Sinister

Her lips cracked when she smiled. Her blonde hair was matted with dirt and tangled, and there were streaks of mud on her cheeks. Just like it had been that night.

"What are you—"

"Scott found me," she answered, before I could finish. "He told me what you did, Charlotte."

That wasn't possible. Scott was—

"Dead? You think ghosts don't communicate with each other? Especially when two of them are killed by the same person?"

The laughter came from behind me. He was here.

"Scott." My voice was weak. "I didn't mean to."

"Mean to what?" He was in front of me now, and the smell, the smell was everywhere. "To murder us in cold blood?"

His arms were around me before I could blink, and I felt like my whole body was on fire from the pain, that my bones were being crushed.

"Scott, stop," I said, my voice small. "I can't breathe."

He squeezed me tighter. "Good. Now you know how I felt when you put a bullet in my chest."

"Please," I begged. "God."

Scott's smile was heinous, his eyes dark. "God can't save you now, Charlotte."