That stupid coathanger

What the fuck, this stuff is going to kill me, Irene thought dramatically. Her eyes quickly scanned the paragraph in the physics book, trying to memorise as much as possible. Thursday was going to be the test and she didn't feel the slightest bit ready; she knew that if she got another bad grade her average would go way down and that would piss off mum and dad.

At the very least, they would lock her up in her room for a century: so no seaside holidays with Cris, no going out and blah, blah, no phone, maximum concentration on studying.

Irene huffed, so she decided to get a pen and paper, and take notes...maybe she would do better.

Or maybe she could use those slips of paper to copy! She could do like Lina had done, who had hidden them in her bra, then with the excuse of going to the bathroom she would read them!

I am a genius, or rather an evil genius!

A smile grazed her lips.

Satisfied, she copied it all down.

She closed the book.

"Fuck you physics professor, you and your four!" she exclaimed loudly, throwing herself onto the sofa. Luckily, her parents could not hear her: they had gone to one of those insulting parties where all they did was discuss insulting topics and drink cheap wine.

Her mobile phone vibrated, Irene picked it up and saw Cris online on Whats'up.

Irene smiled and started typing.

"Help! Try tomorrow!"

"What?"

"Yes! Didn't you know?!"

"No, I've been working with my dad all day, so I haven't studied shit!"

"Shit, I've done some notes...I don't understand any of this stuff," Irene replied, even putting a thumbs-up emoticon.

"Tell me about it! I'm trying to do something now, maybe tomorrow I can cut it out and you know what the fuck I care," Cris wrote the laughing faces.

"Somehow, I'll manage."

"Tickets...huh? Send me a picture, then I'll copy them down"

"And then put them in your bra? Ah-Ah"

"You can always lend it to me :)"

"The bra?"

"That too! But I'm talking about the tickets!!!"

"And how are we going to do that?"

"Come to school first tomorrow and then we'll work out a plan."

"OK, I'll get some sleep now and then I'll get back to studying that shit."

Cris answered her with a thumbs up and a giggling face.

Irene put the phone down under her pillow and pulled the blanket over herself, closing her eyes.

She definitely didn't want to think about that stupid assignment tomorrow, so...what could she choose?

Maybe the good grade she was going to get? Nah!

To Cris's green eyes? He saw them every day at school!

Maybe to that dress she was waiting for at the sales? She was saving the money to buy it anyway...or a sunny, quiet beach, no teachers and no parents in the way, just her and Cris kissing....

A jacket fell to the floor with a slight rustle.

Annoyed Irene raised her head, and gave the jacket carrier a dirty look. She couldn't think of a reason why

mother found it so beautiful: the arms rose high like branches of a windswept tree that created furtive shadows when evening fell, the knobs looked like rotten fruit ready to fall.

That...thing had been a gift from that crazy Aunt Teresa for Christmas a few years earlier.

'Damn,' grumbled Irene, picking up her jacket.

She rearranged it and ran straight to the sofa, wrapped herself in the blanket.

Where were we?

Her thoughts focused on the beach and....

...fuck.

His attention turned to the all-black...and quiet jacket rack.

He blinked.

He realised he was cold so he got up and went to close the shutters.

She threw herself down on the sofa with her face pressed into the cushion. Maybe she was just tense from that fucking assignment! I hate physics!

The beach...yeah...the beach!

She tried to think...

A slight noise...like a crunch.

Irene turned her head.

Nothing.

Or had that shit thing moved?

There was that creaking noise again.

It sounded like little bones trying to settle...broken bones?

Irene felt her lungs squeeze,

Her eyes grew big.

Immobilized and with her fingers sunk into the leather of the couch, she watched the rack move slowly as one step at a time.

In jerks.

But did he have legs and arms? Long black hair, a curved back, and a face? The eyes?

Her mind registered that.

Irene let out a scream, tried to get up, but two hooked white hands, like those of witches in fairy tales, pinned her firmly on the couch and squeezed her throat cruelly.

She saw their eyes...were they...black?

She tried to scratch the air or perhaps her attacker.

She choked...

and...suffocating...

The phone vibrated. There was a message from Elena: "Ire, I left the Ouja board at your place the other day, the one they had a séance with three days ago? When can I come and pick it up?"