She had lost track of time, washing them with her mind elsewhere. Swallowing her anxiety, she decided to go and clean up her room. Being scared only gave satisfaction to what was messing and tormenting. She had to come to her senses and stop being scared.
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Entering the room, she looked at the messy bed, dusty desk and dusty floor. Everything in the room was almost dirty and needed cleaning in depth.
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It was bewildering of how little time Regan had spent in the room, and how dirty it had gotten.
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She hadn't been the neatest person, but before she used to clean her room once a week.
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When she was cleaning her room, she noticed the desk slightly move. She sighed and shrugged it off. Yes, she knew her house was haunted.
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Moments later, the balcony's door was swinging for no reason. Regan cursed under her breath, trying to swallow the panic that was threatening her.
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She tried to ignore that was well. Then, the books on the shelves suddenly feel, making her groan in frustration.
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"It's even day, for God's sake. If the house is really haunted, shouldn't spooky stuff happen at night?" Regan said to herself.
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She thought for once to sit on the floor and cry her mind out; let out her frustration, torment, thrilling fears, but she changed plans. She refused to give it the satisfaction of seeing her broken and desperate state.
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The air inside the room felt heavy, and the temperature was getting hotter. She felt sweat in her forehead, but she didn't know if this was a ghostly effect. Ghosts would normally cool down the temperature.
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The books continued to fall, and she couldn't take it anymore. She threw the broom away and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut.
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She went to the kitchen. But she couldn't find peace there as well. The ceiling light started to swing itself, turning on and off.
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"Damnit, what the hell are you?" she muttered.
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"Why you never try to find it yourself, scarface?"
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She didn't want to show fear but soon, she didn't have to. Her blood boiled at the voice. She didn't have a lot to do about it but still wondered why these ghostly things never happened when Monica was in the house. It was as if it was meant to taunt her and only her.
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Suddenly, she heard the doorbell ringing. She cursed under her breath and went to open the door.
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It was Vesper.
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What was she doing at that time? Wasn't she at school?
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"Hey, Reg." Vesper tilted her head, a smirk on her face.
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"Hi," Regan said, trying to swallow her frustration, "weren't you at school?"
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Vesper shook her head, "No, I skipped. It was boring," she said as she walked past Regan. Regan wondered if the weird things would persist with Vesper being inside.
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"So, Reg," Vesper said as her friend walked in, "Do we have anything to do?"
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Regan shrugged. She didn't want to do anything. Vesper seemed bored to. It wasn't like Regan had seen her hang out with other friends. Although her friend seemed outgoing and sociable, it wasn't like she had any other friends.
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"Do you have anything cold? It's freaking hot here," Vesper remarked.
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"Do you want drinks or ice cream?" Regan asked her.
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"Hmm...ice cream," Vesper said after a long thought.
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"I only have vanilla," Regan replied, knowing that Vesper didn't like it.
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"Okay bring it," her friend said, not sparing any attention. She opened the TV and surfed through different channels.
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Regan walked to the kitchen and washed her hands. Then she opened the fridge, got the ice cream bowl, and threw it into two cups using a spoon.
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She walked to the living room and gave one to Vesper. When her friend took it, she looked at the ice cream with a sneer.
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"Are you kidding with me girl?" she shot her a look, "This thing is melted."
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When Regan saw at the ice cream, she was bewildered, even her own was defrosted. She could swear that it was just right moments ago, but couldn't explain this sudden weird thing.
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While she tried to explain, Vesper got up from the couch and went to the kitchen herself.
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If it were to be honest, Regan was also tired of her friend's complaints. She always had something to say; expressed disappointment even where there was no place for it.
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It looked like Vesper wanted everything perfect, but was she flawless in the first place?
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She went to the kitchen and saw Vesper, who had already gotten a new cup and was eating the ice cream, lounging on the couch. Regan looked at her and wondered if it would be right if she would tell Vesper about all her abnormal occurrences.
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Since the thrilling night that Regan knocked on Vesper's door and woke her up, little did they talk about these matters. Regan didn't want to bring it up, because she sounded delusional. Vesper, on the other hand, tried to avoid when the conversation came to supernatural matters. It seemed like they both were dodging the subject at all costs.
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But Regan didn't want to keep it inside anymore. It was draining her moment by moment. The longer she maintained her emotional fortress, the more she suffered, like a prisoner bound by invisible chains. It was impossible for her to release the pent-up emotions and find some form of solace. She felt like a prisoner of her own mind, she couldn't think about anything else other than him.
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"Regan, why are you looking like that? You want to talk about something?" Vesper asked when she noticed her.
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Regan was fidgeting with her fingers, her mind racing with thoughts. What would she want to talk about? So, so many things she wanted to tell. But she didn't want to seem delusional.
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"Vesper...do you feel...any weird presence around here?" she asked, chosing the words carefully.
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"No?" Vesper said with a shrug, "What kind of presence?"
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"Negative one...or most likely negative energy. It's like....it drains your energy. Some sort of dark aura. I don't know how to explain," Regan answered.
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Vesper's expression turned unreadable for a moment, and something uncertain flashed in her eyes. "No, I don't, but tell me what's going on? Why are you asking kinda questions?"
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"I don't know how to say it," Regan shook her head and walked back to the living room. She sank on the couch, hating herself for even begining to explain it.
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"You do, tell me what's bothering you so much?" Vesper said as she followed her, "Is it that haunted house thing?"
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"No."
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"Come on, tell me Regan, I'm your best friend. I am never going to judge you. I'll believe in everything you say. You know? I've experienced these things myself. Please, tell me, you don't have to keep it inside anymore," Vesper persisted with determination to get the words out of Regan's mouth.
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Her words kind of struck though. Regan was really willing to tell, hoping someone would understand her. She couldn't hold it much longer, but she also feared what Vesper would think.
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Her friend continued with a persuasive speech, which made Regan to not stand it anymore and to tell everything.
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She told her about the dreams, roses, feelings, voices, presences, house, literally everything that was eating and torturing her mind. She forgot to say small details, however, she explained the dream just like it was. Upon hearing Regan's rantings, Vesper's face got paler. She stayed stiffen as a rock and millions of thoughts ran through her mind. She wasn't hearing Regan anymore.
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Suddenly, she got up from her seat in confusion and rage. Regan watched her with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what she was thinking.
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"Do you have anything to say? Vesper?"
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Vesper sighed and ran her hand through her hair in response to her inner irritation.
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"Vesper?" Regan asked in uncertainty. The regret and fear of judgement washed all over her. The thought that Vesper was going to make fun of her and call her insane, made it even worse.
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"Regan..."
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"What?"
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"You know...I just remembered I have something important to do. I'll talk to you later. Don't worry, okay?" Vesper hurriedly said and abruptly stormed out of the house, leaving Regan with endless unanswered questions.
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