Q and A

The attic air grows cold enough to see the girls' breath, a swirling mist illuminated by the erratic flicker of the dying candles. The planchette doesn't just slide anymore; it pulses under their fingers with a raw, muscular energy that makes the board creak.

Chloe leans in, her eyes wide as she processes the word 'PARTNER' pulsing toward Jessica. She clears her throat, her voice trembling. "Mack... if Jessica is a partner... what about Jason? Is he part of this too?"

The planchette sits still for a heart-stopping second, then lunges across the board with a sharp, dismissive wooden clack. 'T-O-O-L'

Chloe blinks, her face flushing. "My tool? Like... for the website?"

The planchette circles the word 'TOOL' with increasing speed, almost vibrating off the wood, before sliding to 'E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E-S'

Jessica lets out a sharp, jagged laugh, her fingers tightening on the planchette. "He's a tool, Chloe. A prop. Mack is saying he’s just a piece of the set."

Kenzie, her face pale in the candlelight, looks at the board with a mix of awe and a strange, budding protectiveness. She’s thinking about the irony of the last few days—the way the house has shifted under her father’s feet. "Mack... why did you do it? Why did you make my dad pay Mike for Mom's training?"

The planchette doesn't move immediately. It drifts in a slow, lazy figure-eight, almost as if you are chuckling to yourself in the shadows. Then, it snaps to the each letter. 'F-U-N-N-Y'

The girls freeze. The honesty of the answer—the sheer, dark whimsy of it—shatters the tension. Chloe snorts, a hand flying to her mouth. "It is funny," she whispers, her eyes darting to Kenzie. "I mean, Dad is such a... he’s so stuck in his ways. Seeing him hand over cash to the guy he should be worried about... it’s perfect."

"He has a sense of humor," Kenzie murmurs, her fear finally melting into a deep, fascinated affection. She looks up into the darkness of the rafters. "Mack? How did it happen? How did you... die?"

The planchette becomes heavy, moving with a sluggish, dragging weight that makes the board groan. It feels as if the memory itself is a burden you can barely lift. 'U-N-K-N-O-W-N'

A heavy silence falls over the attic. The girls feel the weight of your isolation, the mystery of your tether to this place. Kenzie reaches out with her other hand, her palm resting on the edge of the board as if trying to comfort the wood itself.

"Is there anything we can do?" she asks, her voice thick with emotion. "Anything we can do to help you?"

The board vibrates. The planchette moves with a sudden, surging power, pinning their fingers against the wood as it spells out a single, definitive command:

'L-I-V-E'

The candles all flare bright white for one brilliant second—illuminating the girls' flushed faces, the dusty mirror, and the sharp, hungry lines of the Ouija board—and then, they all snuff out at once.

The attic is plunged into absolute, velvety darkness.

"Live," Jessica’s voice whispers in the dark, sounding breathless and liberated. "He wants us to live."