I still felt dead tired when I woke up later that afternoon, which I expected. I always felt like crap after an investigation, especially one that went on until the next morning. Usually, we would be done by three or four in the morning, but this one had lasted all night. Thinking back, I wished I hadn't gone.

I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that something was... off. I'd always worried about something following me home, but usually said a prayer of protection to hopefully prevent it, however, this felt different. Not like something had followed me home, but like the negativity in that place had rubbed off on me, somehow. Maybe it was only my imagination or the bad dream I'd had this morning. Either way, I didn't like it.

I took some Ibuprofen, hoping it'd stop the jack-hammering in my head, before heading down for breakfast, which ended up actually being a late lunch, since it was almost four o'clock. "What are you doing here?" I asked my sister, who was sitting at the bar that lined one side of the big island that took up too much space in the kitchen. "I thought you'd be with Derrick, today."

"I'm going to be. He had football practice, so he's picking me up in a bit." She frowned. "He's late, actually."

"What else is new?" I didn't hide the fact that I didn't like her boyfriend. They'd only been together a couple of weeks, but the way they went on, even in public, you'd think they'd been together a lot longer. "I'm sure he got sidetracked," I added, "by the cheerleaders."

"Cheerleaders don't go to practices and, even if they did, he wouldn't get sidetracked by one," she argued.

I was in no mood to aggravate her about her poor choice in boyfriends, so I continued to get the milk and cereal out, pouring myself a big bowl. "Where's Mom and Dad?"

"They went out on the lake with the Fergusons. Mom said to tell you they might not be home for dinner."

"Of course not."

"I'm glad I'm leaving today, too. You're grumpy," she said, causing me to shrug, unable to disagree. "Are you sure you're okay? After freaking out at school and—"

"I'm fine," I said, cutting her off. I in no way wanted to be reminded of that. "Are you going to be home for supper? Maybe we could order pizza or something and watch a movie."

"No, Derrick said he wanted to go to the movies. You can come with us, if you want. I'm sure he's got a friend who'd be happy to keep you company," she said, winking at me.

"No, my head's killing me, so I may just hang out for a bit and go back to bed."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself." She hopped down off the stool. "If you change your mind, let me know and we'll meet you."

"Thanks, but I'll be okay."

There was no way I'd torture myself through a movie with Derrick, who I'm sure would either keep talking through the whole thing, since he was rude like that, or worse, he would find something funny and laugh out loud, which made me think of what a donkey would sound like if it was being abused. I don't see how Kylie could put up with it, personally, but to each his own.

She looked down at her phone. "Well, he's here, so I'll see you later."

My mouth was full of Cocoa Puffs, so I simply threw my hand up at her as she walked out. Once I was finished, I went to the sink to rinse my bowl out, trying not to think about the night before. This entire weekend had been crazy, so I couldn't wait for Monday to come, despite the fact that I loathed Mondays.

I'd just turned the water off when I heard Kylie come back in. "Did you forget something?" I asked, turning around to find the kitchen empty. "Kylie?" I heard footsteps upstairs and assumed she was in her room. Maybe she and Derrick had a fight or something. One could only hope.

I headed upstairs to see what she was doing, but she wasn't in her room. I yelled for her, but the house had abruptly gone silent. As I stood in the hall, I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end, causing me to sprint to my room and shut the door, locking it behind me. I stood there listening, but heard nothing.

I stepped away from the door, still listening, when something grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream, but they covered my mouth, making it hard to breathe, let alone scream. Aside from the knife I felt pressed against my throat, their hands were ice cold, both causing me to freeze up, no longer fighting. I heard myself whimper, which only made them jerk me to the side, away from the door, and hold me tighter, causing the knife to start to cut into my skin. It was at that moment that I knew I'd either be raped or killed... maybe both.

Silent tears were pouring from my eyes, which I knew the intruder felt as they pulled me toward my bed and tugged at my shirt, trying to pull it off of me, ripping the hem. Whoever this was, they obviously had no empathy, ignoring my crying, which terrified me even more, knowing they were capable of anything.

It became apparent that my shirt wasn't coming off unless they let go of my mouth, so they started yanking at my shorts, instead, which came off in one tug. They jostled me around until I felt the knife on my hip and, with a quick yank, it sliced one side of my panties, causing them to join my shorts on the floor.

No. This can't be happening. No. Noooo!

Fear seemed to take over and cause me to fight, once again. I refused to let this monster rape me. My first time was going to be special, willingly given, not stolen. Not like this.

I tried to think back over all the defensive tactics I'd learned over the years, never thinking I'd ever have to use them. I couldn't get to their eyes to gouge one out, and I couldn't get turned to kick their balls into their stomach. The only other things I could think to do was stomp their foot or elbow their ribs, maybe surprising them so I could get myself free, somehow. Since I was barefooted, I went for option two, ramming my bony elbow so hard into their chest that I actually thought I felt their ribs separate. When they let out what sounded like a hiss followed by a sinister laugh, I assumed my effort had been futile.

Without warning, pain radiated from the top of my head to the base of my skull, causing me to see stars right before my vision started to fade and I hit the floor. I don't know what they'd hit me with, since they only had one free hand, the other one still covering my mouth, or how they'd managed to hit me so hard, but what I did know was that I would no longer be able to fight them off.

