Past Midnight

You could have all the crazy thoughts you wanted, as long as you smiled and kept them to yourself.

Who cares what other people think? Don't let the opinions of others define you.

I had learned how to leave a place behind without leaving a piece of myself along with it, but more important, I had taught myself how to be detached. I never joined teams or clubs, and I doubted my picture appeared in a single yearbook. I was, in a way, a ghost: no one could prove I had ever existed once I physically left a location.

I wanted someone to gaze at me that way, someone to share a truly incredible moment with. I wondered how long I would have to wait.

I was never normal, but I liked to pretend that I was. It usually took a few months before everyone else caught on.

As we headed toward the living room, I couldn’t help feeling dread. It was as if I was being led to my own beheading.

Too cold,” I mumbled. A second later, I felt a warm sensation, almost as if someone was lowering a blanket onto me. “Charlotte.” It was just a whisper, faint and far away.

I froze, my hand on the wall, and listened. Someone was definitely upstairs. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone and took a step back toward the front door. I kept my eyes on the stairs and my hand on the cell phone. A light flashed across the hallway

Do you see those white shapes?” he asked. I sucked in my breath. “What is it?” Mom shook her head. “We’re not sure yet. But, Charlotte, whatever they are, it appears that they followed us here.

My legs felt shaky and I gripped the back of Dad’s chair. The still images on the screen stared back at me. “Do you know what caused it?” I asked. No one said anything. I looked at Mom. “What triggered it?” “You did,” she said gently. “We think you’re the trigger.

I see her,” a man’s voice whispered. A chill spread through me. Shane played it again. Never had three little words terrified me so much. I see her.

It was strangely simple the way that one thing suddenly defined you to other people.