She was fucking perfect.
The voice in my head was new.
I was no longer in my own body.
I’m used to body hopping, as it’s a family tradition, especially when we get older. Grammy calls it our rite of passage. We were bound to souls just like ours.
When I was a little kid, my grammy held each of my sibling’s hands and told them they were going to inhabit beautiful souls; ones that were full of hope. Maki, my little sister, was reassured that she would find a boy who needed her help with finding himself. While Jun, my older brother, would find solace in an old soul scared of leaving their family behind, and finding peace. It was fun to watch their eyes light up with excitement at the idea of gently enveloping with another soul. We were told not to be scared.
It was completely normal, even if the thought of leaving our bodies was scary to me when I was little. Mom’s explanation was that family, and our ancestors’ souls had always been “loose” which gave us the ability to temporarily find new bodies.
My ancestors used this ability to heal sick people, both in body and mind, dragging them from mental turmoil. I still remember sitting in front of my eighty three year old Grammy, eagerly anticipating my future.
When she reached out and took my hands, she jolted like she’d had an electric shock. Her eyes flickered open, wide, and terrified. “Only the wrong ones,” was what my grammy had told me through a hissed out breath.
She let go of my hands, shuffling back, her fragile body hitting the ground before she could get away. When she started screaming at me, both in English, and then in Japanese, Mom rushed in to gently pull me away so she could calm down. But grammy never calmed down. She followed us, struggling to keep herself upright, trembling, her wide eyes glaring at me.
She was… accusing.
Like I had done something… or was yet to do something.
My soul did not become loose until last night.
I gave up waiting for it, trying to ignore my brother and sister talking endlessly about their travels around the world, after gaining control of their ability, and soul-hopping to every lost or confused mind silently reaching out to them.
I never understood what either of them meant when they told me of the sensation of being wrapped in warmth, emotions and memories lulling them, easing them inside a soul.
Because all I felt was… nothing.
Have you ever inhabited a body that feels nothing for both themselves and the people around them? She was numb.
This body had intelligence, but beyond that, beyond an almost crafty way of problem solving, and not enough problems to solve, there was nothing, a deep, dark cavern inside her mind. My Grammy’s words started to make sense.
Her terror when touching my hands and seeing into my soul, and the future one I would take over. This girl did not have a name– or she did, but it had been drowned out, suffocated by her thoughts penetrating me like tiny knives. She was filled with excitement that I didn’t understand. Perfect. She said, and then in a sing-song voice, “So perfect! So cute! Oh my god, I want to squeeze her cheeks! So naive! Dumb!”
Her mind was a tumultuous storm cloud of everything and nothing, but there was no emotion I could cling onto, just like Mom had told me to.
If I found love or pain, or even a stray memory, I would be able to anchor myself to the soul, no matter how wrong they were. But this girl didn’t have a memory to hold onto, or an emotion I could confide in. Instead, there was… I could feel her mouth–now my mouth–watering, saliva pooling from her lip and down her chin. Hungry.
No, starving.
I had no way to adjust myself, already bleeding inside her no matter how hard I tried to fight back, battling the vicious, seeping black shadow suffocating her. Grammy had always talked to us about something called bad intention. We can see it. We can see the start of a bad thought or a bad action, a lust or a hunger. I have only ever seen it it in small doses. I saw the cloud hanging over the kids in my class, smiling widely at our class hamster.
I saw it in my aunt when she was crossing the road with me, after having an argument with my uncle.
This, however, was not bad intention.
No, she had already carried it out.
I blinked her eyes, struggling to ease myself inside her limbs.
Her thoughts seeped into my mind, poison streaking through me.
This girl’s voice was louder than mine, already the dominant one, despite me being the one entwined around her. Hannah! Her internal monologue squeaked. She’s quiet and a little timid, wearing a polite smile that didn’t know how to say no. Which is perfect.
Mid twenties. Also perfect.
Probably has a toxic relationship with her family, since she was hesitating to share her parents details on the phone. She arrived on our doorstep with wide, curious eyes– like a deer caught in headlights. She complimented our hallway, commenting on the decor.
I proudly remarked that the house was a perfect mix of modern rustic and ancient, a cheap and yet comfortable place to stay.
She’s impressed with the aesthetic, nodding and smiling at the stupid cat photos I put up as a nice touch. I can’t tell if she’s a millennial or Gen Z. Her naive attitude and patchy clothing choices says millennial, but I’m reaching more towards Gen Z. The girl has awkwardly said, “Like, for real” in three different tangents which either went nowhere, or I had to laugh off.
“Hey!” I settled her with a grin, cutting off her random rant. Something about the traffic being bad, I honestly do not give a fuck. “You’re Hannah!”
Hannah nodded with her own awkward smile. She cocks her head, and I can glimpse an embarrassed blush blossom across her cheeks. She regretted ranting about traffic, definitely.
The way she fidgets, her fingers going to her hair, and then the zipper on her jacket, tells me she’s a nervous person. “Uh, yes! I spoke to you on the phone about moving in? I just came to check the place out,” she blinked, and the girl who’s body I was inhabiting, was practically vibrating with elation, her voice once again taking over mine.
