Hey guys! Oh god, I'm excited for this honestly- I'm writing this with @xXCollarFullXx  , so please go check out their part!  They'll be writing Brendon's POV, while I'll be writing Dallon's! So please, go check them out!

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TW: Blood and gore

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I heard a scream from beside me, making me turn from the limp body in front of me. My blood-covered hands were shaking uncontrollably, my breathing out of control. I stared at the person who found me- my mother. Great.

Before I could even utter a word she screamed, obviously fixated on the dead body.

This wasn't the first time I had killed someone, no definitely not the first. This was just the first time someone caught me actually completing it. I'll be honest, this wasn't my best work. I got mad. Dammit- that's how it always starts. I get mad. God, I get so mad!

I don't understand why. I get why I do it, but I don't understand why I get so mad. I don't understand why-

But everywhere I go! Everywhere I go people stare at me like I'm crazy! They give me looks, make faces at me, and call me names. It's not fair! I haven't done anything- They've deserved it! They've died because of what they've done, that's on them. Not me.

I looked at my mother, not paying attention to many of the words she was yelling at me. I know she was scared, and she had every right to be.

"What are you doing? Why do you do this! This- this isn't the first time, isn't it? I can't believe you- My son-" There was a slight pause. "No, I can! You- you mary!" Before I could control myself, I lunged forward, stabbing the woman with the makeshift knife I was already holding. The knife was sharp, I made sure to sharpen it every time after I killed someone.

I've always been like this, I know that much. My parents are farmers, our family has always been farmers, ever since the puritans sailed over here. I've lived in Salem Village my whole life, my parents have too.

I have a memory of when I was a child. I sat outside in one of our fields, holding one of our roosters in my arms. God, I hated those things, they always would chase me around and try to peck at my head. So it got what it deserved. It tried to hurt me, so I hurt it. I ended up killing it and started to- dissect it almost. While I was there, my father found me. Of course, he got upset with me, then dragged me inside and to my mother who seemed less pleased.

I had always been like that, that I know. As I got older, when my body started to change, my parents tried to set me up with this girl who lived next door. We had never been great friends, although we were forced to interact. She seemed to like me, but I had no interest in her. A few houses down from us, there was this boy. He had always been nice to me, which is why I liked him so much. He was handsome as well. Now I told my mom this, without knowing any better. Word spread, and people started to look at me differently. He stopped talking to me too.

Not long after I killed my mother, I realized what I did. Even though she made me mad, she was my mother. It threw me off. I didn't mean too- she was my mother! I ran away from my home, right through town. As I ran through town, covered in my family's blood, people started to follow me. I went to the gallows. There was a tree there, in an open field. Most of the time there was leftover rope, an empty noose. Lucky for me, there was.

I started to climb the tree, sleeping the rope over my neck. As I let go of the tree and fell, I saw him. All I could do was wave.

Halloween was quite interesting to me. I got to see children run past my, 'final resting place,' in different outfits, dressed up as things that I hadn't a clue what they were. I didn't understand it. It didn't quite start to take shape until the late 1800s, which was a little past my time. Yes, I was alive during the 1800s, right before the civil war.

Over the years, the cemetery I was buried in laid un-touched. Although I committed, apparently, unholy crimes, they still buried me in the same place as my mother, my father, and my sister when she eventually passed. I don't regret what I did in the past, I don't feel bad. I still believe, I still know that those people deserved it. Except for my mother. Oh, my poor mother...

I do know that my story got told well after I died. I was part of Salem's history. They wrote about it, they wrote about me and what I did. My grave was located in the corner of the cemetery. It wasn't near the others, it was alone. That was one thing I regretted, I was alone. I was a ghost, alone spirit per say, bound to stay near my grave.

I tried to lure people to me, but no one was ever naive enough, listening to their gut feeling. There was a book. I don't remember its origin, but its final resting place was in front of my grave. Inside, it mentioned different histories of the state. But the most interesting part of it was the section about myself.

Finally...

A younger boy slowly stepped over the barbed wire guarding the cemetery, looking around carefully. I smiled, slowly sliding off of the top of my headstone, standing next to it to watch him. The closer he got, the more details of his face I could see. He had dark brown, maybe black, hair, and brown eyes. Oh, he was handsome... And pretty soon, he'd be mine.

I watched him as he took notice of the book, walking over to it. It was Halloween night, and it was getting late. Because of the cemetery's location, it was one of the areas in the village to get dark first. I watched this boy with curiosity, unsure of what he was going to do. He started to open the book, flipping through the pages until he came to my section. I wasn't one to brag, or to boost my ego, but god was I proud that I had my own section in the book.

Now that wasn't my intention when I actually killed those people, not at all. But now, in the aftermath, it was pleasing.

The boy cocked his head in confusion as he came to the end of the chapter, where the words cut off. In the book, it explained how I died, but it never fully ended the story. It just- cut off.

