This morning, Randy showed up with dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't been able to sleep at all because he'd kept his eyes open.
He abandoned the idea of staying overnight in Mas Eko's room. The man had only moved in two days ago, and there were still belongings scattered all over the room. If Randy insisted on staying there, he had no idea where he would sleep.
So he held himself back and was forced to sleep in his own room. He endured his fear even though no figure came to scare him. Until morning, he only managed to doze lightly, and as a result, the bags under his eyes had gotten even worse.
Randy entered the classroom and laid his face down on the small desk attached to his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment before the English lecturer arrived, overcome by exhaustion.
“Ran! Randy!”
He blinked, then sat up from his position and stretched. Looking around, he saw everyone staring at him.
“Miss Ria’s calling you!”
He squinted and looked at whoever was speaking to him. It was Yasmin, who was pointing at Miss Ria standing at the front of the classroom.
Randy panicked, hurriedly pulled himself together, and sat up straight.
“Go! She’s been waiting for you,” Yasmin said, lightly smacking his shoulder.
“What does she want?” Randy whispered nervously. What if he had fallen asleep while the young lecturer was teaching? His grade could end up suffering.
“Don’t know. Just go. Good luck!”
Randy snorted, especially when Yasmin stuck her tongue out at him. He trudged after Miss Ria, who had already left the classroom.
Miss Ria led him to a seat in the college cafeteria. She remained silent for a while before finally speaking.
“So … what have you been up to lately?”
“What do you mean, Miss?” Randy asked, confused about why Miss Ria was suddenly asking him that.
“Does your back still hurt?”
Randy raised one eyebrow. How did Miss Ria know that his back had hurt yesterday? Had she suddenly become a fortune-teller?
“Answer me, Randy!”
“Yes, but … how did you know?”
“I was just guessing. And have you been writing a story lately? I mean, on social media, like Facebook?”
“Huh?” Randy gaped. “How did you know that too?”
Ria sighed and pulled her phone from the pocket of her skirt. “Then my guess was right. You’re the one who wrote this story, aren’t you?”
Miss Ria’s phone displayed one of Randy’s social-media pages. It showed the story he had written a few days ago in a Facebook writing group.
“Randy, you might think I’m strange.” Miss Ria lowered her phone onto the table after Randy nodded, admitting that he was the one behind the account that had posted the story.
“I … can see spirits.”
Silence.
Randy sat there quietly, not knowing what to say. He blinked at Miss Ria. “What do you mean, Miss?”
“There was something hanging from your back yesterday. It came because you wrote a story about it. That’s why it haunted you, made your back hurt, and, to make matters worse, since I can see that creature, I was affected by it too.”
“So …?”
“It wants you to write the true story of what happened to it, because the story you wrote isn’t accurate.”
“Wait! You mean the story about the woman’s tragic death from the story titled The Abandoned House’s Haunting that I wrote?”
Miss Ria nodded. “You might think I’m crazy for telling you this. But that figure showed me what really happened before her tragic death, and it … was the exact opposite of the story you wrote.”
Randy’s eyes widened. “The story I wrote was based on a true story from rumors about an abandoned house near my home, Miss. It was about a woman named Alia who committed suicide and became a vengeful spirit after cheating on her husband, with a sex tape of the affair spreading across social media.”
“Did you research the story to find out whether it really happened?”
“I heard it from people who claimed they had witnessed Alia’s death firsthand.”
Ria shook her head. “Then you got the wrong information, because the truth is … Alia didn’t commit suicide.”
“She didn’t commit suicide?” Randy repeated incredulously. The story that had circulated all this time claimed that Alia had cheated on her husband and then killed herself.
Afterward, the police didn’t investigate any further because Alia’s husband asked them not to.
“How does Miss Ria know?”
“I already told you. I can see spirits. This may be hard to believe, Randy, but … Alia’s spirit showed me how she died.”
Randy’s brows furrowed as he listened to what he thought was a rather strange story. Yes, he was a horror writer. But hearing a story like that firsthand felt a little strange.
“Miss, you’re not joking, are you?”
“Do I look like I’m lying?”
Randy sighed. He looked at Miss Ria’s face, which showed no sign of deceit.
“Then tell me what really happened to Alia when she died, if she really showed you.”
“All right, I’ll tell you. But I’m not ordering you to believe everything I saw or to accept that it really happened.
“I only want you to listen and think more clearly. What happens afterward is up to you. Because now Alia’s spirit isn’t just following you—it’s following me too.”