Diana parked in front of the abandoned house and made her way inside. She carefully opened the loose-hanging door and walked over creaky floorboards. The dust was so thick it made the wood a shade lighter, and shoes left prints in it like snow.
She made her way to the old living room, where a mauve couch was still there. She checked the seat with her hand, then sat down, placing the backpack on her right. She took out a spirit box and her notebook, placing them on the stained coffee table.
She turned the spirit box on. It blared a screeching sound, then a rhythmic static-y clicking as it switched through radio channels. The ghost could choose whatever words he or she wanted.
“Hello!” Diana said out loud, opening her notebook and taking out a pen. “Is anybody there?”
The static grew louder, scratchier, then a clear “leave” rang out.
“I just want to talk.” She said. “It’s for a class project. I have to do a case study.”
There was a pause for a few seconds. “Why” came out of the spirit box.
“I’m a psychology student.” She explained. “I have an assignment to pick a random person - with mental problems, of course - and do a profile of what’s wrong, root causes, and possible treatment plans. I heard about you supposedly haunting this place and refusing to leave because of unfinished business, and I like the supernatural, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone! Help you out and get a good grade while at it. I don’t have to mention that you’re dead, it’s all anonymous.”
“You…re a psychia…trist?”
“Oh, no, no, no. I’m studying to be a psychologist. Psychologists and psychiatrists are very different. The latter deal with very complex and sometimes more difficult conditions.” I’m not doing all that, she thought to herself..” Fuck that.
The spirit box went quiet. “What do… you want?” It eventually said.
“Well… your story. What happened? Why are you still here?”
“I was… killed… betrayed… I want revenge…”
“Who killed you?”
“My hus…band…”
“Do you know… why he did it? If he had a reason behind it?”
“Yes… my money… run off… with my sister…”
“Oh, gosh!”
“They left… I’m still here… It’s not fair…”
“Can’t you go to the other side?”
“I… don’t want to… I want… revenge…”
“Well, there’s not much we can do now... Your husband and sister are probably long dead too. What’s done is done. The best you could do is to move on.”
“It’s not fair…”
“Would you rather stay in this house forever, then?”
“It’s… my house…”
Diana sighed. How was she supposed to help someone like this? So annoying.
She put on her gentle voice again. “Even if you got revenge on them, I don’t think it would make you feel better. It might, for a few seconds, but you’d still be…well, dead. It wouldn’t erase what happened to you.”
“Neither is… talking to you…”
“I want to help you.” Diana furrowed her brows.
“You’re… not…Get… out…”
Diana flushed. Stupid ghost! Sulking for decades and being rude. Who did she think she was? Would Diana have to deal with living people like this too? She groaned in advance.
“If you refuse all help that comes your way and stick to being so stubborn, you’ll never find peace, you know.” She said. “It’s worse for you to stay here instead of moving on and resting on the other side. You’re stalling, basically.”
“What… do you… care? You said… it… It’s just… for a grade…”
“I have to care! It’s my future job!”
“Pick… a different job…”
Diana hopped to her feet. “What, you want me to go search your husband and sister and assassinate them for you?!”
“It’d be… more useful…”
“I’m not going to jail just to make you feel better!”
“Then… leave…”
“Ugh! You’re awful!”
“Do… you help… only good people?”
“My future clients won’t be hellbent on revenge! They’ll be anxious, depressed, maybe autistic and with ADHD, and I’ll just have to prescribe them some pills!”
“So you’ll… just… drug them?”
“Medicine exists for a reason! It makes you function properly!”
“If someone… walks into your office… hurt… wants revenge… will you tell them to… just get over it?”
“What else am I supposed to tell them?! ‘Yeah, Timmy! Go ahead! Kill that jerk! Great idea!’ Everybody has to get over what happened to them eventually!”
“Why… are you yelling?”
“I’m not yelling!!”
Diana pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jesus Christ… I should have chosen a different person.”
“Will you… pick and choose… who you’ll help?”
“Yes! That’s a thing, actually! If I feel a patient is above my capabilities, I should send them to someone else.”
“Send someone… to help me, then…”
“No! For all I know, you’ll get someone to kill for you!”
“Why… do you even want… to be a psychiatrist?”
“It’s psychologist, not psychiatrist! Get it right! You think we just do whatever you want?”
“Then what… do you do?”
“Talk! Figure out what’s wrong with you! Find solutions!”
“I already know… what’s wrong with me…”
“Good for you!” Diana shoved her notebook back in her backpack.
“You’re not… good at the talking part…”
“Now you can’t talk at all!” She shut down the spirit box. “Have fun being a ghost forever!”
She stormed out of the house and got back in her car. What a waste of time. No wonder her husband got rid of her and left. Diana wondered how many of her future clients would be this unpleasant.
She sighed and turned on the engine. She should just look for a living person to interview, someone with daddy issues or something. Why did she complicate herself? She thought psychology was better, and easier, than other branches of medicine. Just be a common sense filter. At least she didn’t have to babysit sick and dying people.
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