He spun around and fell to the ground. The room around him started spinning. He felt sick to his stomach and he covered his face with his hands. Suddenly he heard laughter and voices around him. “I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy,” he said to himself. The laughter continued. “But you are crazy, you’ve lost your mind, you’re on the verge of being committed,” continued the voices. He rolled over onto his stomach and crawled into the bathroom. He reached up and grabbed the sink and used it to stabilize his balance. He looked into the sink for a moment, ready to throw up, hands on both sides of the sink. He lifted his head up and looked into the mirror placed above the sink. His face was all cut up. He could see the door behind him, standing wide open. He turned the faucet on and bent down again, throwing cold water onto his face. He looked up into the mirror and a pale white figure slid by the door. He gasped and wheeled around, facing the door. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered to himself. Sweat was dripping off his black hair and running down his forehead. He was shaking violently, and was feeling cold. He could feel it all around him. His heart was pounding tremendously. Suddenly, he heard a loud pounding coming from the next room. He heard glass breaking, and the voices continued tormenting him. “Oh, please make it stop,” he cried. He knelt down to the ground and crawled out of the bathroom. The door slammed behind him. He jumped and got up, running behind the couch. It was dark all around him. He looked down beside him where he was crawled up and he found the knife. He reached for it, but it moved away. He looked down at his wrist, which had four or five cuts. Medicine prescription pills were lying all around him. “Give me my knife,” he cried. “You can’t have it,” said a child’s voice. The knife was suddenly lifted up and was hovering in mid-air. Then, it suddenly flew through the air as if it had been thrown. It soared through the air and stuck into the wall. “Get away from me,” he screamed. “Get out of my head!” “But we’re not in your head, or are we?” giggled the child’s voice. The other voices laughed. “Leave me!” he screamed. “We won’t leave you,” said the voices. “We’re your best friends!” He screamed then suddenly fell back, unconscious.

Sunshine crept into the window as morning approached. He woke up from his place on the floor behind the couch, the knife still in the wall. He stretched and yawned. The place was unusually quiet. He stood up and walked into the bathroom. He stood before the sink and looked into the mirror. His eyes were all red and bloodshot. His hair was matted down. He turned to the side and faced the bathtub. He pulled the shower curtain aside and suddenly flew back. A woman was hanging from the ceiling with a noose around her neck. Her face was pale white, blood was dripping from her mouth, and her eyes were rolled back into her head. He screamed and raced out of the bathroom, heading towards the exit from his apartment. He grabbed a blue button-up shirt from the floor, threw it around himself, opened the door, quickly slipped on his untied sneakers, and ran out of there as fast as his legs would carry him.

He ran down the street screaming. His heart was pounding and he was scared out of his mind. He suddenly stopped and bent over, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Max,” cried the voices. “Come home now.” “NOOO!” he cried. He took off running again. He heard laughter behind him. He suddenly felt sick and he looked up into the sky. “Come home Maxie…I miss you,” said the child’s voice. Max uttered a small cry then looked in front of him. A little girl of about 6 stood there. She was wearing a white dress drenched in blood. Her face was pale white. She took a step toward him. He took a step back then noticed she was carrying his knife. She held it up to him, pointing the blade at his throat. “You have to come home now!” she screamed. Max gasped and turned, running in the opposite direction. He looked behind him. The little girl was gone. He turned off into an alleyway and pressed his back against the wall of a building. “I need to get some help,” he said to his self. “But what…?” Then he looked across the street, the answer suddenly became clear.

“SLIMER!”
“What did he do now, Peter?”
“Gee, I guess you can’t really tell from all the slime that’s dripping off of me!”
“He just loves you Peter.”
“Yeah, and I’ll love him as soon as I’ve nuked his ass!”

Slimer gulped and raced through the wall. Peter threw his proton pack on his back and took off after him. “Come back here you ball of pond scum!” Peter roared. Slimer flew into the kitchen, Peter ran in, firing his particle thrower. Dishes smashed from the blast and glasses fell to the floor and broke. Slimer screamed and the other Ghostbusters came running in. Below, on the first floor, Janine sat at her desk, undistracted from the ruckus up above. Suddenly, the front door opened and Max stepped in. He walked across the floor uneasily to Janine, who was filing her nails. “Excuse me,” he interrupted. “SLIMER, YOU’RE GOIN DOWN!” screamed Peter as more crashes were heard. “Umm, this is the Ghostbusters right,” Max asked Janine. Janine looked up. “Yes it is. How may we help you?” “I need some help,” replied Max as more crashes were heard again. Janine looked up at the ceiling. “So do they,” said Janine, pointing a finger up at the ceiling. Max chuckled to himself. “This is really important, I need to talk to somebody.” He said. Suddenly, Slimer came flying down the steps being chased by Peter. Egon, Ray, and Winston followed. “Egon, this guy wants to see you,” said Janine. “Ah,” said Egon, walking up to Max. “Hello, I’m Dr. Spengler of the Ghostbusters…. what’s the problem?” “I’m being haunted. I can’t sleep at night, they keep me awake, they laugh at me and torment me,” explained Max. “Maybe you need a psychologist,” Peter chimed in, out of breath from chasing Slimer. “No,” said Max. “I’ve been to those, trust me, this is not all in my head.” “I suggest we check it out,” said Egon, straightening his glasses. “Max can stay here.”

