"Honey, come inside and sit with me, okay? I've missed you," Aunt Lydia said. 

She led me into the center of her home, a warm living room that was filled with trinkets, throw blankets and toss pillows covered her antique claw footed, black couch. A huge fire burned in her gorgeous fireplace and the mantle was adorned by family photos ranging from daguerreotypes to Erik's senior photo. In the middle of the room was a round coffee table that was surrounded by colorful floor pillows where she beckoned me to sit.

"Would you like some tea?"

"I hate to press, but if you have anything stronger, I'll take some of that."

"Bourbon?"

"Bourbon it is. Thank you."

"Erik! Grab a bottle of bourbon and some glasses, please love."

"You got it!" He winked at her.

I could hear him clanking in the kitchen and the thought of him in there made me smile.

"So, Jenn. Who's your friend?"

I was taken completely aback, "my friend?"

Aunt Lydia didn't even flinch, "the dark, curly haired girl standing over there in the corner, and looking none-too-pleased, I might add," she nodded to the corner behind me.

I started to shake. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't turn around. I was petrified. Morgan was here. I could sense her now.

Aunt Lydia continued to speak, but not to me, "Come sit too, dear. You're welcome here."

I could feel the energy in the room start to shift and felt something press its weight into the cushion next to mine.

Aunt Lydia stated, "my house is bound against negative forces and spirits. She followed you up to the door, I allowed her in. I hope that's okay with you."

"It's uh, it's fine. That's, uh, that's... she's my best friend. Morgan. She was killed a few years ago in an accident."

The floor and pictures on the wall began to shake violently. I thought some would fall, but luckily none did. Aunt Lydia nodded solemnly, "Murdered. Murdered is the more accurate statement, my dear. A train accident, was it?"

I nodded in agreement as I felt hot tears sting my cheek.

"She trying to kill me," I cried even more. "She thinks I did it. ME, her best friend! I would never even think of it. I love her and she wants me gone."

Aunt Lydia immediately glanced down at my hand. I lowered it onto my lap in a delayed attempt to hide my burns.

"No honey. She's not. She's trying to warn you," Aunt Lydia said in a low voice.

Erik entered the room, carrying the requested bourbon and glasses.

"Babe, you want some soup? It's weird. But it's bomb. Aunt Lydia rocks in the kitchen, but I think there may have been a frog in the soup."

"I'm vegan, my son, so watch your tone. The only frogs in my kitchen are friends, not potions," she teased.

"You tell her about, Morgan yet?"

"She's here, Erik," I replied glancing over to the floor pillow at my right.

He cocked an eyebrow and poured two glasses of bourbon, setting them down on the table.

"Alright, then. You want me to leave you ladies to your Ouija board?"

"Wrong again, love. I don't need a silly game to communicate with the departed. They come to me. Now sit and pour another glass, Morgan would like one."

"She's, uh, she's not much of a drinker..." I stammered.

Aunt Lydia laughed, "she says she is when the occasion calls for it."

I looked at the pillow again, a curious look on my face. That was undoubtedly a Morgan answer. A my Morgan answer. Erik looked reluctant but poured a glass and set it in front of the invisible presence on the pillow.

"Morg?" the glass in front of her moved.

"Jesus," Erik stated.

"You can talk to her, Jenn. Anything, say anything to her, she's listening and I'll relay anything she has to say back, okay? Go ahead..."

Tears flowed down my cheeks freely now. Aunt Lydia reached to the floor and grabbed a box of tissues, handing me one in the process.

"Morg, I fucking miss you," was all that I could muster between sobs.

"Breathe honey, it's okay..." Aunt Lydia said.

Erik slid my glass of bourbon closer to me, ushering me to take a drink to get my wits back. I took a sip and allowed the harsh, brown liquid to inflame my body before I tried again.

"Morgan, what's happening? Why are you trying to hurt me?"

There was a pause before Aunt Lydia nodded, "she said it's because you're not hearing her."

"What does that mean? What you mean, Morg?"

"She says you aren't listening to her. She's been trying to talk to you since she was murdered, but you have never heard her. She's strong now, but too strong. Her words are coming out at actions. She's not trying to hurt you."

"Then why... Why when I see do you look so evil?"

"Because she's out for revenge. She wants justice for who did this to her."

"Who did this, Morg? I'll fucking kill them myself. Who did this to you?"

"Easy, babe," Erik again pushed the glass on me.

"She can't say his name," Aunt Lydia looked confused, "why honey? Why can't you say his name?"

"Morg, who did this? You need to tell me! I can help you!"

Aunt Lydia nodded again as if understanding, "she said that the energies of nature will not allow her to vocalize her murderer's name... It is not in the cards. But, if you will allow her, she can show you... "

"What do you mean, by 'show me'," I asked.

"With visions. She can come into your body. Basically, take over all of your senses, and in a dream-like state, she can show you what she saw that night. Her eyes will become yours, and she will reveal the truth to you. But, you have to allow it."

"Come into my body? Like what? All Exorcist-style? I'll be possessed by her?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Is it safe?"

"As long as I'm here, love, yes. It's entirely safe."

"Jenn, you can't possibly consider this. That's insane, babe," Erik looked genuinely concerned.

I polished off my glass of bourbon and stared at where Morgan should have been.

"Let's do this."