After Vesper left abruptly, Regan wondered what happened to her but she let it go after a while. She enforced her troubled thoughts on her mind, and assured herself that Vesper didn't believe her.
Bringing up the courage, she had finished cleaning her room one hour ago.
Then she played games on her laptop but got bored easily. She attempted to read but didn't read anything.
"Stupid story," she muttered.
That way, a strong melancholy engulfed her and time stretched endlessly, as if it would never pass. She stayed in the backyard and then walked around the neighborhood. But she couldn't ignore the bizarre feeling that he was lurking behind the trees, waiting to hypnotize and then strangle her.
These thoughts were in Regan's mind for days and they were driving her crazy. Even when she supposedly slept after school, it was enforced by Monica. As for Regan, she struggled internally, gripped her hair and slammed her books. But despite all that, she didn't cry, she didn't want to.
She dumped her frustration to online games that once were her vibe. As for the books, they were waste of time, lies with stupid fairytales. She hated them all, they were lies and the more she tried to focus on them, the more she fell captive of the delusions of her own mind.
The thought that he had sneaked inside her room about these damn roses made her shudder. She had lost count of them but these two days, she hadn't gotten any. She had thrown the others in the trash with no regret.
She had always been negative and paranoid, but it had been her mind only. Now, there was someone else as well, who was adding to the mental torment. Still, he lingered, always lingered in her mind; his beautiful and captivating eyes.
And now, one hour ago, she tried to study but it was like there was a wall between focusing and thinking.
She wondered, what did she do wrong to deserve all this struggle? Why couldn't she be normal and happy like the other girls her age? She even was afraid of her own sanity. That terrified her even more; she'd imagine herself in a mental asylum. If Monica would send her there, how would she survive? She knew that her aunt would do it, she'd think that Regan needed it, she'd do it.
These thoughts roamed her mind every damn second and she couldn't help but feel even more depressed. She had headaches all the time, she couldn't sleep, like always.
The sound of the door opening snapped her out of thoughts. It was Monica. She walked over to the backyard, and found Regan there, deep in thought. She sighed heavily, worried about her weird behaviour. She couldn't wrap her mind about Regan's hair color as well.
"Regan, I have to talk to you," she began, her voice calm.
"For what?"
"Well dear, I've seen that you are very bored and grumpy these days. What's wrong?" Monica asked, putting a hand on Regan's shoulder.
Regan gave her a dry look. She had embarrassed herself enough by telling Vesper everything, when Monica didn't even know.
"I don't know how to tell this, it's not like you're going to believe me anyway." Regan got up from the chair and walked inside the house. She entered and sank on the couch, a part of her wanting to tell Monica, a part of her sinking on fear.
"Oh my dear! Why are you saying that? Tell me, what's the matter? Is it about school? Are you getting bullied? If that's it, I'll help you," Monica said, following her.
Another wave of melancholy engulfed her. She remembered the times she was bullied; it didn't affect her like now. She even considered the idea that it would've been better to be bullied than to suffer from a dark entity.
"No, it has nothing to do with school."
"Then tell me what it is," Monica demanded, her eyes searching hers for answers.
If there was a reason that was making Regan to doubt telling her, apart from not being believed, was that she knew Monica would get worried and align it with some sort of mental disorder. She knew her aunt was very freaky when it came to these things.
So, Regan blamed herself for letting her emotional state to take over, for letting her grumpy side to show, when she could've masked it with a 'fine' face. At least that's what she'd think. At least, Monica wouldn't see it, just like she hadn't seen it so many times before.
"Regan, I won't let you go until you tell me what's bothering you," Monica persisted, taking Regan's hand in hers.
"Scared kitten," the deep voice mocked in her mind.
"Just shut up!!!" she yelled back to it.
"Regan, you-"
"Fine, I'm going to tell you," Regan interrupted, taking a deep breath. She began to tell her aunt the same things she told Vesper. Different from Vesper, Monica looked at her the whole time with disbelief. Regan's words were filled with strong emotions like rage and hatred for her supernatural occurrences.
"Dear, I know it's very unsettling, but why do you have to see the glass half empty everytime? Why the need to see everything so negatively? Sometimes our minds can play tricks on us. Our imagination can make us hear things that aren't really there. Maybe it's just your mind playing tricks on you," Monica suggested, her voice calm and soft, trying to reason logically with her niece.
