No it is not a lie, I'm really publishing a new story today :)

This is my first time writing a supernatural fic (and you can notice it is based on "Ghost Whisperer"). This is too the first time that I'm writing Melina&JoMo as the mais couple and I'm writing the story in Melina's POV - this story is going to be a big challenge for me. Hopefully you will enjoy it.

IIt will take me a while to publish chapter number two because I'm not too sure about this story and before I continue writing is I want to know if your opinion.

I'm sorry for all the grammar and spelling mistakes. English isn't my first language.

Read and Review

Chapter One - A Not So Normal Life

My name is Melina Perez and there are a few things you don't know about me.

I have everything people wish to have a normal and ideal life. I have an amazing job which allows me to travel around the World and meet gorgeous places - an injury can happen once a while and I have to stay home recovering, but it still is a great job to which I worked a lot to be where I'm now; a perfect boyfriend with whom I have been for eight years now; a nice paycheck at the end of month and a magnificent house located in Los Angeles, California.

You ask me what I more need be have a complete perfect life, without flaws. What do I wish more? Well, my life would be absolutely perfect if I didn't see dead people. Lost souls who hadn't crossed the light because left something undone or want revenge for what happened with them just before passing away. My grandmother told me those were the reasons which keep a spirit remaining in our World.

My grandmother used to see them too when she was alive. She was the only person who knew what I was going through. She was the only person who knew my place was not in a hospital seeing doctors.

Since my childhood, I see lost souls. I was four when my parents realized something was wrong with me. When I was caught speaking with a spirit by the first time, my parents took me to a psychologist. He told them that kids with my age have a fertile imagination and make up imaginary friends. With the time, my imaginary friend would go away. My parents didn't need to get concerned with me. I don't know what I would have done without my grandma. I swear: without her I would have been miserable. My mother always refused to believe in my grandmother's ghosts stories. She was lucky for not seeing them as us.

I try to ignore those spirits and act as an ordinary person. However it isn't always easy. It's harder than you can imagine. Some souls are pleasant and playful, other are frightening and wicked.

High school was nightmare for me. At the time, I couldn't see the difference between invisible people and real people. Nowadays, sometimes, I still miss it. Now, imagine having to get through high school making a mistake and being watched by your classmates, friends and professors and, of course, malicious teenagers, talking alone. A dreadful nightmare!

I'm thankful for the days I don't have to see them, for the days I'm not confronted by a lost soul. But these days, they seem to show up with more and more frequency than usually did. It is harder to keep a normal life with ghost appearing every single time I give a step.

I do my best to hide my curse from everyone who knows me, from all my friends and, of course, from my boyfriend. If I told them, they would send me right away to an asylum. I trust my boyfriend, but it would be too much to ask him to believe I could see people who don't live among us anymore.

Even giving my best to hide my curse - I refuse to call it a gift as my grandma; it is curse, plain and simple - sometimes my techniques simply doesn't work out and I end making an idiot of myself.

My curse doesn't only affect my personal life. My job suffers from it. How? Well, try slap hands with someone on the crowd who is made of air without being noticed. I receive strange looks from people in the middle of the crowd who saw what I did and I have to keep walking as nothing had happened, as I didn't try to slap hands with someone who doesn't exist to their eyes. Or try to be inside a ring with two people at same time but only one of them is your opponent, only one of them is made of flesh and bone and has no idea that we aren't alone. As my opponent doesn't have my eyes, she ends up throwing me against the ghost who is sharing the ring with us. It doesn't happen to me a lot, but the few times it already happened were enough. It's an experience I don't like not even a little bit and hopefully it won't happen ever again. I hate the feeling of being thrown against a ghost. Not only I have to concentrate myself into the match again to not freak out, but my body gets cold, very cold. I ask myself if I hadn't gotten into a freezer machine.

You can't imagine how many moments in my life were ruined by these presences. I would live so much better without them haunting me.

As you see, my normal and perfect life is not perfect and normal as everyone thinks it is.

Working with WWE can be amazing and at the same time grueling. Not always I have time to a relaxing romantic dinner in a fancy restaurant alone with my boyfriend. Eating in hotel rooms or spending every single second surrounded by coworkers can be exhausting after a while.

But tonight, John took time to prepare me a lovely surprise and fulfill my wish: a romantic dinner in a luxurious restaurant. No hotel food and not a single familiar face around.

My amazing night couldn't be more perfect. It could be more perfect if my boyfriend wasn't wearing an expression of someone who had a hidden dark secret and wanted to reveal it but didn't know how to do it. Naturally I know the expression because I already used it more times than I can count.

- Is there something wrong? - I was tasting a delicious slice of crème brulee cheesecake when I made the question. My John had not even touched his dessert. He was playing with a steel fork, and I confess it was annoying me.

- For how long have we been together? - John queried. If we weren't having a romantic dinner which was prepared by him and not by myself, I would think he wanted to break up with me.

- Eight years - I answered suspicious and placed my white made of cloth napkin on top of the table.

- I have been thinking. - He began to stammer a little bit and saying some words without sense. It was unnatural for him to do it. I couldn't stop to ask myself what was going on. I wanted to be inside his head to know. He stopped himself and changed the conversation course. - You know that I love you, don't you?