Fake smile. Faker voice.
Sooo cute! She’s like a doll!
Her inner monologue continued, dripping with bad intention.
The second I stepped inside that house, I could smell it, hanging in the air and dripping off of every surface. Grammy told us to avoid that stink like the plague. She didn’t tell us what it meant as little kids, but as I hung around in her body, following the bouncing girl excitedly showing Hannah each room shadowed in the dark, I knew exactly what she meant. Hannah was in danger.
Whoever these people were, had already planned out her murder in vivid detail, to a fucking T.
I could already see where this girl was planning on laying plastic wrap on the flooring, to avoid blood splatters.
Again, I tried to retract from this psycho, but the harder I pulled away, the closer this damaged mind and soul enveloped me. Until my thoughts were no longer mine. They were hers, while her mind spiralled, and I was stuck.
I was stuck inside the vicious rotating oblivion, her words slamming into me.
Hannah wanted to meet the others, and I was like, what kind of housemate would I be if I refused?
Besides, this girl was like, super dumb. Perfect to fuck with. She didn’t ask questions, like, “Why is there no carpet in the lounge? or “Hey, so, is there a reason why your welcome mat has been scrubbed squeaky clean?”
Nah, it was oblivious shit like, “So, how long have you guys lived here?”
To which I had gleefully replied with, “Not long actually! But, hey, we’re already preeeety close! Like a family!”
Hannah smiled warmly at that.
Found family– or at least the thought of it–always drew in lost boys and girls.
I showed her the kitchen, where Jonas, housemate number one, was on his laptop, frowning at the screen. I made my presence known, introducing our guest. “This is Hannah,” I told him with a wink. “She’s coming to check out the empty room.”
“Run.” Jonas said, with a chuckle.
I threw a cushion at him, and, being him, he hurled one back with maximum velocity. When he jumped up to kick my ass with another larger cushion, my gut twisted at what Hannah might see if she turned her head at just the right angle. Luckily for me though, Jonas gave up, instead shooting me a teasing smile and drawing his finger across his throat. Hannah surprised me by laughing at that, and I remembered how much of a good actor my boy was.
Damn. He could really pull off a performance.
Jonas offered her a nod, and then shot me a be nice look, to which I returned a, Me? When have I not been nice? one back. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop. Wrong angle. Hannah’s curious eyes were on him, while mine were waiting for her to see it. I blocked it out most of the time, but when we had guests, or when he was turned a certain way, you could totally see it if you were looking for it.
Jonas shooed us away with a promise to cook dinner, and went back to typing. Jonas’s Macbook was still broken, a splintered spider web of glass and plastic staring back at him.
He was going to get tired of reading that unfinished email at some point, right?!
Next, the lounge area, where Maddie and JJ were sitting in front of the television, watching some Netflix drama I had no interest in. I did a quick tour, making sure Hannah didn’t stand in certain spots, and turned her attention to the modern decor, when her eyes went tor the ceiling. Maddie and JJ were housemates two and three. The two of them tossed me weary glances, smiling politely at our hopefully new addition. JJ pulled her into a hug, being his usual clingy and teddy bear like self, while Maddie stood by with a shy grin.
“Where did you get the stray?” JJ commented with a laugh, and I shrugged, offering him the finger instead of an answer.
Hannah had already taken interest in JJ. His handsome smile and thick, dark brown hair falling in sleepy eyes. I had to make sure she didn’t look at him for too long. With Jonas, it was easier.
I could just tell him to wear a hat.
But JJ stuck out in plain sight. I waited for Hannah to notice what I had been struggling to hide, but her gaze also kept flicking to the nervous Maddie, who was thankfully more of a showoff in that room. Which took the heat off of JJ, and his… problem. With bright red hair pulled into a clumsy ponytail and doe-like eyes, this girl could attract anyone. I could already see she was panicking about what to say and do, but I easily introduced her to Hannah, and the two of them meshed well.
Both of them were vegans, and had a soft spot for potted plants.
When Hannah asked to see upstairs, I nodded enthusiastically. I had done this three times already, a fourth would be a piece of cake. “Sure!” I hopped up each step, shifting the carpet ever so slightly with the heel of my foot, so the red smears on the stairs weren’t too noticeable. Jonas had made a real mess when I’d pushed him from the top stair, a nail sticking out of the floorboards going straight through his head.
Ouch.
He’d gone down like a sack of potatoes, tumbling down the first few steps. I thought he was already a goner, with the sickening, lucious sound of his neck snapping– but then he hit the hallway in a heap, head first, a particular long and rusty nail slicing straight through him.
Stop.
I couldn’t stand it. Her voice was so loud, so invasive!
She wouldn’t get out of my head.
And I couldn’t escape her, these sickening thoughts twisted and tangled.
In and out, perfectly perforating skin, cartilage and bone. His Macbook was next to him, the barely surviving screen still displaying the email he was sending.
