It was not the first time Maria went through a situation like this. She walked into the damp room and stood under the doorframe. The only sound was that of her steps over old garbage that filled the floor; a viscous liquid created a small cover over it, but she decided not to pay much attention to this, knowing what it was could made her loose her composure.  It smelled nothing like the average waste, something rotted in that room; it was the smell of human flesh and trapped souls. She knew this too well.

After glancing inside a little deeper nothing else was needed. Maria knew that any movement outside of what was planned, a plan alien to her yet familiar, could be the last one. This did not encourage her much; she knew the outcome and it involved her as the new inhabitant of an old coffin, a box she should have occupied almost thirty years ago to make true what most believed. Could it be 1973 all over again? Who could know about it? After all, she was just a ghost since then, but her thoughts did not matter.

Maria reckoned what she made sure to never face; it was a surprise, not a good one, nonetheless she still smirked. A familiar place and setting turned unsettling, not that it was cozy before. This time she was not the one holding the knife.