A laugh escaped Reagan’s lips as Henry pulled her up the stairs. She held a hand over her mouth, but it didnt matter if they made any noise. The loud music pounding downstairs covered up any sound.

Once they reached the top of the carpeted stairs, Henry attacked her face with soft kisses. Reagan giggled, finally meeting their lips in a real, full-on smooch.

Just the thought of the word smooch made Reagan begin laughing again. Henry joined in with her joyous, carefree spirit by chuckling himself, before tucking piece of hair behind her ear.

Reagan blushed, but grabbed Henry’s wrist and tugged him away from the banister, farther into the hallway.

Neither of then had ever been in that house—they had no idea where they were going. They were just at one of the many parties that had been thrown to celebrate Halloween. Of course, only upperclassmen were allowed, but Henry had brought her as his plus-one, so everything was fine.

The pair stumbled towards one of the doors, laughing and kissing. Henry trapped Reagan against the door, her fingers grasping for the doornob as they kissed hungrily.

“Henry,” she murmured against his lips, turning the doornob. The door opened as Henry continued to push her back into the room, until Reagan’s foot ran into something, causing her to trip and fall backward.

Reagan gasped as she fell onto the carpet. But…she didn’t fall onto the carpet. Instead she fell back onto something rather squishy and unstable. When she rocked backwards, it sort of moved with her.

That’s when she heard a loud scream above her, and looked down to see that she had, in fact, not landed on the carpet.

She had landed on a girl’s dead, cold body.

Reagan screamed, her voice shattering the air. Her yell was even louder than Henry’s. It rose above the sound of the music, which shortly after was cut off.

There was a rushing of feet, and then suddenly a boy, who had hosted the party, entered the room. He was rubbing his temples and had his eyes closed.

“Look, I said no going into any of the bedrooms,” he said tiredly, as if he’d already had to say it multiple times that night. “If you like it ro—.”

The boy cut off when he saw the body on the ground. Reagan was now stationed at the opposite side of the room, her eyes wide and skin pale.

“Oh—I think I’m going to be sick,” Henry moaned, and he rushed out of the room. They could hear him retching in the bathroom a few doors down.

A sheen of sickly sweat coated Reagan’s forehead. Her stomach felt like it was doing flips. She thought about running to join Henry, but she didn’t know if she could move.

“Did you kill her?” the boy asked. Reagan was so intoxicated she couldn’t even remember his name, but she shook her head vigorously.

“No—no!” she cried, feeling the beginnings of tears prickle at her eyes. “We were just kissing—Henry and I, I mean. He opened that door, a-and I fell back on top of her!”

Reagan pointed a shaky finger at the girl’s body. She hadn’t even looked at her properly, but it was clear she was dead. Her eyes were a pale, lifeless blue. Her face had no color, her rich brown hair was splayed out behind her head in intricate designs.

“Who killed her?” the boy wondered aloud. Reagan frowned at his tone, which was still accusatory.

“I don’t know!” Reagan cried, trying to steady herself against the wall.

“Do you know her?” the boy was asking. He’d gone pale now, too. His face was almost as grey as the girl’s on the floor.

Reagan took a cautious step away from the wall and crawled over to the body.

Her skin clammy and eyes soaked with tears, Reagan examined the dead girl’s face.

It took her a few minutes to absorb what she was seeing. Her vision was blurry, her head pounding, but she could not mistake those eyes for anybody elses.

They were her own.

Reagan drew in a sharp gasp and fell backwards, another wave of cries coming over her.

“That’s my sister!”