“When I wake up I’m afraid that somebody else might take my place.
~~~
You’re too mean, I don’t like you. Fuck you, anyways... You make me want to scream at the top of my lungs. It hurts but I won’t fight you, you suck anyways, you make me want to die, right when I wake up.”
- Afraid by The Neighbourhood.


“Your parents are here for you, Asheen.” The receptionist told me cheerfully when I entered the lobby hesitantly. I nod, and thank her so quietly I don’t think she heard. My throat and mouth was suddenly dry as cotton. “You can head straight into the principle’s office, now.”

I nod once more and pause in front of the big, intimidating wood door. I hate this door, I’ve only seen the other side of this door twice, and unfortunately, both within the past two weeks. I really don’t need to see it again.

“Is there a problem?” The receptionist pipes up again, leaning over her computer a little to get a better look at me. I quickly shake my head, “No. I’m okay.” I assure her meekly before reaching for the doorknob.

My heart stops beating for the four seconds it takes for me to push open the door and step in. I don’t look around the room until I’ve completely closed the door.

“Asheen,” Principle Johnson’s deep voice rumbled, making me wince. I turn and face him, standing in my awkward gym clothes, converse, and hoodie. “Take a seat.” He nods towards the empty seat to the right of my Mother, whose face is drawn and emotionless, but there is frustration, confusion and annoyance hidden in her eyes.

Of course I’d managed to single-handedly disappoint them again. When was I not disappointing them in some fashion or another?

I don’t speak, and I keep my eyes down as I quietly pull out the chair and take a seat, crossing my hands in my lap, waiting for them to explain to me what is going on.

“I caught wind that you’ve been acting unusual today,” he begins, looking down at his notes on his desk, the hand written tesitmonies on the lined paper. “I’ve had numerous concerned reports from students and faculty alike, describing your behavior as ‘unusual’ and out of the ordinary, particuarly for you.”

He gives me a long look before continuing. “Expressing multiple emotions within small time frames, such as bouncing back and forth from overbearingly confident to shaking in your skin. There were two reports of you seemingly speaking with yourself animatedly, and to top this off, you’ve already gotten into an altercation with Miss Elizabeth York and Mr. Reece Holland. Now, I’ve got Coach Joan in here telling me you’ve got some terrible marks on your arms, and you’re telling her about how terrible life at home is. Care to shed some light on these topics?”

He crosses his fingers patiently, waiting with a sort of smug glare.

I cannot speak. I lost my voice immediately, my heart skipping beats, threatening to thud right out of my ribcage.

My parents are looking at me, but all I see is disappointment and confusion... A perfectly understandable emotion considering the circumstances.

“May I... Correct those accusations?”

“No, you may not.” He replies firmly, “Instead, you can explain to me why you think they were made if they contian incorrect information.”

“Multiple emotions? To start, everyone has fluxuating emotions. It’s part of how the human body opporates, but some people just have it more often, resulting in individuals with bipolar disorder, depression, anixety, etc.”

“This is a discussion, not chemical reactions, Miss Hunter.” He replies impatiently, seperating his fingers several times while I flounder in my loss of confidence.

“What I’m saying is, that one is understandable,” I explain, “everyone has low and high days.”

“Okay, fine. explain the others, then.” He challenges and I feel like I’ve just lost all leverage.

“Okay... The talking to myself, that was more of making mental notes.”

“Explain why they used the term ‘animatedly’, then? You do know what that word means?”

I narrow my eyes at him a little bit, biting back an insult about how his forehead crinkles up like a paper bag when he raises his eyebrows. “Yes, sir, I do.” I reply with a hint of curty annoyance in my tone, “and it was by no means ‘animated’, okay?”

“It’s your first day back, didn’t you want a fresh start to rekindle your lost friendship?” He asks nosily, annoying me. Like it’s any of his damn business who I’m friends with and whether or not I’m working hard day and night to ‘rekindle’ broken friendships.

“No, that wasn’t my first task. I was going to apologize, but she walked up to me in the hall and immediately started to blame me for breaking her nose - something I did not do. What am I supposed to say to that? Float along to the accusations just so we can be friends? I didn’t break her nose, and I don’t appreciate her coming up to me, blaming me immediately. Reece Holland, included. He has nothing to do with our relationship, but he’s stinking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” I finish with a huff, directing my tone at the end in his direction a bit, lifting my eyebrows enough to signal I was talking about him, too.

He raises his eyebrows at my rant, but remains unphazed and he looks down briefly to document my words, probably modifying them a bit so I look like the criminal.

“Alright, let’s move forward for a moment. Correct me if I have anything wrong here... Coach Joan told me you were failing to perform in her class, that you looked out of it, so she approached you and had a short conversation with you, which ended in you saying that home-life is not going well, and you’re under a lot of stress - correct?”

I hesitate before swallowing hard and nervously, nodding sheepishly. I can feel the saddened aura radiating off my parents like warmth from a fire.

“As you departed, she noticed some strange marks on your elbow, and you told her you had ‘not noticed them yet’. Now, of course we’re not trying to blame anyone, but when a straight A student comes in and starts causing trouble, then opens up about a troubled home-life with strange markings on her arms, you have to understand how suspicious that is.”

“Do you... You don’t seriously think we’re beating on her, do you?” My Dad speaks up, laughing once without humor.

“No, Mr. Hunter, but my job is to care for the wellbeing of every student here, which means I have to be sure.”