As the intruder held me face down against the floor, I thought about my family coming home to find that I'd been raped and murdered, hoping he didn't make a huge mess that my parents or Kylie would find. I hoped he wouldn't get my blood everywhere and that he wouldn't leave me lying here naked once he was done. Maybe he would take my body with him so he could bury it somewhere, causing my parents to look for me forever. I couldn't decide which one was worse, actually seeing me dead or wondering forever if I was.

I didn't have to think about my death long. Within seconds, my head felt like it had exploded and I was fading away. Who knew when I woke up this morning that it would be the last time that I'd ever wake up again? I sure didn't, yet here I was, dying.

***

"Amber?" I thought I heard Mom ask, but knew that was impossible, since I was dead. "Amber! What's wrong?" I even thought I could feel her tugging on me as she yelled for my dad. "Michael! Michael, get up here!"

I felt myself rocking back and forth and could taste salt in my mouth. Ghosts might be able to move, but I doubt they could still taste. Could ghosts cry? Apparently, they could, since I was.

"What are you yelling—" My dad's words were cut off when he saw me. "Amber? Amber, what's wrong?" His voice sounded as fear-filled as I was.

I shook my head, or at least I thought I did. However, I wasn't sure of anything at this point. When I realized I was safe, my fear was replaced by confusion. I'd been raped and killed, or at least that's what it had felt like, yet here I was, being comforted by my parents, the ones I didn't want to find me dead.

But I'm not dead. How can I not be dead?

Remembering that my panties had been cut off, I quickly started tugging at my blanket, trying to cover myself up, but my mom grabbed my hands. "Amber, what are you doing?"

"What's wrong with her?" Dad asked.

"I don't know. Amber, tell us what's wrong. Are you hurting? In pain? Do we need to call for help?" Her voice was panicked. "Please, talk to us."

"Someone broke into the house and...." My sobs cut off my words. I heard Dad say something but Mom held up her hand to quiet him. "He... he...." I couldn't get the word out.

"I'm calling the police," Dad said.

"No... no... no...." I didn't want to have to relive what had happened, again, knowing I'd have to recount every detail. "No!"

Once they calmed me back down again was when I realized my clothes—the ones that had been torn off of me—were still intact. I actually found myself reaching down and pulling at the material, assuming he'd put them back on me. But why? I reached inside them and felt my panties, which were also intact.

"That's impossible," I whispered. "He ripped them off."

I ran to the bathroom, with my parents close behind, to look at myself, knowing my throat would be cut, and surely my head would be bleeding. I'd been hit so hard, there's no way it couldn't be. As I flipped on the light, the fear, shock, and confusion was evident in my reflection, but that was it. No cuts, no bruises or blood, not even a scratch. I shook my head as I backed away from the mirror.

"Amber, maybe you should lie back down," Mom urged.

"But someone was here. They... they tried to kill me. He had a knife and—" I started to say he cut my throat, but there was no cut there. I also started to say he'd ripped my clothes off and raped me, but my clothes looked exactly like they had when I got up, not a single tear or hole. There was no proof that anything had happened at all.

I shook my head. "Maybe it was just a bad dream," I lied, knowing I hadn't been asleep.

I thought about what had happened at Kylie's school, how I'd fallen asleep and the nightmare that followed, but this was different. This was real... or at least I thought it was, but as I ran my finger back and forth across the hem of my shirt, I knew better.

Mom patted my cheek, concern evident all over her face, while Dad stood behind her looking a bit pale. "That must've been some dream," she said. "It seemed to stay with you even when you woke up."

I nodded as she led me back to my room, finally calmed down enough so I wasn't hyperventilating. "Yeah, it stayed with me. A nightmare." One that I had while I was awake. "I think I'm going to take a bath and go to bed early."

"Are you sure you're okay? You looked terrified, crying and thrashing around in your bed."

I was terrified. I still am. "Yeah, I'm okay." Even though I didn't want to be alone, I didn't want them staring at me like I was crazy, either. "Really, it was just a bad dream."

She looked at me a minute before answering. "Well, I'll check on you in a little bit to make sure, okay?"

I nodded. "Thanks."

Walking back into my room, I thought about what had happened, knowing it wasn't a dream. What happened earlier at the gym was a dream, but not this. There's no way. I'd felt the coldness of his hand and smelled the mustiness of his jacket.

The smell—I knew that smell. It was the smell that permeated through Smoky Mountain Sanatorium.

I decided to call Nick, hoping he'd hear me out and not assume I was still scared from last night, but when I picked up my phone and looked up his contact, I debated on calling Erik instead. Knowing Nick, he'd laugh at me and tell everyone I was crazy. Maybe I was.

Ultimately deciding to call Nick, I thought about what I was going to say as the phone rang and how I could make it sound less insane, which was virtually impossible. There was no way to tell someone I'd had two violent nightmares, one while asleep and one while awake, and not sound insane.

After several rings, I thought his voicemail was going to pick up, but then he answered, sounding like he'd dropped his phone. "Nick, listen, something strange has been happening and I didn't know who else to call. I think it has something to do with... with the sanatorium." I started to say Eleanor, but was afraid to say her name out loud, like she'd hear me or something. Just thinking it sent a shiver down my spine. "Are you there?"

"Amber...," he whispered.

"Nick? What's wrong?"

"Ambeeeerrrr!" His whisper turned into a scream that made me drop my phone, and even though I'd scooted away from it, I could still hear him screaming... until the line went dead.