Hi, [LANDLORD]
I’m writing to you to express an issue we have with Amy. Each of us have expressed wanting to leave, as we have found an alternative place to stay. But Amy is not letting us leave. She has locked the door, and taken our phones, we need help, she’s a fucking crazy–
There was a giant blood spatter where his head had made contact with the screen.
I didn’t mean to bypass him on the stairs.
And my hands slipped!
Then my leg! Kicking him backwards.
Down, down, down he went!
He perfected, like, the most amazing cartwheel, and then a front flip.
“I like the pattern!” Hannah said, a little too over enthusiastically, for, I don’t know, a generic carpet pattern.
Her eyes were a little too wide, staring a little too hard at one in particular.
I stepped over another stain, maintaining my smile. This time it was a pretty bad one, scarlet ingrained into carpet fibres. I spent so long picking up tiny pieces of skull. They were like cat hairs. I thought they were gone, and then I was picking them off of the soles of my socks.
Amy.
My own thoughts began to drift back, seeping into fruition.
This psycho bitch’s name was Amy.
“Thanks!” I gestured further upstairs. “It’s just been deep cleaned, actually.”
I showed her the bathroom next.
Which was sparkling clean, obviously. It had taken me 4 days to fully dismember JJ’s body, and I was still finding smears of red. Our bathroom was still pretty, a large tub and shower, and a toilet in the corner. Above the lid, were the vomit stains after I’d taken the first slice. It wasn’t pretty.
Cutting through a human body was bad enough, and the head? It took me sawing to finally get the damn thing off.
With JJ, I got him in the shower. I mean, it’s not like I could explain Jonas being dead in the hallway. I wanted it to be very Psycho-esque, but instead, I couldn’t find a good enough knife to stab him, so I suffocated him with a towel. JJ was an orphan, anyway, so really, who would miss him? I was the only one who actually cared about him.
When he was too tall to dump, I had to get… creative.
And then I barfed up most of my stomach lining.
Hannah didn’t notice the greenish tinge on the tiles, instead picking up a rubber ducky, and making it hop across the edge of the tub.
Yeah, she was definitely going to fit in here.
I stood on a particular red splatter on the floor tiles, exactly where I sliced up JJ’s body, my smile growing wider.
When the tour was over, I made sure to crank the Alexa in the kitchen to the highest volume, to block out the unearthly wails coming from the basement. I might have had control of their physical bodies and minds, but their souls still cried out for help, sometimes banshee-like, splintering through the door doors. They wanted to move out, and I wasn’t going to let that happen. Following Hannah to the door, I couldn’t contain my excitement.
Maddy was close behind, and unlike the boys, I had to keep an eye on her. She had already tried to open the basement door. I managed to stop her, but only just. Maddy was a slippery one. I noticed her backing away slowly, before I reached out and grabbed her, yanking her by my side. It’s cute that she thinks she can fuck with me.
I gave her my sweetest smile.
“Maddy, it’s rude to ignore a guest.”
And ignoring her attempt at formulating words, I turned my attention to Hannah.
“What do you think?”
“I like it!” Hannah said excitedly, her voice finally allowing me, not Amy, to take full control. But I couldn’t move her lips, or try and thrust out my hands to stop her– to warn her. All I could do was take in the growing darkness choking the hallway, suffocating every living and dead soul in bad intention, as Amy’s thoughts plunged deeper and deeper. All she could think about was the knife she had specifically picked out for Hannah– and how perfectly the teeth of the blade would slide across her throat, opening her up just like a doll.
I caught JJ’s eye, his empty smile. He was unknowingly swimming in it, already being twisted out of shape.
“When can I move in?
Hannah’s smile grew with the idea of joining these guys, and Amy’s twitching fingers went to her back pocket, slowly wrapping around the handle.
There was that hunger again, that insatiable need clouding her thoughts.
I could feel myself already retracting from Amy’s soul, but she kept going, shooting a look at the others, who stood silently, eyes half lidded, lips sewed shut.
Now I could see the phantom chains around their wrists, binding them to the basement– and their real selves. Jonas’ head was twisted at an awkward angle which looked permently inclined, a bloody gash splitting the back of his head apart.
I could see where Amy had sliced through JJ’s torso, phantom stitches holding his head in place. They were crying out to me, screaming, their agony turning violent, a physical force knocking me backwards. The basement door trapping them inside rattled, phantom hands slamming into harsh wood, their wails cruelly stripped away, silenced.
Amy took pleasure in their pain, their desperate attempt to warn Hannah, who was completely oblivious to her fate.
The last thing I heard and felt was her voice, manicured fingers wrapping around the blade. “How about now?”
…
I can’t stop thinking about Hannah, and it was hard enough writing you Amy’s thoughts. They’re still haunting me.
I can’t find her soul, no matter how hard I try. I’m too scared to look for Amy’s.
I can’t find the house, or the location. I just know that somewhere in the world, there are three, possibly four murdered lost souls being held hostage.
And I can’t save them.