He reaches for the phone on his desk, and begins dialing a number.

“Hello, is this Family Services?” He greets with far too much cheer in his tone. My parents are writhing in panic in their seats. I’ve got to do something...

The door behind us opens suddenly, but no papers stir. I head the clicking of boots on the tile, and I immediately assume it’s Andy, until the man stands to my right, wearing a pair of midnight black aviator glasses and a black cowboy hat, calmly chewing gum.

“Is this asshole being trouble?” He sighs, gesturing towards the principle lazily, I nod just slightly.

“Okay,” He heaves a deep, exaggerated sigh, like it’s really doing him an effort to help out. He pulls off his sunglasses, hooking them on the neckline of his torn Jack Daniels’ t-shirt. He stares at the principle with a hard look of concentration until his cheerful rambling to Family Services faded until he was silent, holding the phone in confusion, then looking at my parents.

Then Ashley did something even stranger, he raises both arms, arching them away from himself as though he were holding invisible puppet strings. When the principle spoke, Ashley’s lips moved silently in sync.

“I am so very sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter! Please excuse my poor manners. Your family is free to go. I will sort out any other problems immediately. So sorry for the inconvienience.”

My parents looked at each other in confusion before slowly getting up, mumbling a confused ‘thank you’, and tugging me out beside them.

Ashley caught up quickly, planting himself in front of my parents, glaring at each of them for a few moments, before his eyes flashed a bright, vibrant red, sending a cold chill down my spine. He walked towards me and smirked, “Sorry, if you remember any of this, it takes away from the suspense.”

A murky cloud filled my brain, temporarily taking away my every memory and thought with it. It feels like dark, smokey fingers curling around my brain, plucking out select memories and removing them silently. The haze fades away, and I stood brain dead for a whole thirty seconds before my parents started shaking me and nudging me forward towards the exit impatiently.

Ashley flashed me a wicked smile before heading out ahead of us, confusing me greatly. Why was he in there for? Why was he even at the school for?...

We walked out into the light mist of rain, and the beginnings of an orange sunset. I overhear my parents talking about their heads spinning a bit, and I notice that I feel the same way...

Strange...

What the hell happened in there?

My parents offered to drive me home, since it was the end of the school day, and I normally walk home. I hesitate by the car, looking around for Andy.

“No, I think I’ll walk.”

“Are you sure?” They shot me a bewildered look, like they couldn’t believe I was opting to walk over riding with them. I shrug a bit, “Yeah, I like walking.”

They talked to me for a little while longer, and I snuck glances to the front doors of the school, searching for the mysterious ghost boy.

Ashley remained nearby, but not directly beside me, as my parents pulled away. I watch them go, then walk back towards the school to hunt discreetly for Andy. Ashley didn’t follow me like he actually wanted to, but because he had nowhere else to be. He didn’t speak or make any movement to acknowledge my presence, and I did the same.

We’re on strange terms... Only speaking when we run into each other, and for the most part, our conversations simply consist of lowkey insults.

I reach up involuntarily to where the burn marks reside just below the thin fabric of my jacket sleeve, and something clicks in my head... The memory come rushing back to mind, when I was in the hospital yesterday, Ashley helped me out of bed when Andy was sleeping...

And he grabbed me right there.

My blood freezes over, and I work hard to hide this new discovery. Could Ashley have caused them?

More differences are developing between Ashley and Andy. Andy has touched me hundreds of times over, and never once left any evidence of it. Ashley has... Different powers, it seems. He denies all accusations, but it’s very obvious that he is different.

I wonder if that’s just how ghosts are in general? Each one equipted with their own unique abilities, and like snowflakes, no two the same.

I can still hear his footsteps matching my own, a couple yards behind me, at a comfortable following distance. I keep my head low, and scan the parking lot for him beneath the cover of my hood.

Anxiety starts picking at me when I can’t find him. I circle the lot a few times, trying to remain inconspicious at the same time. He said he’d be here after school, so where is he?

“Where do think he went?” I ask Ashley reluctantly. He abandons his brooding personality momentarily to shrug, his eyes hidden behind the dark aviators.

“Probably went home.”

“We were supposed to meet here.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a partially cheerful tone, as he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. “He’s told me a lot of stuff before, too. Andy is a genuine guy, sure, but like anyone else, he has flaws and forgets shit all the time.”

I stand there awkwardly as the last students drive out of the lot, and I watch them go with my mellow mood turning sour. He is nowhere to be seen.

“Fine.” I grumble, storming past Ashley, catching his attention momentarily. “I’m going home. If he shows up, then good for him. He'll find his way home.”

I follow the sidewalk, and avoid making eye contact with everyone I pass. People are an inevitable nuisence, always asking questions and being nosy because you look like you should be sad or happy, no one can just let you be.

Neither could Ashley, apparently. After a few minutes of walking in silence, he speeds up until he’s towering over me just to my right. I ignore him there, because he’s brought a great deal of trouble into my life, and I don’t entirely trust him. Weird, unexplainable things happen in his presence.

“You look mad.” He observes, his tone sounding lazy and uncaring.

“Sure.”

“Why?”

“You already know why.” I mumble back, digging through my backpack for my headphones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s always trying to ‘make friends’ with me,” he defends, proceeding to smoke his cigarette to a nub before starting another. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Well, stop.” I sigh, “Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you in the past week, is that you never do something that you won’t benefit from. You’re not a selfless person, Ashley.”

