Disclaimer: I do not own Thirteen Ghosts, nor its characters.

Secret Diary of Ghost 11

My name is Abigail Frost. I'm working for an insane man who goes by the name Frost. No relation, thankfully, we just happened to have the same last name. The following sessions are pages from logs I was supposed to turn in periodically, but decided they were much to valuable to be given up. All sessions are from one particular ghost we have trapped downstairs. One would think I'd be freaked out beyond understanding, however, I'm not that much of a stranger to the ghouls roaming aimlessly...

Session One: Teeth

I pull the chair in front of his 'room' and prepare for another long, crude, and uneventful logging period. It's been almost two months that I've been interviewing Ghost 11 and I still haven't gotten any personal information from him. It really is annoying, because Frost has been breathing down my damn neck for something. It's honestly easier said then done. This guy is sick. All he ever does is scratch at the walls and look at me in a way that makes me grateful those four walls keep him from coming at me.

I open the notepad and notice he hasn't slammed his body against the wall, like he usually does. Instead, he's sulking in a corner, the one farthest away from me, and he doesn't even seem to be acknowledging me. Looking down at the wristwatch, even though I know we've barely begun our session, I groan quietly and bite the inside of my cheek. I sigh and scribble his current condition onto the notepad.

The next twenty minutes is spent in silence and I begin to think that maybe he's sleeping. I sigh, again, though a little louder than last time, in the hopes of possibly catching his attention. But nothing. I shake my head and cross my legs, leaning back against the chair.

"Talking usually makes people feel better."

No answer.

"...I'm not going anywhere for..." I stop to glance down at the time, "...another three hours and thirty-seven minutes."

Again, no response.

Sigh. "Fine, I guess I'll fill the time with my introduction, again." I brush the hair from my face, "Hi. My name is Abigail. I'm twenty-one years old. I used to be a college kid, but for some strange reason I decided to ditch the educational road for a life of danger and wonder."

The sarcasm drips from every word that leaves my mouth and I still get no reaction from Ghost 11. I frown standing from my seat, leaving behind the notepad, and walk towards his corner. Tapping against the glass, I earn a nasty look from the disheveled man and I strain myself to remain glued to my spot. "You're boring. Could you at least claw at the wall so I can have something to write in the log."

"Piss off."

'I guess that's a start,' I think, rolling my eyes and moving a bit closer. "Wow. This is the first time you've spoken, granted a bit rude, but still."

His eyes are on me now. My basic instinct tells me to move as far as I possibly can from the cell, but instead I inch another step closer. He looks like a complete mess. I don't know why Frost is so interested in this one. It's not like he's the only ghost in the basement. His hair is wild. His face pale and scarred. His teeth...God their the worse.

"So, can we continue talking?"

He glares, "Leave, slut."

"You know I can't. I'm stuck down here until our four hours are up. The doors lock as soon as I step down the first flight of stairs and don't unlock until our time is up." I wander closer and take in his appearance, once again.

He stands and leers down, being a head taller than myself, at me with a uncomfortable smirk on his lips. I stop moving and watch with caution. He closes the gap between us and just stands there. I gulp and narrow my eyes, trying to look brave, but obviously failing. His eyes seem to travel everywhere, for a brief second or two, and then suddenly lock with my own. The hair on the back of my neck stands and I stop myself from looking away or moving, afraid of breaking contact and losing the battle.

"...You're no different then the rest of them."

I blink, loosing the imaginary battle, and cock my head to the side. "Them? Who are 'them'?"

He grins and a nauseated feeling overwhelmed my body. I stare, openly, at his disgusting teeth and hold my composure. His teeth are large, but for some strange reason they fit him perfectly. Their colors range from yellow, to red stained, and even blotches of black. A few are chipped, while others seem to have been filed sharp, needle like. They were terrifying, but unique, in a crazy kind of way. Moving away from his retched teeth, I take note at the pasty blue colored skin, large round nose, eyes filled with angry, and the markings around his face.

"You're one of those freaks they hire."

I glare at him, but nod. "So I am." His fist slams against the protection glass and I jump back from the sudden outburst of anger. My defiance is long gone, but I'm also slowly losing control of my temper. "How did you know?"

His hand suddenly moves from his side and an inhuman talon gently clips the side of his face.

My own hand mimics his action and my fingers grace against the rim of the glasses. They aren't your average run of the mill once everyone uses around the, for lack of a better word, office. Although altered into looking like everyone else, these were only plastic and held fake glass. Fake spectral frames. I didn't need those to see them. But how did he know? I frown at him, "What about them."

He laughs, loudly and darkly, and turns away from me.

I stand there, dumbfounded. How the hell can he tell their fake? I've been working with Frost for almost an entire year and he has never noticed. Removing the glasses and tossing them onto the chair as I maneuver myself in front of him, I glare at him and pound against the glass. "You know. How?"

He gives me a Cheshire grin and I cringe at the sight of his teeth. I take steps back, unable to maintain a strong facade, as he moves closer towards the thick wall separating us. I expect him to laugh at me again, but instead he just stands there, staring at me, better yet, critiquing me like a piece of meat on display.

"I can smell a freak a mile away and you..." he briefly pauses and presses his caged head against the cool glass "...smell so delicious."

I flinch back, completely disgusted and horrified by his words. "You're repulsive." I whisper back.

He howls once again and I decide to end our session early. Quickly placing the frames back in place, I snatch the notepad and glare behind me. His eyes are staring right back at me, filled with an unpleasant emotion. I don't care that I still have about another two hours left, I'd sit near to entrance or entertain myself with one of the other ghosts. But I can't stay here, not with him staring at me like that.

He seems ready to sink his teeth into me.

R&R.