While the others went for their evening dose of hauntings, I went home.

When I got in my room my eyes immediately fell on the sheet covering the painting. My hands curled around it, a part of me wanting to throw it across the room. Yet I couldn't. Something stopped me and I slowly put it back in its stand.

I disgarded my uniform and put some of my thick house clothes. I probably had to continue with the painting but I didn't want to touch that thing. I didn't want to go downstairs either. My family was still reeling from yesterday's events. I didn't need a reminder of what was going on right in my room.

I pulled the sheet back and gawked at the canvas. It was empty. Completely. No landscape, head or moving figure.

I continued to look at it, thinking that the images would appear again. Maybe if I had some black light or something but I assumed they still wouldn't appear.

I turned to my paint set, dried from having been abandoned. I contemplated it. Should I?

I dashed downstairs and went about my process, setting up my paints and brushes, etc. I took off my top and adorned my painting t-shirt.

"Okay Zake," I spoke out loud. ", what do you want to show us? Help me."

It felt stupid but I let my hand glide over the canvas without direction. It's hard to explain but time stood still. Thoughts seized and the storm seemed to only exist outside. Not even sound seemed present.

What I would come to learn as hours passed. The only reason I found out was because of my brother.

"What the hell are you doing?" His hand gripped my shoulder and yanked, breaking me out of my stupor.

I looked at him, my temper flaring. "What?"

He deadpanned. "We've been calling you! What have you been doing?"

My eyes returned to the painting. It was rather simple despite the time taken to actually paint it. It took me a minute to realize it was a church. In the front was a low, old fashioned gate that opened to what looked like a stone driveway. Towards the left of the canvas sat the church, a massive building with the cross sitting on the foremost tip. Small stained glass lined the only wall that could be seen. Next to it was the actual entrance. Next to it was more buildings but smaller indicating that they were further behind.

I was astonished at the detail. Every etch in the wooden doors, the stones in the driveway, the unique shape of each stained glass, everything was so clear. I wasn't looking at a painting anymore. I was looking at a documentary.

"Whoa, " My brother said what I couldn't. "No wonder you've been up here for four hours."

"Four hours?" I shouted, shocked. I made for my phone, the time reading 18:10. I also noticed about thirty missed calls.

"Well I'll leave you to it. Ma's calling you to eat since you didn't make dinner." My brother left.

The calls were from the group, obviously. I read some of the messages and listened to the voicemail. From what I could gather from the heaves and noise of the storm and sobs in the background was that something had happened. Something about Toni being in danger and we were all gonna suffer except one of us.

I considered calling but then something told me not to. I walked to my curtains and pulled them a bit back. The storm that they raved about, and that I could hear in the background of their voicemails and voice notes, was practically nonexistent. Clouds still dotted the night sky yet I could see the stars here and there.

I looked at the canvas. A church.

What was Zake trying to tell me? And why did it mean Toni's punishment?