Hi, I'm Hunter Moore. Everyone calls me Hunny, you know like Honey? Well anyway, the first thing you should know about me is that I'm your average teenage girl, angsty with hormones, drooling over boys, can't wait to drive, a magazine reading, I-need-that-pair-of-jeans chick. But that all changed when strange things started happening, and I'm not talking about creaky floor boards or drug enduced strange. I'm talking supernatural... I know what your thinking, This girls eggs have got to be scrambled or something right?, but just bare with me here. It all started around when my mom passed away.

***Three Months Earlier***

"I'm just saying Hunny, it's impossible, sometimes things just fall over you know?" my best friend Scarlette conceled me over the phone as I sit in my room picking up the books that had just thrown themselves off the shelf.

"All by themself? Scarlette I know how it sounds it's just...All at once? My books flew off the shelf all at once! It's not normal. What if I'm being haunted? What if I have to call some Ghost Hunters? Oh that'd be awsome in a freaky sort of way. Aw great now I' freaking myself out! I'm being haunted! Scarlette call TAPS!" I said my voice growing louder as I spoke rambling on to my sceptic friend.

"Okay, Hun, just take a deep breath. Too much TV, you watch way too much TV... and besides ghosts arent real," she told me in a rock solid voice, as if her answer would erase the fact that my books are going bonkers, and I along with them.

"You can't prove that," I told her placing the final book on it's shelf, " and my own room is giving me the sceevy's now."

"Well you can't prove ghosts are real so eh," I could just imagine her sticking her tounge out to the phone while she paused her sentence, " and why do you talk like your from the 70's or something? I mean sceevy's...really?"

"Yes, really. Why do you talk like a normal person? Hmmmm?" I asked walking out of my room so I wouldn't just sit in there and freak myself out.

"Whatever," she told me through laughter, "I have to go since I'm taking your shift at the diner."

"Hey, you know I have that english project to throw together, Mr. Traiter is such a tough grader!"

"Which is why you should have worked on it weeks ago when it was assigned," and then the dial tone rang threw my ears.

"Pshhh, sure, that's what I should have done," I said sarcastically to no one.

Sitting down and opening my laptop I opened up a new document and began the assignment. The first sentence was easiest but then the assertion cursor stopped blinking and a word began to roll across the screen until the entire screen was filled with the solid type of one word. No spaces, all caps.

"Protect?" I whispered to myself standing inching my way away from the computer, feeling the confusion and fear leak into me like ink on paper. My fight or flight kicked in. I looked around for my jacket and bag and when I looked back to the screen the only thing there was the begining of my first sentence, The book How To Kill a Mockingbird was, starring at me, mocking me. Making me feel crazy.

"Yeah, english can wait," I whispered to myself bolting for the door. No jacket, no bag. The cool November pounding against my skin, kidnapping any warmth that my house had given me. Not knowing where to go, and not really caring where I ended up at this point, only three words raced through my brain over and over.

Anywhere but here! Anywhere but here! Anywhere but here!

Busting through the diner doors, goosebumps on my skin trying there hardest to fight off the cold and happily drinking in the warmth of the nice cozy resturant, I alouded myself to breath in, sucking in air fast so my lungs didn't explode and I scanned the place looking for Scarlette. Seeing her serving drinks to the regular ederly couple I ran up to her and grabbed her arm yanking her away as she placed the cups down. She looked at me suprised and pissed all at once but her features quickly morphed to those of concern and confusion.

"Hunny, what happened? You look like you've just seen a ghost!" she exclaimed sitting us down at a booth.

I made a mental note to laugh at the irony of that later. I held up my finger, still gasping for air. As I settled down to an even steady pace of in and out breatthing I looked to her and swalloed deeply,

"I'm going crazy."