ER ER ER ER ER!! "AH!" I jump out of bed and fall in a tangle of blankets. "Ow," I grunt and pull myself out of the blanket web and feel something fuzzy rub agents my leg. "Mornin Salem," I smile down at my black cat who meows in reply. "Time for work!" I grin and open my closet. I pull out my black T-shirt, leather jacket, and dark blue denim pants. I brush my hair, brush my teeth, grab my backpack, and tie my black combat boots. "Mornin Agent," Winslow smirks, holding two cups of coffee and two bags of donuts. "As much as I appreciate the breakfast and joe," I smile, grabbing a donut and cup, "why on earth are you here?" I ask. "Came to take you to the place of course," he smirks. "Fine, we take my jeep though," I say and hop in the driver side of my black jeep. (I swear if my autocorrect changes that to keep one more time!) We drive to the old mansion and unload the jeep. "So, were doing this, huh?" Winslow asks. "We have to. My job is riding on it," I say with determination and walk briskly to the door. Winslow runs to catch up with me. "Are you sure? Lestrange, as you said, people have died here!" He says. "I know. I have to find out why." "Curiosity killed the cat!" He says desperately. "Ah but satisfaction brought it back, Agent Winslow," I smirk and open the big white doors to the mansion. "So, Agent Lestrange, where we sleeping," he asks in an impatient tone. "Preferably somewhere no one has died..." I think aloud. "I think there's a master bedroom here somewhere..." I walk through the lavish foyer, which has a long red carpet that leads up the staircase that splits into two, multiple tapestries and statues, and two wide doors which lead to, I believe, the parlor and study. I walk through the parlor and instantly feel a strange coldness. "Bri..." a chilling voice calls. "Did you hear that?!" I ask Winslow, "I think you're being paranoid beautiful." "No I'm not," I insist. "I...I heard someone, calling my name." "I-it's just paranoia. All is goo- OH MY GOD!!" He shouts and I whirl around. "Are you ok?! What's wrong?!" He points to a portrait, "She looks exactly like you!" He grins, knowing he had scared me. "Don't do that! You're crazy!" I grunt. "But, she does, kinda, look like me..." I stare at a portrait of a semi-pale skinned girl with dark hair. She appears to be sitting outside, and the best part is, she's not wearing a dress! She's wearing trousers and a shirt! "She must be like, an old timey feminist!" I grin. "So. Cool!" "I bet mommy and daddy didn't like that," Winslow says. "Yea, wasn't exactly encouraged back then," I frown. Winslow pulls out a camera and takes a picture of the portrait. "What are you doing?" I ask almost angrily. "Chill, just taking a picture," he says waving the camera. "Woah, look at this," he shows me the picture and I gasp, "I-It's me." I stare at the photo, everything's normal except where the girl is, I sit there, with a sad and longing face, with my silver dagger protruding from my stomach, and beside me stands the pale and almost gray figure of the girl who is in the actual portrait, smiling down at me.