He nods slowly, thoughtfully, as though he was actually contemplating my words as a possibility. He’s quiet for a minute before speaking again. “I’ve done good things, too.”

“What’s your point?”

“You make me out to be the devil because I’m trying to defend my best friend.”

“Against me.” I scoff, “It’s not defending when you’re trying to destroy something he loves. You don’t like, nor trust me, and the feeling is likewise. I’ve already tried, and now I’m tired. You can think I’m Medusa for all I care.”

“Andy’s not the saint you make him out to be.” Ashley snorts in annoyance. “You should at least know that, because he won’t ever tell you.”

“Why? Because he has too much pride?” I sigh in annoyance.

“No, because he doesn’t have enough. There’s one terrible thing that he’ll never forgive himself for once he realizes how it ends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He did something terrible to someone... A long time ago. As a result, that person is now dead, but he doesn’t know that. As far as he’s aware, she went on to lead a happy life.”

I frown in confusion, his words striking a chord. “Deseree?” I breathe, her name coming to mind immediately. I look to Ashley for confirmation, and he only purses his lips, eyes unreadable behind his dark glasses. “No,” he finally replies, “No, there was another girl.”

The way he says it strikes me odd, as though he’s trying to explain that it was not one or the other, but both.

“He’s happy in his delusional world, and I’d let him stay that way, but in some ways, he’s blind to how things actually are. He’s stubborn, and refuses to listen to anyone, which is why he has to learn these lessons the hard way.”

“Lessons?”

“He’s only seen a small portion of the crap he left behind when he moved to California. He doesn’t realize yet how many lives he’s accidentaly taken.”

I feel numb at his words, and I pause, unable to keep walking with this dark truth lingering between us like stagnant air.

“Has he ever actually killed someone?”

Ashley looks troubled by this question, and he refuses to answer it for a minute. We stand there, staring at each other until he can muster up the strength to answer.

“Yeah... Once. He was a stupid kid, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I’ll bet he leaves out how he was called murderer in school out of his list of reasons why he was bullied, right? Or how he wanted to die because of his actions?”

“What really happened?”

He looks around and frowns, “He was fifteen when it initially happened. He hung out with a bad crowd, and as a result, he got pulled into a bad situation. I was with him when it happened, and we were both scared shitless. We were dicking around with some mystery drugs in a junkie’s basement with some girls from our school. Andy helps this girl shoot up on heroine, and accidently gives her an overdose.” His frown deepens, and only the whistle of the wind in the creaking trees around us gives sound to the atmosphere.

“Can you imagine that?” He asks curiously, shaking his head. “Just trying to find where the hell you stand on the line between being a kid and being an adult, by playing around with drugs. He learned pretty quick that it was no game, and that if he was going to be playing with death, he couldn’t be bringing friends alone. Unfortunately, he did not learn that until after it had happened, and he’d already taken an innocent life through his actions, and that incident plagued him for years following it. Which, later fed into him being heavily bullied in high school, and it pushed him further to the edge as he ran from the problem. As a result, he became suicidal and unstable, tipping off everyone else around him like dominos, including myself.”

I look down, and continue walking, shock consuming my ability to speak... Andy had killed a girl on accident... And he never spoke of it, or even mentioned anything like that. He told the stories a bit differentely. In his stories, he was always the victim, left defenseless in wake of just trying to fit in with his peers. No, this was much different.

“Was there more than one?”

“Only the one he knew about, the other one he still doesn’t know about.”

“Would you ever tell him?”

“Maybe,” He shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Okay, let me rephrase... Would you yell it at him next time you get into an argument?” I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting for him to reply. His head is turned in my direction, but there’s no sign that he’s actually listening, or that he’s actually heard me.

“Would you?” I challege, “you can’t ever do that. Never do that. It’d break him.”
“He’s already broken!” Ashley snapped with surprising force, “he’s not a black-winged God here to sweep you off your feet and take you to fuckin’ prom, sweetheart!” he waves his arms in broad gestures, “he’s still fighting an unending battle inside his skull where he’s his own enemy. And maybe you can numb those thoughts when you’re around him, but as soon as you fall asleep and he is left alone, his mind will race back to those thoughts and continue to rip at the previous sets of wounds left behind. Here’s what you’re missing; you’re so caught up in treating him like a physical person that you’re forgetting about all the invisible qualities and qualms that make him him. Keep that in mind next time you try to obsess over his appearance, because there’s so much more. I’ve gotta go, kid.”

Ashley jogged off before I could even respond, or completely process what he’d said. I’m left to stand dumbfounded on the sidewalk.

“Hey!” I shout after him in frustration, but he makes it to the end of the block and turns right before I could even hope to stop him.

Huffing an angered breath, I tug my jacket closer to my body, grumbling to myself about an assortment of events that are currently angering me, one being the fact that I hadn’t bothered to change out of my gym clothes before leaving the school, so now I’m standing on the wet sidewalk with chilled chicken skin and a bad mood to match.

“Ashley you ass...” I mutter spitefully under my breath, walking in the direction of home.

