Free Ghost Program by Marion Desaulniers Page A

storm was over!  I sat up in bed only to find myself alone in my bedroom.  A chorus of songbirds caroled in the beautiful, clear morning but I felt alone, discarded, forgotten.
       “Brent?”  My voice sounded as unsure as I felt.
     
       I pushed my blankets off and stood up.  The table which had surprised me so much yesterday evening by its appearance was gone.  So was Gregg.  Hell, so was everyone.  I noticed something that hadn’t been there yesterday, a letter on my computer desk.  Trying to shake off morning chills, I picked it up.
     
       Sam,
       I’m so sorry but I’m going to try the road and see if it’s clear to get to Seattle.  I’ve got to make my classes today and get to work.  I promise to call as soon as possible.
       Love, Brent
     
       “Damn,” I said.  Well, at least he’d had the courtesy to leave a note.
     
       I glanced at my alarm clock.  It was only seven.  I’d have time to make it to my classes if I got ready now.  I wondered if Gregg was in the room with me.  I thought briefly about turning on Casper, then shook my head.  No, it was my software that had started my family on a path to destruction, and I would turn it in, never to touch it again.  It broke my heart to think that my months of hard work were all for nothing, but I knew Brent was right.  I’d created something evil, something that should have never seen the light of day.
     
       I rummaged through a dresser drawer and found a pair of black sweatpants, matching them to a baggy black sweater with a turtleneck which hid the purple bruises that lined my neck, bruises from cold, dead fingers.  I pulled on the garments then looked at myself in the mirror and liked the image that reflected back at me. 
     
       I stood in front of that reflection for a full minute, studying myself while thinking about the events of the evening before, remembering Gregg, thinking of his odd reappearance and demeanor and about my newfound connection with Brent, knowing that I’d never look at my bed again without being reminded of our night together.  In my haunted, stormy house.
     
       I pulled on Nike running shoes and slipped my Casper thumb drive and typed instruction manual into my backpack. 
     
       I’d have to take a trip to the bathroom to run a brush through my hair.  I touched the back of my head and felt the stiffness of dried blood there.  Any hope I’d had that I’d imagined yesterday’s events vanished as I felt the spiny sutures on my scalp.
     
       I took a deep breath and tried to shake the nervousness that ran through me.  Opening my bedroom door, I forced myself to take one step, then another, towards the open doorway of the bathroom.  It should have been easy, but I was afraid, and my breath came out in ragged gasps.
     
       I reached it and peered inside.  Strangely, the sinister feeling of the room had been replaced with a benign aura.  Mom had decorated the walls with happy paintings of Orca whales, and they now frolicked through the waves as cheery sunlight shone through the small, leaded window.  The whales seemed to grin at me as they chased baby seals through the turquoise sea.  Why did I have to act like such a child?  It was just a bathroom, nothing more, nothing less.
     
       I stepped in front of the bathroom sink.  Touching the wall, I flipped on the electrical switch, and the sink and mirror basked in warm, yellowish glow.  My toothbrush was in its corner where I’d left it.  I squirted some Crest on it and jiggled it over my teeth.  It wasn’t going to be easy to brush my hair with dried blood on it.  I took a washcloth out of the bathroom closet, wet it, and tried to rub the bloody spot of hair.  I lifted a strand.  It was still streaked with red.  This wasn’t going to work; I needed a shower to wash it thoroughly.
     
       I briefly thought about skipping classes.  My copy of the police report would likely excuse me from my lab.  But