She’s there again. Hovering scant inches from outside my window. Making faces, looking in. I can’t stand it and she isn’t the first.
Mother and father passed away long ago, long before I can remember. All I have to keep me company is my inner voice, if I can quell its anger.
Some days it's easier than others, some days no one appears at the window at all. When they do, though, there’s no one to tell.
No one to cry to about the scary things mocking me through my window.
She’s doing it again. She’s lighting a candle. She’s looking in again. She’s saying my name. She won’t shut up. Maybe I’ll make her. Say it one more time bitch. Say Bloody Mary.
Edit: [As read by DeadJosey](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xD_fCEkXqIE)