Lisa Johnson

“I always do enjoy killing you,” Edgar growls into Lisa’s, Olivia’s, ear. His hand is tangled in her hair, and Lisa knows that he plans to throw her over the border of the property. She recalls what he’d said only moments earlier: ”Your home is gone. Your time is gone. There’s nothing left for you now but oblivion. A fate worse than death.” She shrieks as he hauls her forward, but a crack of thunder stops Edgar in his tracks.

There she is. Frances. She’s standing there, stone-faced, in their path. Each flicker of lightning overhead reveals her for what she truly is: a spirit come for vengeance. For justice. Lisa tears herself from Edgar’s grasp and stands back as Frances steps closer, joined by all of Edgar’s other victims. It worked. Lisa’d gotten through to them, connecting with them the same way she’d connected with Frances — the same way Olivia had connected with her. Every trophy Edgar had kept was now an instrument of his undoing.

The ghosts swirl and surround him, an ever-tightening circle until he has nowhere to go. Even his parents are there. His very first victims. They rip him from Olivia’s father’s body, and Lisa gives him the courtesy of a single goodbye before returning to Olivia. Her father is sprawled on the rainsoaked grass, and he looks up at her, at them, with a confused “Olivia? What happened?”

Once they’ve gotten Olivia’s mother and sister back in the house and into bed to sleep off the chloroform, Lisa dumps the bottle down the drain, then looks at Olivia’s reflection in the mirror. She has no idea if she can hear her, but she says it anyway:

“Have a nice life, Olivia.”

It’s a promise and a reassurance in one. Edgar is gone now, which means Olivia’s father won’t be doing anything dangerous, and their whole family has a full, long life ahead of them, together. If there’s a hint of jealousy in her tone, Lisa refuses to acknowledge it.

She has no idea what’s waiting for her when she stops possessing Olivia. She isn’t even sure she knows how to stop on her own. She’s only ever stopped by circumstance before. And once it’s done, what then? Is Edgar right? Will she vanish into oblivion, now that he isn’t anchoring her to her own home, her own time, for his own sick pleasure? And if not… the best case scenario is that she’s back in her own house, by herself. Her family moved on. She watched them go, and chose to stay behind to help Olivia. She’ll be alone. That might be just as scary.

Despite the uncertainty and the anxiety that lingers with it, the strain of the day catches up to her and to Olivia’s exhausted body, and Lisa sleeps.

When she wakes, she’s not in Olivia’s bed anymore. The first thing she feels is relief. She’s still here. She’s still somewhere, anyway, she still exists. And then she realizes she isn’t in her bed, either. She’s on the floor, where her bed is meant to be. Her carpeting is rough under her, catching on the knit of her sweater as she rolls over.

Her sweater. She isn’t wearing Olivia’s pajamas, or her own. She’s wearing the clothes she’d worn the day she died. Lisa sits up with a gasp, looking around, eyebrows pinching. Her room is empty. Her posters are gone. Her bed and nightstand are gone. No alarm clock. No walkie-talkie.

“Mom?” she whispers, the instinct bubbling up inside of her. She pushes to her feet and steps out of the bedroom. “Dad? Robbie?” She’s even got her Chucks on, her Walk-man hanging on her hip as she walks, then runs, through the quiet and empty house.

There are no paintings hung on the walls. No hall tables. No phones. Her couch and the TV are gone. The dining room table that had held dozens of the exact same meal, gone. Lisa stands, feeling lost and afraid, breath trembling as she stares now at the broad front door. She has no idea what to expect on the other side. Will it be a wall of fog? Will her parents be there?

Lisa steps closer, fingers curling around the knob. When she pulls the door open, it’s to a lawn overlooking a cul de sac, just like the one the house had been built on. Across the way, she can see empty lots with giant 'COMING SOON' signs by the edge of the properties. It's not anything like the houses she'd seen outside of Olivia's house, or the ones she remembers from before. She stops, looking up at the clear sky. There’s no fog pushing in against the yard. The sun is up and bright, though she can’t feel its warmth on her skin. She steps out onto the stoop, then down to the lawn.

This isn’t her street. Where the hell is she?

[ Lisa doesn't know she can leave the property, so her debut is a little different! Come check out the new brick Georgian in the new cul de sac and say hi to the new resident ghosty! ]