~~~


I got home half an hour later. I would have been home much sooner had I not lingered and looked behind myself to many times in vain attempts to spot Andy creeping up the soggy sidewalk wearing his cheerful smile. When it never happened, I pulled my jacket close and power walked home, where warmer, drier clothing waited.

I let myself into the quiet house, but I know I’m not alone, because my parents’ car is in the driveway. There’s a good chance that more confrontation awaits me if I could seeking out either of my parents, so instead, I opt to silently ascend the stairs to my room to hide out for a bit.

Standing in front of my closet for a good, long while, I reach in and grab a pair of holey grey sweatpants and a tank top, and I switch them with my less fortunate pair of gym clothes. Once I’ve changed and feel like a reasonably human person again, I pace my room for a bit, searching for answers in the walls that did not possess them.

What on earth am I doing? Surely I am insane.

My best friend is a ghost and I talk to him like he’s real. What if it comes down to it, and he was never real at all? Just a strange manifestation of what my mind created to cope with seeing his death to make it easier to deal with. That feels logical, and I’d almost believe it if I hadn’t already seen how his presence alone makes people move faster in fear of being trampled by blue eyes. His cold glare making you feel small in your own skin, and forcing your limbs to move at a brisk pace. It’s hard to deny the level of influence he has over the living... Which proves he’s real, to some degree.

I pace a few minutes longer, then sit on my bed, and kick my feet like an impatient child while I weigh my options and put some genuine thought into it. As I’m sitting there, something catches my eye, and my gaze glides up.

I sit at the edge of my bed, staring up at the space just above my bedroom door. In the six inch space between the doorframe and the ceiling, hangs a simple, wooden cross.

I continue to sit there for several minutes before I jump up and exit my room, walking down the hall to the storage closet. I open it, rummage around a bit, and then produce a small step stool to help me in my task. As I carry it to my room, and position it directly beneath my now closed bedroom door, my mind is at war with itself. Part of my thoughts wants me to proceed, and succeed, and the other half is hesitantly reminding me how important religion used to be to me. This neglected part of my mind feels scared.

