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The rain beat against the roof of the car in a steady drum, the comforting sound contrasting with the unfamiliar scenery flashing past them. The inside of the car was warm despite the storm outside, slightly muggy and humid. Yet, that didn’t stop the other passenger from sleeping peacefully in the backseat.
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The sound of his deep breaths accompanying the faint buzz of the car radio made for a satisfying white noise. It made her want to pull over and squeeze into the backseat with Wren. She was so tired, and even with the beads of sweat collecting on the back of her neck, the idea of cuddling up with him didn’t lose its appeal.
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Tired eyes on the road, Joan blamed her lack of awareness of the increasing number on hours that she hadn’t slept. As the night grew darker and started creeping closer to morning, her eyes only grew heavier.
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That was the excuse she had for not noticing when things began to shift.
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A haziness bordered the edges of her vision, and no matter how hard she blinked, it wouldn’t go away. She should’ve known by now that nothing she could do would stop it.
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Everything was muffled. Quiet. It was like cotton had been shoved into her ears. The only thing she could clearly hear was a voice.
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It was happening again.

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She ignored it.

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Looking at them, talking to them -- playing into their games -- would only make it worse. At least, that was what she told herself.
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Most of the time though, it barely seemed like they needed any input from her to find new material to torment her with.
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She had quickly decided that the nightmares she was forced to witness were nothing compared to when those same twisted creatures haunted her when she was awake. It didn’t matter what she was doing; they would begin their assault indiscriminately. From things as mundane as whispering in her ears while she was trying to read a book - to as terrifying as wrapping invisible hands around her throat when she was in the middle of a large crowd, trying their hardest to squeeze the life out of her.
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And when she checked in the mirror, she was allowed a split second to the peer at the fruits of their labour before they promptly disappeared. Like they were never there to begin with. Because she was the only one who could see them.
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When the muggy air in the car dropped to chilling, she knew it was coming.
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Joan felt it before she saw anything. Pale, translucent hands trailing slowly up her arms, drawing invisible lines between freckles and scars as they leisurely made journey up and down the length of her skin.
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The gesture almost looked affectionate.

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But everything the hands touched, left behind ugly marks. At first, they bloomed a gentle purple everytime pale fingertips brushed over heated skin. Then the bruise aggressively spread, creeping over her skin -- growing and growing -- like an infection. And the soft bruises darkened into a sickly pitch black.
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Eventually the hands clasped her own, tenderly threading their fingers together and forcing Joan into holding the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip.
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She felt the phantom sensation of lips against her ear, feather light and so, so cold. Joan couldn't stop the way her heart clenched painfully in her chest.
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"You're so fuckin' fake, Jojo. You think running is going to do anything? You think loving this boy will change anything? You think you can get away from that town, from me?" The harsh laughter that immediately followed the scathing words made her flinch in her seat. The steering wheel creaked underneath her fingers.
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"You're stupider than I thought."
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She couldn’t respond, she couldn’t reply. No matter how familiar the voice was, no matter how she could already picture the face belonging to it - she couldn’t look. She knew it wasn’t her. It wasn’t Roxy. Because Roxy was dead.
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"Why won't you join me? Don't you miss me, Jojo? Or did you never love me in the first place? You’re just a fuckin’ liar-"
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"Joan!"
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Everything was immediately snapped into focus, the sudden clarity making her jump. The sound rushed back; raindrops falling against the top of the car, the radio buzzing and the deafening beat of her heart in her ears. [break][break]


She looked back down at her arms.
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The marks were gone.

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