- Yes, I know - I answered and offered him a smile. Didn't I say he wasn't breaking up with me? If he wanted to break up with me, he wouldn't say he loved me. But I continued without know what he wanted. - I love you too.

I felt a current of air; a strange current of air which I should have given importance but I didn't.

- As I said I have been thinking and...- As he started looking for something, my napkin placed on the table fell to the floor. I offered him an apologetic smile and lowered my body to grab my cloth napkin. When I was lifting, my head hit the tabletop. I could swear it wasn't so close of me.

- Are you okay? - Next thing I know, John is knelt at my side making sure my head didn't get too hurt.

Ignoring all the pain, I only thought about my hair. I may sound shallow but when I'm having a romantic dinner, the first in a long time, I want to imagine how perfect it was. I don't want to remember my hair was messed up.

- I'll be right back.

I rose out of my chair, leaving John knelt on the floor stating at me, and I made my walk to the ladies' bathroom direction. When I enter inside the bathroom, I see it is empty. I would have it all to myself. When you share a locker room with so many girls, you can find an empty bathroom an ideal place. I don't need to rush in because another girl needs to use the mirror.

I stared at the mirror to fix my long raven locks. I should have already been used but when my eyes met the mirror's reflection and I was offered the vision of a young woman my heart beat faster and my body jumped.

She was wearing dark jeans and a white shirt. Not appropriate at all for being in the place we were. My hope of the woman not being a ghost went downhill quickly when she spoke:

- Can you see me?

I wanted to ignore the girl, but my eyes were landed on her. Ghosts are not stupid. I wouldn't have my eyes froze on her if I couldn't see her. I moved my eyes away from her even knowing it already was too late.

- You can see me. - Her voice offered me vibes of happiness. - I need your help.

I walked to the door. The ghost transported herself to my front making it impossible to get out of the bathroom without get through her. As I said, I don't like the cold sensation. There is nothing I could do more than hear her.

- I need your help - she repeated one more time as I didn't hear it first.

- Don't you see a yellow and bright light? - I asked the woman. Maybe she didn't know she had to cross it. Maybe she wanted my help to tell her that she needed to cross the bright light to go to her new home.

- My parents are outside. I need you to tell my mother where my diary is. She needs to know it's not her fault.

My eyes travelled along her body. They didn't need to go far to understand what happened with the "person" standing at my front. Thin red lines covered both her arms. In the middle of those lines, two of them stood out for being longer and deeper. It wasn't hard to figure out this girl committed suicide.

- I cannot help you. - It was a lie. I could help her. But I don't want people to question my mental sanity. - Even if I could help you, do you think your parents would believe in a strange woman who magical knows where their daughter's last words are?

- My mother has to know it was not her fault. I can't see her taking the blame. Tell her my diary in hidden in my personal bathroom. Behind the toilet.

If she didn't want to see her mother taking the blame for her suicide, maybe she should have thought twice before ending her life. It would be easier for everyone. Especially for me! I would have less a ghost to see.

- Please, enter in the yellow light.

- I'm not going to enter anywhere until my mother knows.

Hell was unfolded inside the restaurant bathroom. Towels flew against me - thank God she chose towels and not heavy objects - and the stalls doors were opened with violence. When a ghost releases his energy, these kinds of things happen. If you see opening doors and objects which shouldn't move, you may consider the presence of a spirit at your side, inside your house.

- Stop it! - I ordered. If she didn't stop, it would be like a tornado appeared inside the bathroom. And that tornado would be called Melina Perez and would have to pay all the damages.

- Melina - I heard my date's voice after a knock on the door. He was at the other side of the door.

My not so nice ghost vanished when heard John's voice.

For how long had I been inside this bathroom? Fifteen minutes. I got surprised because John didn't come after me sooner. Not only no one takes fifteen minutes to fix her hair and make sure her make-up doesn't need to be arranged, but I hit with my head. I could have passed out or felt sick.

I put a smile on my face, the best smile I have, and opened the door hoping my encounter to a dead person would go blank.

- With whom where you talking to? - John asked confused and worried at the same time. Please God, don't let him think not even for a moment about obligating me to go to a hospital.

- Alone…With myself - I answered only to receive a strange look as I'm not good of my mind. Even I ask myself sometimes if I'm good of my mind.

Do you see why I don't tell him? I should have already told my eight years boyfriend about seeing dead people. My grandmother always hated the fact of me calling them dead people. But, let's face it, they are dead people!

- Mel…- I interrupted him because he couldn't go further. Those kinds of questions should remain unanswered.

- I have to do something before we go.

I saw John losing his smile. As my mind was on the dead girl, I didn't give importance to it. I returned to my table and grabbed my purse. I asked the waiter a pen and a place where I could write. I wrote on a paper where the dead girl's diary was and then asked the waiter to handle it to the middle age couple sat on the other side of the restaurant.

To keep my identity and, obviously, to not end up in a madhouse, I hold my boyfriend's hand and pushed him out of the restaurant with me after he paid our bill.

And to think all I wanted for tonight was a normal and relaxing romantic dinner with my boyfriend.