I stand back from the stool and take a good long look at the old cross above my door, then my eyes drift down to the little step stool, cheerfully waiting to be put to use. I don’t have the heart to use it just yet.

In my head, I'm trying to rationalize my thinking and my beliefs. From what I've seen, there is no God. There is no afterlife, just eternal wandering for those who find themselves in an unfortunate circumstance like death.

Andy came back with no real clue as to what he was, no one was there to tell him, or welcome him with smiles and a light at the end of a long tunnel. He simply told me that when he opened his eyes again, he was standing over himself, watching medics attempting CPR on his body as it grew cold from the absence of his soul. He figured things out for himself, and taught himself his own abilities. Aren’t there supposed to be angels guiding you through the process the way the bible has always depicted? Isn’t death about being greeted by everyone you lost?

Or maybe that all comes when you officially ‘cross over’, an event Andy had chosen to pass up. Maybe the days between your death and your funeral are your final judgement days of the last test, and after that, if you choose to cross over, then God sends you to Heaven or Hell, based on how you preformed.

It could also be left to multiple other possibilities... It could be because he has no religion that he was sort of left 'in between', and left to find his own way, or perhaps he'd sinned too much for any God to take pity on him. I can’t be for sure about the latter, because from what I gathered from Ashley earlier, he has a history of being a bad person, not intentionally, I don’t think, but he has done terrible things.

And then, there’s the final possibility... Maybe there's no God at all. Maybe it’s more of a passtime hobby for those who have to fill their head with fictional characters to make it through tough times.

This thought has haunted me all day since I got into that fight with my Dad. I said a lot of stuff out of anger and adrenaline, but like my Dad had said, you wouldn't accidentally say something like that unless it was a dark thought looming in the back of your head at all times. And maybe I’d always thought that, and was too scared to admit it to myself, and Andy simply confirmed it.

Now I sit here alone, trying to figure out what it is that I believe. I’ve never felt so lost in my whole life. It’s terrible to feel as though the one thing you grew up understanding and adoring turns out to possibly be fake, and I don’t know that I can handle that realization.

I still want to believe, because despite everything, it brings me comfort. Pitiful comfort, maybe, but comfort all the same.

With a sigh, I decide against the removal of the crucifix. I get up, and fold the step stool up and take it back to the closet in the hall, cursing myself under my breath for considering it at all in the first place.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why was I even considering taking down the cross. I'm confused and anxious, searching for anything to distract me from the crap I pulled upon myself.

I linger in the hallway for a bit, then I look up when I hear the drawn out, cautious footsteps approaching, I sigh a bit under my breath, and turn to see Ashley hesitating a few feet away.

“Hey.” I greet him with a nod, not quite feeling the energy to bring a fake smile to my face. He nods in response.

“What are you doing?” He asks, crossing his arms and studying me sharply. I shrug and laugh humorlessly, “I honestly don't know... I think I am losing my mind, agh.” I clutch my head for a moment, then ruffle my hair, pushing it off my forehead with a sigh.

He looks like he wants to leave, but there's a vague spark of curiosity in his eyes that makes him stay.

“Why's that?”

“There's clones after me, my friends hate me, my parents detest me, and there's something not quite right with town. How's life for you?”

He pauses before replying, carefully processing what I said. “Not quite that crazy... Clones, you said?”

I look him in the eye, then shrug. “People have been popping up, doing strange things, then they have no recollection of it later... Like it wasn't even them.”

After I finish telling him this unnecessary information, I shoot him a sympathetic smile, which fades into a frown quickly. “Sorry, that's probably not something you want to hear about right now. You have an exciting ghost life to be living and I'm rambling about conspiracies like the Illuminati is after me and the government wants to abduct my family.”

I leave him there in the hall, and return to my room without giving him a chance to reply his his typical sarcasm. He watches me go calmly, then goes downstairs. I shut my bedroom door and press my back against it, sighing into the dim darkness.

I cannot wait to have the power back. We've been keeping phones charged by putting them in the car, and that has been uneventful to run out in the rain just to charge your phone.

I go to my bed, and curl up in a ball, lazily pulling my blanket over myself. In the darkness, it feels as though no monsters could find me. I felt as safe as I could, considering the circumstances. Who knows when the next doppelgänger will show up and threaten mine or someone else's life. What if they went after CC, Jinxx or Jake? I could never forgive myself if something happened to them. It is crazy to think they were all complete strangers to me a few weeks ago, and now thinking about them gives me this strange feeling of welcomeness and family.

