Upstairs in my kitchen, I poured a generous glass of whiskey. This made no sense. Frank was one of the few people I considered a friend. We had known ...ach other two-thirds of our lives. I spent as much time at his apartment as he did at mine. Now he was the victim of a ‘locked room’ murder. I made dinner and picked at my food, not feeling any appetite. The whiskey calmed my nerves, but it was sour in my stomach, and soon, my head started to pound again, just like the night before. I went to bed. I jump up and turn around to see G.G. (Ghost Girl) standing behind her chair."So it wasn't a dream....?" I ask, still a bit worried about Ashley. I feel her hand and it is even colder than before. "No, it was not a dream, you said you would help me and here you are, my...hero." She says. My fear from the day before is creeping back, the way she said it..doesn't sit right with me."Is she ok..? What did you do?" I ask, carefully studying her."Don't worry, she'll be fine. Once I finish her body. More

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