The boy looked confused as the book cut off, and now- it was my time.

"So much for that..." I heard him say, which caused me to instantly take steps towards the boy.

"Wait, please don't close it yet," I said softly, standing right next to him. I smirked, seeing the words I spoke appear on the book he was holding. He stared at it, but I could tell that he was getting scared.

"There's no need to be scared, I can tell you are..." I smirked, watching him slowly start to panic.

"Speak," I said firmly, hoping he would start to talk soon. I had only gotten this close to this one time, but god I hoped this was the last. He was perfect.

"Who are you?" He said softly. I smirked, slowly leaning down, getting closer to this boy.

"Dallon," I said softly, whispering my name into his ear. I stood up straight, continuing to stand next to him. As I was closer, I could see the little details of his face even better. I could see the details of everything, of his clothes, how his hair was styled, the small strands of it that fell in his face.

"You're the guy I read about in the book, aren't you?" I just stood there, not caring enough to answer him with that small statement. "You were pretty messed up, weren't you?"

What!? No! I wasn't messed up! I furrowed my eyebrows in anger, quickly walking beside him so I stood behind him. I could see the book jolt in the smaller's hold, in the corner of my eye.

"NO!" I seethed, glaring at the back of his head, as the book scratched in the words I spoke. It was an older book, the pages thinner than a book from this time would be. Because of my anger, the book had splattered ink around the word as well. Part of me was surprised that he hadn't left yet, but I played my part in that.

"But you killed someone..." His voice was soft, but I tried not to pay much mind to it. I grabbed onto his shoulders, unaware of how my nails started to dig into his skin. He looked a little scared as he felt my hands on his body, and tried to shake the feeling. As he did so, I let go rather quickly.

"I was framed, none of this was my fault. Everyone is just foolish enough to over-exaggerate small mishaps." I wasn't lying. I could tell that the boy heard my voice at that point, which made me smirk.

"What do you mean by small mishaps?" I let out a low noise, almost resembling a growl. God he just- he made me mad! I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but I couldn't help it. I pushed him forward roughly, then ran a shaky hand through my long hair.

He looked panicked, scared. He only looked around for a moment before he got up, rather quickly making his way out of the cemetery. Either way, he couldn't escape me. He read the book, I touched him, he was able to hear my voice. I wasn't leaving him any time soon.

After he left my grave, he ran down the street, the sunset absolutely beautiful. I smirked, quickly following after the rather short, brown-haired boy. Now that we got into better lighting, I could tell that his hair wasn't black. The sun hit it just right, showing me that it was, in fact, brown.

I continued to follow him for a little while until he got to a group of younger girls. They reminded me of my sister, I wasn't able to lie. I was never a fan of children, but I guess she was my only exception. She was kind, she loved the animals that grew up on my farm. I think she could tell that I was different, even though she was younger than me. She didn't treat me any differently, not like my parents and the girl next door did. I never got mad at her. I loved her.

"Kara, I'm going home, I want you to go inside with Mom and Dad, okay?" I was snapped out of my thoughts as I once again heard him speak, staying right next to him. I stayed extremely close to him, simply unable to stray too far. I let out a small breath, looking around for only a moment before turning my attention back to him. This was boring.

He started to run again but bumped into another boy.

"Bren? Hey, man, what's got you in a rush?" Bren? Oh- I liked that. Instead of answering his supposed friend, he just pushed him into his house, which I presumed was his own. I just stayed by his side.

"Spencer, I think I met a ghost." So that's what he calls me? Well, that's fair enough. I don't think anyone these days would call me any different. I was dead, after all.

I let out another breath, still relatively bored. Where was the action? I stayed right by Bren's side, close enough that he would be able to feel my breath on his skin if I decided to speak or make myself present for that matter.

I looked back over at this friend, Spencer, and then saw the look on his face. Bren started to explain the previous events of the night to him, which he obviously didn't take seriously. He looked as if this was all one big joke, one big prank. I smirked, starting to feel a little anger in myself. It was all coming together now...

"Do it..." I whispered, once again leaning in close to the smaller boy.

"I'm being serious!" He yelled, to which I felt a small tingle go down my spine. I licked my lips a little, watching as he grabbed the other. "Brendon, I think you need to chill."  That's what he said in return, watching as he pushed Brendon away. Oh, I loved that name, Brendon... It fit him well. I could picture myself calling out for him in the coming years, having him by my side.

I could feel the urge as well, that similar feeling filling my senses as I could only assume filled Brendon's as well. After all, I had attached myself to him. I smirked and bit into my bottom lip, stepping away as Bren quickly grabbed one of the knives from his kitchen. It wasn't a new feeling to me, it was the same thing I felt when I killed those people when I killed my mother. It was completely overwhelming. But, the satisfaction I felt afterward is something that I will always miss.

He didn't waste time before stabbing his friend. I sat upon the counter, just watching everything go down, reminiscing the times like this when I was alive. I still think about it, I think about it a lot actually.

