I do not own Darkest Powers =[ (italics is the exact words of the first book that leads into my twist of the story)

I exhaled and closed my eyes. When I opened them, the blue uniform shirt was inches from my face. I looked up…and let out a shriek.

He looked like a mannequin that had gotten too close to a fire. Face burned. Melted. One eye bulged, exposed. The other eye had slid down near his cheekbone, the whole cheek sagging, lips drooping, skin shiny and misshapen and-

The twisted lips parted, "Maybe now you'll pay attention to me."

I ran headlong down the hall. As I flew past one classroom door, it opened.

"Chloe?" A man's voice.

I kept running.

"Talk to me!" the horrible, garbled voice snarled, getting closer. "Do you know how long I've been trapped here?"

I flew around the corner towards the front of the school. I was catching the attention of more people. I glanced behind me (big mistake, that's when the women in the movies fall) Instead, I ran into a trash can, but I don't fall so I'm counting my lucky stars. As I am running from a creepy, face-melting janitor. I see the front doors. Escape. Through the clear glass of the front office I see the desk lady. Shouldn't she look more scared?

"Stop young lady!" a teacher yells.

Stop!? But a crazy man is behind me. Scratch that – beside me. I yelp and run sideways into the wall. The man reaches his hand towards my face, I cringe from the contact. But I only feel a cold sensation. I open my eyes to see his hand disappearing through my face. A scream builds in my throat, but then I see a teacher in the corner of my eye. He is looking at me. Only me.

I run to the door and keep running once outside. I don't think I have ever run this much. When I look behind me, nobody is there. I slow to walking, breathing so heavy I feel a panic or asthma attack is threatening. I walk until I can catch a taxi. Home, I want to go home.

Once there, I sneak in hoping to avoid Annette. Of course I don't.

"Chloe, what in the world are you doing home?"

"I-I-I nott feel-ing w-well" I look down at the floor and can feel my throat closing from unshed tears. Today has been so confusing.

"Okay, well let's get you to bed." She leads me to my room, and I curl up under the covers squeezing my eyes shut.

"You're not running a fever, does your stomach hurt?"

"Ye-eah, I-I'm sure it's n-nothing. Just need t-to r-rest." Thankfully, she left after that. I covered up with the blanket and shed silent tears. She came in shortly after with water and aspirin.

He melted his face; his hand went through me. My movie mind was telling me the answer, but the rational part insisting I was hallucinating. No one seemed to see him but me. God, I'm crazy. I have to be crazy. If only I could be the type of kid who does drugs. So then when people ask about my episode in the hallway I could go 'man, I was so trashed I don't remember a thing.' I laugh a little, but I feel hysterical so I stop. Maybe, they will think it's drugs anyways. What else would people think? I'm sure the school will call. My thoughts swarm.

I wake up and it's dark outside. I stumble to the kitchen for something to eat. I see Annette at the kitchen table.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay. The school called, said you were acting weird and just ran out. There was no violence and you looked more scared than anything that they just want to know what happened. So I called your dad."

"Uhh, Okay."

"Your dad should be here soon and I made some food for you in the kitchen. I'm going to go ahead and head home." She looked at me timidly as if to ask if that's okay.

"Th-thank you" I said with a smile of reassurance.

She left, I panicked.

I can't believe the school didn't sound angry or weirded out. What am I going to tell my dad? What does he think? Would he believe me about the janitor? Do I even believe what I saw? No, I don't know what happened and Dad would think me crazy. So I need a cover story until I figure out for myself what's going on.

Okay, focus. I'm a screenwriter, this should be easy. A story, a lie.

When Dad arrives, he appears conflicted. I'm sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him to speak because I can't speak first.

"I like your hair" I reach up, forgetting all about the highlights. "Th-thanks."

"Are you drinking or on drugs?" he asks solemnly. "Wh-wh-what? No Dad. P-promise. I would never" I think I'm about to cry at the fact that he thinks that of me.

"I'm sorry kid; I know that. So what happened today is it because I delayed coming home again?" His voice is filled with guilt. "Oh, Dad, n-no that had n-nothing to do with it."

I struggled for words to explain myself. "I just had an o-off day Dad. I g-got my p-p-eri-od, and was a-ask out. I don't know, I j-just felt like being a r-rebel. I died my hair and t-thought I was going to be in t-trouble. So I ran."

"Okay, I'll call the school in the morning to explain."

After an awkward hug and goodnights, I headed back to my room. I lay on my bed just staring at the ceiling for a long time. No particular thought going through my head.

When I'm ready, I sit up and pull out my computer. His hand went through me; nobody noticed him but me. So here is my moment of truth. Either I'm messed up or the world is. Either way I'm kinda screwed, but I know I'd rather it not be all in my head.

I found an article about the janitor's death and a picture of him. Verdict- the world is messed up.

I saw a ghost. A real, live (haha) ghost.

I tried looking up more stuff about ghost, but came up with nothing. Most sights were about documenting it and were talking about ghost as faded images. The janitor was clear as day. Then researching puberty and ghosts put me even farther from helpful.

Knock, Knock. "Chloe?" I get out of my bed and open my door.

"Yeah, Dad." I replied groggily. I got a couple of hours of sleep, but that's because I turned my headphones all the way up and forced myself not to think about what's going on.

"I called the school. You are suspended for a day and have detention for 3 weeks for skipping school and causing a disturbance."

"O-okay, uhh I'm sorry Dad."

"I'm just glad you're okay. I took work off for the week. Anything you want to do? We could go to the theater." A smile lit my face. Then I thought of the chance of running into another ghost.

"C-can we hang out at home, w-watch movies and order takeout?" I silently plead with him to say yes.

"Sure kid."

"Oh and h-have y-you talked to A-Aunt L-Lauren?"

"No, but I could call her if you want? I would have contacted her if you were hurt or seriously sick"

"That's okay, I'd rather n-not have her k-know if that's okay" I don't think I could survive her grilling me about everything yet.

"As long as you are fine"

"I am" I lie.

"So what horror movie are we starting with?" Thank god, the perfect distraction.