The Troublemaker's Ghost | ✓

The lingering stench of bat barf and rotten eggs clung to the air of my new apartment, a constant reminder of why this place, my last resort, was so cheap. "Fuck this place smells like shit!" my six-year-old sister Audrey declared, wrinkling her nose. I stifled a sigh, scrubbing at a cobweb that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on the ceiling.

Moving from sunny Florida to dusty New York had been a whirlwind of financial woes and emotional upheaval after Mom's death. But, hey, at least Rodrick, my long-term boyfriend, lived next door. His appearance in the doorway, all nerdy charm and baby blue eyes, was a welcome distraction from the endless cleaning.

"I bought cookies for you," he said, pushing a plate into my hands. A small comfort. Yet, as I leaned down, I noticed his shirt was inside out. "You are wearing your shirt inside out. Have you been having wild sex?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood. He bristled, almost too quickly, and my internal alarm bells, tiny as they were, started to chime.

He left soon after, ditching me for an 'assignment.' I flopped onto the couch, exhaustion seeping into my bones. The apartment was quiet, too quiet, save for Audrey's muffled 'meditating' sounds from her room. She claimed she could see the dead, but I always dismissed it as childhood fantasy. Then, a sudden, jarring bang from my bedroom sent a shiver down my spine. The door to my room, which I was certain I had closed, was now ajar, and the pendant light was oscillating. No wind outside. Just me, and the unsettling feeling that I wasn't alone.