I stopped thinking of it as being her when it lunged for me and seeing it pick itself up after that fall, limbs all out of place and grey blood flowing like oatmeal from the cut on its head, scared me more than the sight of my dead friend come back to life.
It wasn't a ghost, that much I knew. Ghosts aren't physical beings and I managed to shove it away from me when it went for my throat. Ghosts don't bleed like it did when it fell and landed on the broken glass of the cups it threw across the floor a few moments before it manifested.
So that begged the question... what looks pale as a sheet, perfectly resembles a recently deceased person and knows more about you than anyone in your life - even things you'd only thought in your head when nobody else was around. What could vanish into thin air yet remain physical enough for you to touch?
Whatever it was, it wasn't her. Maybe it used to be her but the only part of her that hadn't changed was the dress the buried her in. Its skin looked like all the life had been drained away but its eyes were unnaturally sharp and followed me around the kitchen like a hawk watching a rabbit.
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