[ WP ] It 's the middle of the night . Your iPhone starts ringing . You wake up . You 're getting a Facetime call from someone who died three days earlier .

I woke from my dreams by the sound of my phone having a seizure on the desk. It was rolling across the desk, chirping out a familiar song. 
 
 Jill insisted on making it her ringtone. 
 
 `` They tell me I ’ m too young to understand. They say I ’ m caught up in a dream. Well life will pass me by if I don ’ t open up my eyes, well that ’ s fine by me.'' 
 
 I hesitated. Who was calling me from Jill's phone? Maybe it was her father or someone... I was shaking when I picked up the screaming phone. It seemed to be stuck on the same line, regurgitating the words, `` Tell me... tell me... tell me... understand.'' 
 
 I was surprised to see that it was a FaceTime invite. Who needed me at 1 am? 
 
 I turned it on, accepted, only to see the smiling face of Jill. 
 
 `` Who the hell is this?'' I asked, certain it must be some dirty trick. I had seen the things people could do on those video chats, making it look like they were a talking cat or Justin Beiber. 
 
 Her smile faded and she sighed deeply. `` I wish you would have answered before, it's hard to get signal here.'' 
 
 I opened my mouth, but she shook her head. `` Do n't ask, Deej, do n't ask.'' 
 
 I mirrored her nodding head, like a good little clone. `` Am... is it really...?'' 
 
 `` Do you need me to prove to you?'' Jill demanded, angry. `` Just listen to me and then you can ask all the stupid living person questions you need... if there is time.'' 
 
 `` Time?'' 
 
 `` Listen!'' Jill said, her voice unnaturally deep. `` You need to go into my room, right now.'' 
 
 When I did n't move, she snarled, `` Diana Jane! You need to do this. Do it now. I -- please?'' 
 
 I got up, moving slowly through the hazy apartment. 
 
 `` Did you touch the dresser?'' Jill asked. 
 
 `` No, they asked me to leave the stuff in there, makes it easier to move...'' 
 
 `` Fine, turn on the light and go over to my dresser.'' 
 
 I walked slowly into her room, shuffling across the hardwood floor. 
 
 `` In the underwear drawer,'' Jill said. 
 
 The phone was making weird noises, static, and she sometimes broke up. 
 
 `` Did you call me from... wherever to tell me to hide your toys?'' 
 
 `` No. I need you to take out the box in the drawer, inside will be a golden necklace. Do not touch it. Open the box only when you have filled the sink with salt water...'' She broke off for a moment. `` Did you... hear... Drop the whole box in there, then get... out... of the apartment.'' 
 
 It was there, under her lacy bras. 
 
 I took it out, listening to Jill tell me what to do over and over again. 
 
 I filled the sink with hot water then dumped a whole tub of salt in it. The box seemed red in the kitchen light and where it sat on the counter was a large, red stain, like blood. I used a paper towel to wipe it up. It smelled like blood. 
 
 I dropped it into the water. 
 
 Nothing happened. 
 
 Jill told me to get out, but I just wanted to sleep. 
 
 I walked to my room, the phone forgotten on the floor. 
 
 I woke up the next morning completely refreshed. 
 
 I went into the kitchen to find it spotless. No box. 
 
 My phone was on the counter, plugged into the wall. There were two places set at the table. I finally recognized that the apartment looked a little weird. It was missing some things, the boxes I had of Jill's stuff, the floral picture she painted for me. The walls were hung with pictures of farm animals. There were daisies in the sink. It looked like it had when I first moved in with Jill and her grandmother. 
 
 I was about to turn and go back to my room, when I saw my reflection in the window. Jill was staring back at me, her red hair short around her face. 
 
 She winked and was gone. 
 
 I headed to my phone, just in time for it to ring. I answered it with a tired tone, `` Hello?'' 
 
 `` Where the hell have you been?'' my mother asked. 
 
 `` At home.'' 
 
 `` You have n't answered your phone for over two weeks. We sent the police to look for you,'' she said. `` Jake has been worried sick.'' 
 
 `` Jake? I have n't spoken to Jake in two years,'' I said. `` I broke up with him Freshman year.'' 
 
 `` I do n't think it is funny. I think it might be best to move back home...'' 
 
 `` I am not moving back home. I am 27 years old, I do n't need --'' I began. 
 
 `` I am coming over,'' my mom said, sounding very worried. `` I think you need to see a doctor.'' 
 
 I hung up the phone. Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Jake and my mother stood there. Jake rushed to grab me and I stepped away from him. My mother, looking years younger, stood wearing a very concerned look. 
 
 `` We need to take you to a doctor,'' my mother said. `` I think there is something wrong with you...'' 
 
 `` There is nothing... Jill's dead and all you can think about is...'' 
 
 `` Jill is n't dead...'' Jake said. `` She called us, to come talk to you. She sounded really worried.'' 
 
 `` What... what day is it?'' 
 
 `` March 15th, 2009.'' 

