Page 45 of The Imaginary Friend's Obsession

It’s rather humiliating, buying a Ouija board as a grown woman. The cashier gives me a dry look and comments, “Isn’t it a little late for Halloween?”

It doesn’t feel so childish, though, when I’m alone in my living room with the board set out in front of me. I remember hearing of kids playing with these things back in the day, but of course my parents would never allow such a thing in the house. And it wasn’t as though I had any friends to do it with, anyway, except for Dorian.

I don’t have anyone I trust now, either. So it’s just me, alone in my empty old house, placing two fingers on the planchette.

Foreboding sweeps over me, but I shake it off. This is just a piece of plastic. I doubt there’s anything inherently paranormal about it, but with my powers to assist, it may prove to be a useful tool.

I think of Ezra’s words during our hypnosis sessions:Focus your mind. Shape your intent.

“I want to make contact with the other side,” I whisper, letting my eyes slide shut. And then, more loudly, I say, “Is anyone there? Can you hear me?”

There’s nothing but the soft creaks and groans of the house settling around me. The familiar noises of a place that is very old and very empty. The planchette remains still under my fingers.

I’m not sure if I’m more disappointed or relieved, but I’m not ready to give up quite yet and leave my—fears? hopes?—suspicionsto rest.

“It’s Daisy,” I say to the empty house. “I came back. I’m looking for answers. If you’re here, then…please, talk to me.” I pause, swallowing a lump in my throat. “Please, answer. Is there anyone here?”

Silence lingers in the aftermath of the question. But suddenly there’s pressure on my fingers, like another hand on top of mine, guiding it. My eyes fly open with a gasp, tracing the movement of the plastic as it slides around the board and lands on the wordYES.

“Hi,” I whisper, uncertainty twinging in my gut. I guess, after all this, I wasn’t really expecting an answer. Dread and relief mingle in my stomach, setting my nerves alight. “Who am I speaking to?”

There’s no response.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” I say. “I want to help you. Please, can you tell me your name?”

Still, there’s nothing.

I don’t know much about ghosts, but it’s possible it doesn’t remember its name. Maybe its presence is weak, like Dorian when I first came back to Ash Valley.

“I lived in this house when I was a child,” I say. “Have you been here since then?”

The planchette circlesYESagain.

I bite my lip. “I’ve…forgotten some things since then,” I say. “Have we met before?”

AnotherYES.

“Oh.” I take a breath, try to think back on my recovered memories. Everything is so scattered still; I’m struggling to put the pieces into a coherent picture, or into a timeline. “Do you know Dorian?”

AnotherYES. But the planchette doesn’t stop there this time; it keeps sliding, spelling out words. The blur of letters is almost too fast to understand.Almost. But as it finishes, my stomach drops like a stone.

I KILLED HIM.

I try to pull my fingers off the planchette, but I physically can’t. The weight on the back of my hand increases until it’s almost painful, until the plastic slides out from under me and it’s just my fingers pressed against the Ouija board. I can feel someone or something holding me in an ironlike grip.

“What do you want?” I cry out, tears forming in my eyes as I try to resist.

This weight, thisthing, drags my hand across the board in lieu of the planchette, touching the letters with my own two fingers in an act that is invasive, revolting, a betrayal of my autonomy.

But the message is almost more horrifying than that.

LET ME OUT.

A small, terrified gasp slips out of me as I remember Ezra’s warnings about people like us being especially prone to possession. Does this thing want to use me as a way out of the house?

I refuse to let that happen. I am not some helpless girl, somethingto be used.

Now that I know how to do it, it’s easy to call up my power. I draw it around me like a cloak, imagining a protective barrier that settles over my skin.

---