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Dawn. I open my eyes, and find the sun's rays stinging them instantly. I quickly shut my eyes and cover my face with my arms. “I can never get used to the daytime,” I say to myself.

I finally throw the covers off of me, and sit up stretching my arms and legs. I get up and walk toward the window and look outside seeing people coming home and walking out of their houses to go to work or whatever destination it may be. I close the shade, and walk out the door after grabbing my robe.

I couldn't believe what happened the other night. The thing was, I couldn't believe how Anya acted: being all cold and all. I mean, she'd have to know that she was possessed by the spirit, and yet, she flipped it all around saying that whatever happened, didn't.

Reline and I didn't lose our minds that night; we know what we saw. I really hoped that he went back to where he came from, whether it be Heaven or Hell. We didn't know what we were screwing around with, and last night proved that whatever we experienced will NEVER happen again. I go into the kitchen and pour me a cup of coffee to wake me up a little. For a second, it didn't feel like I was alone. In fact, it felt as though there was someone watching me . . .

I didn't think anything else of it, so I went back to drinking my coffee. “Ahh, what the hell?” I say to myself, when I felt a crisp breeze blow against my ear. I look around only to find no one in particular behind me, or in front of me. “Maybe the window is open in the den...yeah, that's it...”

I say to myself once more, forgetting the fact that it's 83 degrees and humid outside. Am I losing it? Have all of my marbles escaped the satchel? Maybe I'm just clearly hallucinating. Yes, that's it. Or the fact that I didn't get much sleep last night because of what happened. Maybe THAT'S what's making me feel a bit fidgety.

“Avangellina...”

Now, I KNOW I'm not losing it. Now I know I'm not alone. He's still here in my home, and all this time I thought he went back to his grave. I guess I was wrong. I get up, and look around to see if I saw anything out of the ordinary: an unfamiliar face, an item from the spirits' time, anything.

Nothing. Just his lingering voice. “Avangellina...do you remember me...?” “Who's there?!” I cry out with fear and strength loomed in my voice. Silence. “Who are you? What do you want?” I back away as if someone is approaching me, and yet no one was there.

“I am the one your friend called upon. The one that pressured you...”

“Dwaine.”

It was him, but where in the hell was he? “Where are you? Why are you still here?” “I am in your mind, Avangellina. I'm in a complete safe haven, and I like my stay here.” “Get out of my head, please...” I say in a weak tone whilst I grabbed my head. “I cannot do that. Not unless you really want me to.” “I DO want you to! What makes you think you can just infiltrate people's minds, huh? Answer me that!” “I've found an interest in you.”

Great. Out of all the men in all the free world, THIS one has to be 500 years old, and dead. And now, he won't leave me alone. “I do not believe that you want me gone, my dear.” I started to get angry at him. How can this per—spirit tell me what I want and what I don't want? Why can't he just leave me be? “Because I know that you care for me,” he said, knowingly reading my every thought. “What are you doing?” Suddenly, I felt myself being pushed forward, and I lean against the table. I feel soft hands brushing against the back of my neck.

“Now...I am here with you...and I'm not planning on leaving here anytime soon.” I turn around and I see a man standing before me wearing clothing from the Renaissance. His hair was cut short, and his eyes were a light honey brown; the kind of eyes that you can get lost in. He was in opacity; see through, and I couldn't touch him. "Avangellina. Until you say it...until you really mean the words, “leave me alone,” then I shall do it. But I know in your heart, you don't want me to.”

He's putting me up for an emotional challenge. Is this a joke? Of COURSE I want him to leave me alone. More than ever, because this is freaking me out! I mean, I can see the headlines now: “Young Floridian Committed.” What was I to do?

“Dwaine, I want you gone. Leave my home, and don't ever come back again.” I say in a forced, stern tone. “As you wish, my dear.” With a last glance, and a bow, he disappears from the kitchen. I slid against the wall wiping my brow. “Thank Goodness that's over,” I thought. Never again will I hear from the lost soul of Dwaine Ciscough. I was free, and my mind was no longer possessed.

Or so I thought.