I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in Ouji boards, aliens, loch ness monsters, abominable snowmen, poltergeists, republicans or any of that other stuff. My little brother makes me watch those ghost hunter documentaries (I'm using that term lightly) and tries to show me the DARN FACTS, DAMNIT KATE! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE THAT THEY'RE REAL? Funny how he believes in ghosts but not the continued statistical evidence that indicates women still suffer from inequality and, yes little brother, even in western society. *Cue eye roll* So keep that in mind when I say that this book scared the shit out of me. Nothing is less fun then getting up in the middle of a dark night to tend to your son. You're creeping through the halls thinking over and over in your head, "Ghosts aren't real. Ghosts aren't real. Fuck what was that?! Nothing, okay? That was nothing because ghosts aren't real. Ghosts aren't real." It's not a perfect novel. Apart from the pants-shitting terror, there is Cas to