"Jackie, sweetie, why are nervous?" Wilma's pale fingertips whisked across Jackie's quivering lip, her face holding a petrified look. Wilma observed the girl in some twisted admiration. The skinny blonde, dressed in a tiny red tank top and beige shorts, lay on the cool floor of her dining room, the moonlight reaching her glossy eyes, reflecting porcelain rays in a spectacular fashion. She was so beautiful, with her hair spung out in a wave on the wooden tile the pair once skittered around as children, now pooling with blood. What a shame.

"Wha--t-t, what do y-you want, freak?" Jackie's stuttering gave Wilma some solace. Maybe her old friend did recognize her. "Darling, did something slip your mind?" Wilma responded in a cool tone, arms still pinning Jackie's slim figure against the cold floor. Wilma's transparent body stiffened as she counteracted Jackie's attempt at fleeing her compromised position.

Jackie's stuttering worsened as she shook more intensely, until she became unintelligible, except Wilma heard one thing, "So col-l-ld."

The ghost let out a sputtering laugh.

"You're cold?" Wilma jeered. "Try having your body shoved in a freezer for days, like you did to me."

Jackie flicked her chestnut eyes to the refrigerator, just inches away from her feet, the door a jar. A white and purple shaped loomed against the freezer compartment, slumped over.

She then shrieked in horror as she was pulled up by her limp arm from the ground and a soft, satisfied voice whispered, "Don't worry, there's plenty of room for you too."