The unnerving tone of her voice, the words that were spoken by his brother’s spirit through the woman’s lips… He couldn’t think of them without growing queasy. He tore into the fifth of gin in his top kitchen cabinet and hammered a mouthful. It stung his throat, and it did shit to clear his head. The greasy feel of his skin made him want to bathe. He felt like a criminal with blood on his hands. He’d witnessed the old woman literally come apart. Pricilla knew of his brother’s death and the secrets he kept beyond the grave. It was a lot to believe, but he couldn’t deny what he witnessed. The demands from his brother were clear: destroy the film projector and the house. Now he was worried about Andy. He’s up in that house all alone. If something happens to him, nobody will know. “It’s nonsense,” he muttered to himself, falling back to the safe place called denial. He chugged another mouthful of gin, the sides of his mouth trickling with the liquor. “It can’t be true.