"But what about the roses!" Regan exclaimed, standing up from the couch, "You saw it yourself, aunt. Someone's been entering my room and....and....placing these damn roses in my bed! It's....I can't just pretend it's all in my head!"
Monica's eyes widened. She had seen only one time a rose and thought it was from some guy at school or a prank. At least that was what Vesper had suggested and she had agreed, thinking it was true. "You've been receiving roses and you didn't tell me?" she asked, her voice tight with concern.
"I mean, it's not like it's a pleasant thing to talk about," Regan replied, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. "I always throw them away, hoping it would stop, but they just keep coming back. It's eerie."
Monica's expression didn't change, "Maybe it's someone from school, trying to get your attention."
Regan scoffed, "As if I'm pretty enough to get that kind of attention," she said, feeling the weight of her words. "It's not a boy, aunt. It's a... presence. A ghost!"
Monica shook her head, her face a mask of disbelief, "A ghost? Regan, you've been watching too many horror movies. You know I don't believe in such things."
Regan felt the frustration boil over. She knew that her aunt would never believe her, but she had to try. "Aunt, I'm not making this up. I can feel it. The roses have thorns like knives because.... because he's threatening me. It's not some sort of romantic gesture," she spat, the last word feeling like poison.
"And who's 'he'?" Monica's voice was calm but her eyes searched Regan's for any signs of a prank or a delusion.
Regan took a deep breath, deciding to leave out the part about the handsome man with captivating eyes. She didn't want her aunt to think she was hallucinating about a nonexistent crush. "It's just how I refer to it, the presence. It's not anyone I know," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Monica studied her for a moment, her gaze intense. "Regan, you're overthinking things. You're under a lot of stress with school and the pressure. And as for the roses, I've stayed sometimes awake for my job's sake and I haven't seen anyone suspicious around the house," she said, her voice a blend of concern and skepticism. "Besides, our house isn't haunted."
Regan sighed heavily, knowing she couldn't come to an agreement with her aunt. They were total opposites when it came to believing in the supernatural. Monica was a firm believer in science and logic, while Regan always had a penchant for the mysterious. She knew that trying to convince her would be like trying to convince a brick wall to move.
"Okay, I'll stop," Regan said finally, her voice small. She didn't want to upset Monica further, but she knew it wasn't all in her head.
Monica nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Good. Now, why don't you go take a shower and try to relax? Maybe it'll help you clear your mind.
Regan nodded, her chest having with sadness. If Monica wouldn't believe her, who would? She continuously prayed to God to find a way out from this mental torment.
After a while, she felt a tiny flicker of determination rise inside her. She decided to take matters in her own hands. She'd prove the house was haunted by entities. That was the only way that Monica would believe.
Before she could get up from the couch, her aunt came again. She was holding a box of hair dye, with red color.
"What's that?" Monica asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't know," Regan replied with a shrug, "Where did you find it?"
"In your room," Monica replied.
Regan couldn't believe it. How did the hair dye got in her room? And why the color was red?
"Well, I don't know how it ended up there. Maybe you brought it?" Regan asked skeptically.
"Why would I buy a red color? I don't dye my hair red," Monica stated the fact.
"Maybe you bought it by mistake?"
"That's not possible," she assured. "I was thinking, maybe you bought it and don't remember? Or you dyed your hair with this color?" Monica asked again, making it a reference to her niece's strange cherry hair color.
"Aunt, I've told you thousands of times, I haven't dyed my hair!" Regan exclaimed, feeling a wave of exhaustion through her. "If I did, I would have no reason to pretend like I didn't. I don't know how the box got there!" She couldn't believe her aunt still thought that she was dying her hair. The glass was already filled and Monica was pouring even more.
"Maybe Vesper forgot it there if none of us had it?" Regan suggested.
Monica sighed, "Yes it could be. Go and ask her when you're free," she said and left the box on the coffee table before walking away.
Regan bent down to grab the box. She unpacked it and noticed that the hair dye was half used.
Ironic or not, it would be a great faux evidence that Regan had used it. And she didn't even know where it came from.