You stared at the kitchen wall, listening to the wind howling outside as the rain from earlier had turned to a blizzard. The house was cold and your teeth chattered.
Ramsay slammed a thin box on the table and you screamed in fright, looking over at him.
He gave a dark laugh and pushed the box toward you. It was old and battered. You made out the word ouija. You frowned and pushed the box away.
"I told you, I won't use it."
"You will." Ramsay said coldly, pulling the lid off and dropping it to the floor.
You stared at the wooden board inside, a chill running down your spine. "No. I won't."
Ramsay made a violent movement as though he was going to hurt you, but stopped and sat across the table from you. "We need answers."
"There's no guarantee that we will get answers. Whatever talks b
