The room was small and neat with a double bed which had a colourful bedding. A table and a chair on the corner had a pile of horror novels and cosmetics. 
Lindelwa saw herself on a wide long mirror on the wall closing the door behind her.
It had been her brother’s room before he left to study electrical engineering in Durban. The room was never neat then, unmade bed with unwashed clothes scattered on it. Because she loved him dearly, she’d make sure to make time to clean the room spotless, but felt sorry for the woman who was going marry the man who struggled keeping the house clean.
Changing into her pink nightdress she went to the table and picked up a novel she was currently intertaining herself with. A horror about a woman that was haunted by a baby she aborted. 
Lindelwa found the baby as a villain in the novel, fascinating as the baby’s desire was a cleansing ceremony for being terminated while the mother was becoming insane of her disbelief about ghosts. 
Fifteen minutes or so of reading the twentieth chapter, her focus was engrossed as her mind was incredulous about, Asanda’s death. She recollected a memory about him.
Asanda had once been famous of being in a recorded video abrading a girl’s virginity. A girl that been a high horse of not sleeping with boys. Lindelwa chuckled at the thought when he lied to her yesterday about saving himself for someone he loves. Her. 
The girl had became humble because of the humiliation.
Realising she was now ghost reading, she fold the page and closed the novel. Asanda’s face appeared on her mind again, and she found herself sobbing silently once again. It was a horrible death to experience.
Lindelwa was startled when the bulb blow up, the room becoming dim. She sighed disquietly of the quality of these cheap bulbs. If they not blowing up they die within a month.
She was startled again when she saw a spine-chilling face on her mirror. A woman’s face with punctured wounds, dripping blood. Lindelwa went under the table and hid like a terrified child. Those wounds seemed exactly of how Asanda was described by the people when he was found dead this morning. 
Her heart was jumping apprehensively.
She looked up to the mirror, but the spine-chilling woman’s face had disappeared. She thought she was in a dream, perhaps felt asleep while reading a novel. 
Lindelwa then crawled out of the table and tiptoed towards the mirror. She now saw her dark complexion and her tiny lips that haven’t had her favourite long,deep & satisfying kiss in a long time.
The last time she had had her favourite kiss was months ago when she pulled away from a boy that’d made her unused vagina wet. Unfortunately the boy hadn’t been the one for her core to finally find its mate. 
Lindelwa glanced at her curtain, blowing up slowly while the window was closed. Having a glimpse to the mirror with the corner of her eye, the spine-chilling woman stood behind her.
She shrieked, twirling quickly but the woman’s wasn’t there. Then a voice called out her name, startling her again, accidentally smashing the mirror with her back, fell and scattered on the floor.
For a moment she felt like the woman who was terrified of her ghost child. Lindelwa understood better why she was going insane. This shit was daunting.
She became perplexed and brave when she shouted, “Who are you? What do you want from me!”
Lindelwa glanced around her room, then she saw the woman standing on the corner, with a machete in her hand that had fresh stains of blood. 
Lindelwa grabbed a pencil on the table as her weapon, her prominent brown eyes seemingly fearful to witness what was in her room.
“Don’t you dare come near me” said Lindwela, threatening the woman with the pencil.
“I need your help with my son” said the woman, her voice as normal as a human. “He’d grown to a man I never wished for him to be.”
Lindelwa thought she was losing her mind when she realised this wasn’t a dream. A ghost was in her room, and it needed her help. 
Suddenly something struck on her mind, that she was Asanda’s killer, but she’d to be certain.
“Why would I want to help you when you killed my friend?”
“That boy wasn’t your friend. He was going to chew and spit you out. Trust me, I learned that the hard way. There was no place for boys like him in this world.”
The woman looked familiar to ,Lindelwa when she observed her carefully in the dark. She recognised it was, Thembi Luthuli. The woman her father spoke about earlier. She was a child when, Thembi was still alive.
Samkelo’s mother.
“Anti Thembi” said , Lindelwa, with a shocking voice.
“Listen to me. There’s not enough time. You need to make my son see it’s not right to abuse women”
Before, Lindelwa had to respond, her door opened. Her father had woken up by the noise from her room.
“Lindelwa,” he said. “Who are you talking to?”
Looking back at the woman, she had disappeared.