When he snapped out of it, he of course was shocked. Now, I don't blame him. He wasn't used to that feeling like I was, this was his first time killing someone. He was shaking like a leaf, his hands covered in his best friend's blood. He had tears falling down his cheeks, which I wish I could just wipe away...

"Oh my god..." He said softly, looking around at everything that had just happened. Before I could even say anything, I heard the door open. There were footsteps and a very unfamiliar voice to me.

"Brenny!" Oh, that's a cute nickname. She calls him Brenny. Still, I like Bren more. I just watched what he would do, which seemed to be nothing. He just stood there, watching her walk into the room, seeing the lifeless, blood-covered body on the ground.

"Do it..." I whispered, leaning down to whisper directly in his ear.

Brendon didn't waste any time in rushing over to her, placing his blood-covered hand over her mouth. She was tiny, easy to pick up or drag.

"Be quiet.." He seethed, causing me to smirk. This time, I strayed behind him slightly, letting him do this to himself. I hummed faintly, but not enough for him to hear me, especially in our different states. He dragged her all the way up the stairs, which looked quite easy as she had stopped kicking. However, as soon as he reached the top of the stairs and what I could only assume was her room, she started to squirm and kick.

"Will you please just shut up?!" He yelled, causing that familiar tingle to go down my spine once more. I smirked, gasping softly as he swung her around and hit her head against the door frame. Now that, I was not expecting. She screamed, and directly after he threw her into her bedroom. I saw the blood trickle down her head and face as well, which I could only smirk. He killed yet another.

"What is wrong with me?!" He cried out. I only felt a small bit of sympathy towards him, which was new. That feeling was new, and I didn't all that much like it. He ran back down the stairs, right past the kitchen and out of the house, racing outside. I followed him, smiling softly. It was all falling into place now.

"Why are you doing this?!" He cried out. I hummed, shaking my head at him.

"Why am I doing this?" I emphasized the I. "Why, Brendon, I haven't done a thing. This is all you." I smirked, watching his reaction. I hadn't done anything at all, I never made him kill his friend or his sister. I never even told him to. He had it in him to ignore me, but he chose to listen.

"You're so easy, you know that? And you can't even do a thing. No one will believe you anyway, go ahead. Try to tell them you're talking to a ghost. Oh, isn't that how your best friend wound up dead?" I smirked, leaning in close as I spoke to him. He just kept running, pushing kids out of the way, who were still out, trick or treating. It was still early, so I wasn't surprised by the amount of kids out on the street. Either way, it just made everything more interesting.

"Please, just stop. This isn't me!" He yelled, people, starting to look at him like he was crazy.

"Aw, Brendon... Would you look at that? Everyone around you looks so concerned!" I stated, using a different tone to talk to him, using one that I would almost use to talk to my sister when she was younger. I knew I was being manipulative, but I was good at it. I knew how to use words, how to make people do things, how to make them feel a certain way.

"Now you know how it feels to have everyone around you think you're insane. Not very fun, is it dear?" I hummed, just chuckling as he placed his hands over his ears in a sad attempt to block out the noise. I stayed behind him the entire time, breathing onto his neck.

"Why do you keep running? You can't escape what you've already done. The more you push it away the more it's going to come back to haunt you." I smirk, watching his reaction.

"Stop, stop, will you please just stop?!" He yelled, falling down onto his knees. Pathetic. I watched him, holding back on speaking again.

"Go home, Brendon. Face your mistakes." I taunted him, smirking to myself as he started to stand up, turning and going all the way back to where his house was. I just watched him, almost reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"You people ruined me. I only plan on returning the favor. You were the only one who fell into it." I let out that low noise again, resembling a growl. Spoke directly into his ear, following him into his bathroom.

Perfect.

As he looked into the mirror, he saw me, not himself.

"Dallon?" He asked nervously, to which I only smirked, and nodded.

I was wearing the clothes I had on at the time of my death, which were simple farm clothes. I had on a dark pair of pants, which had a hole at the knee. The shirt I had on was a simple white shirt, which had big patches of dirt in different places. My sleeves were rolled up, and the top button was unbuttoned. I always had it like that. My brown hair fell into my face, but I didn't bother to move it out of the way. In comparison to his dark brown eyes, I had light blue ones. And because of my death, I had a small mark on my neck. I hadn't seen myself in the longest time, I almost started to forget what I looked like.

I didn't even have to tell the smaller anything as he turned and opened the latch of his window. I smiled to myself, seeing him climb over the bathtub, perching himself on the ledge of the highest window. His house was two stories, so he most likely wouldn't suffer.

He just let himself fall, whether he thought this was all real or not. I slowly sat down on the roof, listening to people's screams. I chuckled softly, smiling proudly.

"And now you're stuck with me..." I said softly. "Happy Halloween, Brendon..." I finished, feeling that familiar feeling, feeling proud and satisfied.

I finally wasn't alone.