But what can I do besides hide out and pray? Squeezing the tiny crucifix around my neck, praying that everything will be better soon. I don't know who these clones are, or who's controlling them, if anyone... And if there is someone controlling them, why?

And why would they come after me and target only the people I love? Doesn't feel very coincidental.

I’ve wrecked my mind trying to remember someone I’d crossed in the past three weeks that could do such damage, but all suspects that came reasonably close were so embarrassingly stupid that I banned the thought.

My makeup is still on, and I feel the gritty coating on my skin that reminds me of the grimey school, and all I want right now is to go take a long shower and think in silence for a bit, but lucky me, that is not a luxury being offered at this time.

Even alone in my room, it feels loud, like my ears are ringing nonstop.

I roll over a bit and look at my window. It is open, just enough to let in the fresh spring breeze I have been missing.

I think I can hear birds chirping outside, but I'm not sure if it's simply my ears making up the noise to bring me calmness. Whatever it is, I think it's working.

I peel myself up from the mattress and pad across the carpeted floor, leaning over the window bench to peek outside. The air is still cool, but warmed by the sun that is still trying to make an appearance. The streets in front of my house glitter from the evaporating water slipping into the drains. Hopefully the worst of the storm has now passed

Above the town, the sky is a pale blue with shots of dark grey through it. Still, it looks serene and comforting despite the wreckage left behind in wake of the flood.

Our front yard is identical to our neighbors in terms of debris. Ink-smeared, week old news papers are tangled in the now overgrown grass and the hedged bordering the path to the front porch. Beer cans and bottles are broken, lying in heap among fallen brown leaves along the sidewalks.

Why on earth am I hiding in my room when it looks so fantastic outside? (Kind of) The first partially warm day I've seen in weeks over Pendant, and I'm hiding in my room from doppelgängers and other potential threats.

I set my concerns aside, and exit my room, grabbing a dry jacket from my closet as I go. When I get to the foyer, I cross paths with my Dad and my stomach immediately drops to my feet and the previous guilt returns.

“Hey, Ash!” He smiles at me warmly, confusing me greatly. If I were the parent of a kid like me, it'd take a crapload of self restraint not to strangle said kid.

“Hey Dad...” I pause awkwardly, “hey, I'm sorry for what happened last night.”

Then the strangest thing happened... He crooked his head in confusion and studied my face for a long moment before saying “Sorry, Ash, I'm drawing a blank. What happened?”

“Our argument?” I say it like a question, wringing my hands to control my anxiety.

“I don't remember an argument.” He shook his head, looking like he was trying to remember and replicate the same memory I was thinking of.

“Oh....” I drawled out, hesitating. “I must've just dreamt it, then.”

He smiles at me with a suspicious look in his eyes “weird thing to dream... Well, it's always better to dream than to act on bitter actions, I think. See you at dinner, honey.”

He proceeded to the living room, leaving me with a dumbfounded feeling. No... I know we fought, I remember it so clearly. It did happen, didn't it?

No.

I didn't dream it, I didn't imagine it. That was real...

Am I insane, then? No. No, because crazy things like this have been happening nonestop since a certain person returned to Pendant, and now I think I know for sure that Ashley has some sort of bizarre power that gives him the ability to pick and choose what memories to erase from anyone he chooses.

That’s not too insane of an accusation... Right?

Notes

This chapter is really long, and it started out as two seperate ones, but then I figured why not, and merged them.
I went to a camp in Nebraska for four days, and on the final night we had a dance with a DJ, so I requested We Don't Have to Dance, I filmed some of it here.
It was the most MAGICAL THING EVER. I was the only one who knew it, and I made it embarrassingly evident that I did with my obnoxious singing and dancing, which resulted in a few other kids asking me who the song was by because they liked it. Made my evening!!

Also! Andy and Juliet's cover of Adele's When We Were Young is out now! It will definitely be inspiring some future chapters! Beautifully epic track.

Hope yall are enjoying the story, because I'm on a roll with writing right now! Feel free to suggest any plot ideas, things to include, or things you want to see!
Shoutouts!
- BVBOD_Cat_ I'm glad you're loving the story!! It always makes my day to see readers getting invested in the plot. :D Also, thanks for the awesome song submission!
- Saber_Tooth