She thought I was her imaginary friend. That’s what her parents tell her anyway.

“Come on Holly, we’re going to the beach!” Jasmine laughed, grabbing her favourite teddy and running out the door.

I can’t follow her. I can’t leave this house.

She thinks I’m her imaginary friend.

But I was real once.

Real and breathing and alive.

And now I’m trapped inside this house.

A spirit in the walls.

The lonely ghost.