"Pull the body out. Do whatever you want with it. Then renovate the house. It'll be perfectly fine to live in again." The man paused. "When I was performing the rite, that spirit was fighting back something fierce. Seemed like it wanted to say something, plead some kind of grievance. But you already told me the whole story, so I forced it down all the same."
"Good. Good. Thank you..."
John walked the spiritualists out with a smile on his face, chatting and laughing the entire way.
Old Mr. Harmon, who had been standing nearby the whole time, tugged gently at my sleeve.
"Miss, that young man is your husband, isn't he? He treats your father like this, and you still won't divorce him?"
"It's not time yet."
I turned to the old man and smiled.
"Sir, the one who died in there wasn't my father."
His eyes widened. "You mean... the one inside was his..."
I nodded.
Old Mr. Harmon slapped his thigh so hard the sound cracked through the air.
"Lord have mercy! A son condemning his own father to never rest in peace. What kind of sin is that..."
"What are you two whispering about?!"
John stormed over and seized the old man by the shoulder.