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desperation I scrambled to the other side of the hallway and threw my back against it. My eyes stayed glued to the knife. My blood dripped down in large drops across the wallpaper where it resided. I threw my hand over my arm where it had nicked me. As I looked down, I realized it wasn’t bad enough to leave such a huge amount of blood on the wall.
    When I looked back up at it, the red shimmered and moved into a puddle around the knife before disappearing into the wall.
    I screamed again. 
    My dad ran down the hallway with two bottles of water in hand as I scrambled from the floor. “What in the world is going on?”
    I talked fast, mumbling incoherently. “The knife flew at my head! Look at my arm! There was blood all over the wall!”
    “What?” he asked and looked at me in confusion as he stepped closer to me. “What happened to your arm?”
    “Don’t move! It might hurt you!” I exclaimed as my body shook tremendously. I was scared to death that he was would get hurt too. Losing him would be the end of me. 
    He ignored me, walked over to where I stood, and examined the knife protruding from the wall. “Briar, I can’t believe you did this. Have you lost your mind?”
    He looked at me and crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.
    “I—I told you! It flew at my head! It was something from this house!”
    “Don’t lie to me. Knives don’t just fly around unless someone throws them.”
    “Or a ghost! Because this house is obviously haunted!”
    “Briar, it’s just old.”
    I shook my head and stomped over to where the tools were. That’s exactly what I had thought up until the knife took on a life of its own. I did the only thing I could think of and took action, picking up all the sharp objects and tucking them in against my body. If he wasn’t going to do something, I would.
    “What are you doing?” he called after me.
    Without responding, I continued toward the kitchen. I didn’t stop until I reached the trashcan and dumped the objects in it. I rushed over to the drawer where we kept all of the knives. My dad’s footsteps echoed in the kitchen as I pulled out the entire drawer and took it over to the trashcan.
    “Don’t do that!”
    He rushed over to my side and grabbed a hold of the drawer. I held on tightly.
    “If you aren’t going to do something, I am!”
    “I’m not dealing with you acting like this. Whatever has gotten into you needs to stop. I’m getting tired of it.”
    I let go of the wood and jerked back from him. His words slammed into my heart like a hammer. I couldn’t believe he was blaming everything on me.
    “Well, I hope you have fun at your stupid party tonight. Maybe I will be alive when you get back.”
    “Briar—”
    I shook my head in anger and spun on my heels, walking away. I had to get out.
     
                 
     
    “Sissy?”
    Dillon’s voice sounded over my loud music, so I opened my eyes to see him walking to me from the house. I took out my ear buds and then lifted my hand to hide the bright sun from my face.
    “Hey, buddy.”
    He plopped down beside me in the grass and crossed his legs. “Why Daddy upset with you?”
    I shrugged because I didn’t want to answer that question and scare him. “He doesn’t believe me.”
    “‘Bout what?”
    “I just don’t like it here.” I reached out to run my finger through his hair, and he smiled.
    “Is it because of my friends?”
    My interest piqued. I hadn’t given them much thought before but after the knife incident, I was curious.
    “Those secret friends of yours?”
    He nodded. “Why you don’t see them?” With one little finger he pointed toward the house. “There.”
    My gaze followed, but I still didn’t see anything. Maybe it would be good for me to do some research on the house, or meet up with Ryder to learn everything he knew. Apparently I was missing something. There was no explanation for the flying knife.
    “Try harder, Sissy!”
    I sighed. “Okay.”
    Once again I