The door to Max’s apartment swung open. The Ghostbusters walked in and looked around. Prescription bottles lay all over the floor and there were knife marks in the walls. “Well, it’s official,” said Peter. “This guy is definitely strung out on something.” Egon bent down and picked up one of the bottles. “These are anti-depressants Peter,” he said. Suddenly, there was a maniacal laugh and the little girl came walking out of the bathroom. “Where is Max,” she demanded. “He needs to come home now!” “Um…. he’s out shopping,” said Peter. “Liar!” the little girl screamed. Suddenly, knives hovering in mid-air appeared out of nowhere. Ray gulped. “Go get Max,” she screamed. “I suggest we run,” whispered Peter to Egon. The little girl pointed her finger at them. The door slammed shut behind them and the knives took off at full speed at them. Peter and Ray dove off to the right and Egon and Winston rolled off to the left as the knives stuck in the door. “Well, so much for that, we’re stuck here now,” said Peter, lying on his back on top of Ray. The voices laughed and started repeating, “You’ll never survive, you’ll never survive!” “Hmm, maybe the kid’s the one we outta bust,” said Winston. “She seems to be the leader and the one the gives Max most of the trouble.” Suddenly, the little girl started screaming, actually roaring like a huge monster. All the Ghostbusters suddenly felt sick. “Get out now!” roared the girl. “Bring Max to me!” “We’ll come back later guys,” said Egon, crawling to the door. “We need to get some details from Max..” The door opened and the Ghostbusters crawled out. The sick feeling faded and the door slammed shut behind him.

The Ecto-1 pulled up beside the firehouse. There was an ambulance and a few cop cars there. The Ghostbusters got out of the car and ran into the firehouse. Janine came running up to Egon, with her hands over her mouth. “What happened,” asked Ray. “Max had a seizure and died,” cried Janine. “Did he happen to give you any details of his cut-off life,” Peter chimed in. “Yeah,” Janine sniffled. “Well, what were..” “Drs. Stantz, Spengler, and Venkman?” a cop interrupted. “Yes,” they said at once. “Are you aware that Mr. Max Messon is a convicted killer?” the cop asked. “Umm…no,” said Peter. “Yeah, knocked off his daughter when she was six years old. Cut her all up until she died. Brutal. So, now he’s been on pills and cutting his wrists. He claims that she still haunts him, paying him back,” replied the cop. “I think we better get back there,” said Egon. “Right,” said Ray. The Ghostbusters got back into the Ecto-1 and drove off, back to Max’s apartment.

Peter pushed open the door. “Mom, I’m home!” he cried. The little girl came out carrying a knife. “You killed him,” she screamed. She threw the knife towards them and Peter caught it in his right forearm. He screamed in pain and fell backwards. The others reached for their particle throwers and charged them up. The girl disappeared and the room suddenly went dark. “After you, Ray,” said Egon, pushing him in the room. A crash was suddenly heard and the voices started laughing. Egon and Winston stepped into the apartment and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving Peter out in the hallway. Ray had wandered into another room of the apartment and the smell of blood was strong. He found his flashlight, tucked in his belt, and clicked it on. His eyes grew wide and he yelled. Blood was pouring from the ceiling onto the floor. Knives were stuck in the walls and the words “Welcome to Hell,” were finger-painted on the walls with fresh blood. Ray turned and ran out of the room.

Peter leaned up against the door, nursing his arm, the knife still in it. “Okay, this is gonna hurt like hell,” he said to himself. He grabbed a hold of the knife handle with his left hand, closed his eyes, and jerked it out. He screamed in pain then managed to get up and open the door, knife in hand.

Winston charged up his particle thrower. Egon was a few steps ahead of him. The apartment was still pitch dark. “Man, I suddenly don’t feel good,” he whispered to Egon. He leaned over and felt the wall with his hand. He felt something drip down his hand. He pulled away and grabbed his flashlight. He shone it on the wall. Blood was dripping and running down the wall. “What the hell’s goin on here,” he whispered to Egon. Suddenly, Egon was knocked to the floor. Winston jumped back and shone his flashlight on him. Ray was lying next to him. “Glad to have ya man, now all we gotta do is find Peter, get rid of the ghost, and get the hell outta here!” said Winston. Egon and Ray stood up, half covered in blood. The floor was covered. The voices started laughing again and the little girl appeared. “I want my knife back!” she screamed. “Here, you can have it,” said a voice from across the room. It was Peter, leaning against the wall. He flipped the knife in his hand, caught it by the blade and threw it at her. It soared through the air and the blade stuck through her chest. She roared and Peter fired his particle thrower at her. It caught her and Ray fired his too. Egon rolled the trap underneath her, through the blood. It opened and she was sucked in. The trap closed and suddenly, all the blood started to disappear and Peter’s arm healed. Winston picked up the trap. “How did you know the knife could destroy her,” he asked. “Because…. she wanted it so damn bad, so I figured, it might hurt her,” replied Peter. “I didn’t know you were good with knives,” said Ray. “Neither did I,” replied Peter. They turned and walked out the door. Another job well done.