Chapter 5: Nightmare Confessions

Immediately, a flood of viewers poured in, the comments rolling by:

[u/SnarkySue: Exciting, you dare to stream again.]

[u/DeepDiveFan: Hey, look, Lila really doesn’t look the same as before. Go look at her old photos—hasn’t she changed a lot?]

[u/PlasticTruth: Maybe she had plastic surgery?]

[u/AnonWatcher: Plastic surgery? Isn’t she supposed to be all natural? I think saying she’s possessed by a spirit is more convincing.]

The conspiracy theories were wild. Someone even accused me of being a government clone.

All sorts of wild comments popped up. I broke out in a cold sweat.

The ring light was hot, but my palms were hotter. I forced a smile.

If this were any other actress, she’d clap back without mercy, but it just had to be me.

And everything they’re saying is true, so I don’t even have the guts to lie.

I tried to think of something witty, but all I managed was a weak wave.

"Hey, little gremlins. Miss me?"

I tried to adjust my mood and forced what I thought was a nice smile, but the comments exploded again.

A few people posted screenshots of my old yearbook photos, comparing them side by side. Not my best look.

Looking closely, the comments split into two camps. One believed the paranormal expert and doubted me:

[u/VoiceSniffer: Ahhh, she’s talking. Did anyone notice her voice changed? It’s sharp and mean now. Wasn’t she always soft and sweet before?]

[u/RobotMeter: I never thought she was fake before, but now I really do. Did you notice her smile is forced, like a robot just learning how to smile?]

[u/AgreeBot: Hard not to agree with you.]

The other camp were skeptics, who didn’t believe in ghosts at all:

[u/FactChecker: You really believe that so-called "paranormal expert"? He was reported before for talking nonsense.]

[u/ChillViewer: Aren’t you all too sensitive? I don’t see anything weird about Lila.]

[u/DramaFatigue: Some people just love drama. Tyler already explained it was acting, why bring up spirits? No need.]

Moderator: keep it civil, folks.

I spotted a few of my loyal trolls defending me, which was weirdly comforting.

Seeing these comments, I breathed a sigh of relief.

At least some people supported me, so there was still room to turn things around.

I thought maybe I could ride this out. Maybe post a cute TikTok later.

But just as I was about to speak, the comments suddenly flooded with a new wave.

[u/TeaSpillLive: Wow, Savannah reposted that paranormal expert’s Instagram? Is she agreeing with him?]

[u/ScreenCapQueen: She deleted it in seconds, impressive. The scared main character comes out to confirm, so it really wasn’t acting. (too late, girl; we got receipts)]

[u/HotSeatNow: So exciting, I love this. @Lila Whitaker, explain yourself, you fake person.]

I stared at the comments, my face growing darker. Then I looked at Savannah. She was looking at me triumphantly, her phone screen glowing.

She gave me a little wave, like she’d just checkmated me. Petty didn’t even begin to cover it.

A blatant provocation—she wanted to crush me with public opinion.

I met her gaze, and seeing her smug expression, I forced a stiff smile and ended the stream.

The phone beeped as I shut it off. My heart was pounding, but I kept my face blank.

Before going offline, I said to the camera:

"Settling a personal grudge."

I let the words hang, hoping to sound mysterious. Maybe it’d buy me some time.

No matter how much she messed with me before, I could laugh it off, but today she went too far. I couldn’t let it go.

This wasn’t just a PR war anymore. This was survival.

Because this concerned whether I could return to the afterlife. Showing my true form in the living world is a huge taboo. If someone sees and believes it, I’ll be severely punished.

Dad always said, “We don’t break the masquerade.”

If I can bluff my way out, fine. But if anyone believes I’m a spirit, I’ll be tortured in the afterlife.

The punishment is legendary. Even the bravest spirits shudder at the thought.

Savannah really has no bottom line—even willing to get me erased in the afterlife.

I clenched my fists. If she wanted a fight, she was about to get one.

I pulled Savannah’s consciousness into my own mind space—basically a shared dreamscape spirits can yank people into. We spirits can’t reveal ourselves in the living world, but in our own space, we can appear however we want.

It was like flipping a switch. Suddenly, we were somewhere else—my turf.

Since Savannah wanted to destroy me, I had to pay her back in kind.

I probed to find what Savannah feared most and brought it into my space, and called over a few spirit friends from the afterlife.

They came quick—always down for a little haunting.

Because I’m formless in the afterlife, all my friends are spirits who don’t fit in with the rest.

We were the misfits, the ones who never got invited to the fancy afterlife balls.

Why don’t they fit in? Only one reason.

Their deaths were so gruesome that even ordinary spirits are terrified of them.

They made the Boogeyman look like a mall Santa.

Afraid Savannah would be scared to death, I only called Headless Annie and Quartered Mike.

They were my besties. Annie could juggle her head like a soccer ball and hum creepy lullabies; Mike was always cracking dark jokes about being in pieces, and his stitches creaked when he moved.

As their names suggest, one is headless, the other is stitched together after being drawn and quartered.

They waved, grinning. Annie tossed her head from hand to hand, humming softly. Mike winked, his stitches creaking like a haunted door.

After everything was ready, I kicked Savannah in.

She tumbled in, screaming. I sat back with popcorn, ready for the show.

Then I lay outside the space, watching the show.

My feet up, arms behind my head, I watched the scene unfold like it was my favorite Netflix binge.

Savannah appeared in a deserted rural town. She looked around and suddenly started to panic:

The sky was gray, the streets empty. A single swing creaked in the wind. Savannah spun in circles, her breath coming fast.

"Where am I? How did I suddenly end up here?"

She shouted for a long time, but no one answered, so she started cursing me:

Her voice echoed off empty buildings. She stomped her feet, her face red with rage.

"Lila, Lila! Is it you? What do you want? Let me out of this godforsaken place..."

She sounded more desperate by the second. The fear was real.

"Savannah? Why are you yelling? Dinner’s ready, come eat."

An older woman in a faded flannel appeared, dragging a cart of hay.

She looked tired, but her eyes were kind. Savannah froze, her mouth dropping open.

The moment Savannah saw the woman, she collapsed in terror:

She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach. Her voice was a whisper.

"Mom...? Why are you back...?"

This woman was actually Savannah’s real mother?

The resemblance was there, in the jawline and the tilt of her nose. I leaned in closer.

But hasn’t Savannah always claimed to be a pampered heiress?

Online, she bragged about luxury vacations and designer handbags. This didn’t fit the narrative.

"Savannah, what are you talking about? Why can’t I come back?"

The woman stopped the cart and walked toward Savannah.