The Psycho and the Angel

And haunted it is

Maya's POV

I walked down the corridor, heading towards the square in the ceiling that I could pull presumably a ladder down. I felt a cold rush of air streak past me and I stopped, shivering slightly under the attic. I reached up to pull the chain for the stairs when the doorbell rang. I paused, waiting to see if someone would answer it but nobody did. I huffed, annoyed I had to delay my exploring, before I traipsed down the staircase towards the front door.

I looked through the peep hole and saw who I could only describe as Spock from Star Trek stood on my front porch. I inwardly battle whether or not to open it. "Fuck it" I thought, shrugging, as I unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Oh hello," 'Spock' said, smiling at me.

"Hi... Can I help you, sir?" I asked him, eyebrows furrowed only slightly in confusion.

"Yes, I believe you could," he replied.

Tate's POV

I ran towards Maya's retreating figure, accidentally brushing past her with my cold arm on the way, and now I stood in front of her, under the hatch up to the attic with no idea how my plan was going to pan out now. If only ghosts were telepathic for fuck sake.

I could only watch with baited breath as her skinny hand reached up towards the chain to get into the attic. Then the doorbell rang. Thank God!

Maya huffed before she trudged down to answer the door. I leant over the bannister as far as I dared, seeing none other than Chad stood on the doorstep. I listened into their conversation.

"Hi... Can I help you, sir?" Maya asked, polite, as seemed the norm.

"Yes, I believe you could," Chad replied, and as with every ghost in this godforsaken joint, I couldn't help but dread what he had in mind.

"How so?" Maya asked, confused, her eyebrows gradually knitting themselves together.

"Oh, it's to do with the interior design, my dear," Chad smiled... genuinely... that hardly ever happened.

"Oh, in that case, come on in!" Maya smiled, opening the door fully and allowing Chad to walk in.

Maya's POV

"You'll probably want to speak to my parents as well if it's about the actual house," I said to the man; "They're just through here in the kitchen."

"Thank you, my dear, and who might you be?"

"Maya Harmon, sir. Pleasure to meet you," I said, smiling at him as I stuck out my hand for him to shake.

"Chad Warwick," he smiled, shaking my outstretched hand; "You're so polite, Maya, my dear."

I could have sworn I heard him mutter something along the lines of "makes a change", but I decided not to think anything of it, instead smiling back at him as I lead him into the kitchen.

"Mom, Dad, this is Chad Warwick. He'd like to talk about the interior design of the house," I said as my parents turned around.

"Oh, Marcy told us not to expect you until next week!" Mom gushed, patting her hair slightly.

"Yeah, won't it be better for you to look at it when all the furniture's moved in properly?" Dad asked, casting a sideways glance at Mom.

If I could have scoffed, I would have. Dad's affair was the whole reason we had moved here in the first place; so he and Mom could have a shot at a happy marriage again. And she patted her hair once and he's getting suspicious. The lack of trust in this family was unbelievable.