Chapter 2

Chad Logan' s van crunches over the gravel outside. It is night. His headlights cut through the darkness, landing on the cabin's decaying porch.

"Alright, Legion, here we are," he says to his camera. "The infamous Lakeside Cabin. You can feel the negative energy from here."

He steps inside. The door creaks. Dust motes dance in the beam of his flashlight. The air is thick with the smell of mold and old pain. My pain.

He sets up his equipment. Laptops, cameras, ghost-hunting gadgets that beep and flash uselessly.

"Okay, Elara," he says to the empty room, his voice echoing. "I'm here. The public says you were a violent, angry soul. Let's see what you've got."

I have nothing. I am just a memory, a whisper of cold air.

But I can try.

I gather all the energy I have, a five-year-long scream of injustice, and I push.

A sudden, violent gust of wind slams through the cabin, rattling the windows. It's not a natural wind. It's me.

A loose floorboard near the fireplace flips up and clatters to the side.

Chad jumps, then grins at his camera.

"Whoa! Did you guys see that? She's here! And she's angry!"

He walks over, his light pointing into the dark space under the floor. He sees it. A small, leather-bound book.

My journal.

"What's this?" he says, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. He reaches down and pulls it out, blowing dust off the cover. "Looks like we found something, Legion."

He sits down, opens the first page, and aims the camera at the words.

"Let's see what the monster wrote," he says, and begins to read aloud to his thousands of viewers.