I stared at my reflection as I brushed my teeth the next morning, mechanically rubbing the brush over my teeth and tongue as I tilted my head to the side.

It had to be a dream.  I mean, it was vivid and all, but it had to be a dream.  The doors had been locked, the windows shut, and, most importantly, I'd never heard my bedroom door open or shut.  I overreacted to a dream that felt entirely too real.  People just don't up and disappear.

The end.

I spit into the sink before sticking my toothbrush under the running water to wash it off.  I dropped it down on the counter next to me – toiletries such as our toothbrush holder and paper cups hadn't been unearthed quite yet – before leaning down and sucking water into my mouth.

I slapped the water off once I spit again into the sink and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.  Walking out of the bathroom, I made it downstairs and into the kitchen where my mother was humming and dancing around in front of the sink.  She was wearing her red and black skirt today with a white t-shirt, silver bangles on her wrists that clinked together as she moved, and I'm sure she had on one of those horrendously multi-chained necklaces that went down to her waist.  I didn't know how she functioned with something like that.

"Morning," I grumbled, propping myself against the doorway.

"Good morning, sweetheart!" she sang, looking at me over her shoulder and grinning.  "Your father told me to take you car shopping today."

I perked up just a little.

"Where is he?"

"He had to go into the hospital this morning for a little bit.  To get his office set up and everything squared away, you know."

Ah, so the workaholic had already reared his ugly head.  Didn't take him long.

"Right.  How are we getting there, Mom?"

We were down to one car.  My mother hated driving – only doing so when absolutely necessary – and insisted on not having a car of her own.  Between selling Victoria and only having my father's Mercedes – and since he was already at his new home – getting around for the day didn't seem as though it was going to be an easy feat.

"I dropped your father off this morning," she chirped, fluffing one of her plants before dancing over to the wide window facing the front yard.  Well, that solved that.  "The car is ours for the day.  Have to get new cell phones, too, of course."

I nodded, watching as she set the small plant on the windowsill that was already full of others that looked exactly the same.  At this point in my life, I should have known the names and purposes of every single freaking plant in the continental United States.  Unfortunately, the minute my mother started talking about all the uses and functions of her precious herbs and plants, I tended to tune her out.

"And I have to call the telephone company," she continued, fluttering her hands around her as she moved around to grab yet another plant from a seemingly never-ending box of them.  "There's just so much to do today."

"What time do you have to get Dad?"

"He said to stop in when we were finished.  I figured that we'd get all the small errands done and then we could see about your car, yeah?"

I sighed inwardly, really not relishing the idea of running errands with my mother like I was ten and she couldn't leave me at home by myself.

"We have to sign you up for school, too."

I groaned aloud and she laughed, her earrings made from recycled… something… tinkling as she shook her head at me.  I had a week before I really had to think about anything like that.  Did she really have to bring it up now?

"One more year, my love.  Then we can talk about college."

She stuck the plant under the faucet and turned the water on.

"I'm not doing the doctor thing," I grumbled.  She hummed absently at me and I narrowed my eyes at her back.  "I'm not!"

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me, sweetheart."

Yeah, with you.  Can you make Dad adopt that same thought process?

"Yeah."

"Go get dressed."  She used one hand and shooed me away.  "We've got a lot to get done today."

I nodded and sighed heavily, pushing myself off the wall and starting back towards the stairs.  I stood off to the side of my bedroom door, poking my head inside and making sure that I was the only one in there.

Dream or not, it had freaked me out.  It wasn't often that I ran to my parents' room because of something stupid; I was eighteen and more than capable of handling things on my own.

It had just seemed so damn real.

Satisfied that a brunette was not standing in the middle of my room, I walked in and got changed.  With my jeans on and a black button up shirt, I slipped my feet into my well-worn sneakers before grabbing my wallet and making my way downstairs.  My mother was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes closed, her purse on her shoulder, her arms at her sides and her head thrown back.

Oh, for the love of…

"Mom!"

"Five seconds," she mumbled, not moving.

I closed my eyes and ran my hands through my hair, shaking my head and wondering where in the hell I'd even come from.

She called these her personal time outs.  When she wanted to get ready for the day or prepare herself for something, she stood stock still in the middle of a room – any room – and freaking meditated.  I was just glad that she didn't hum like I'd seen some of her other friends do while we were back home.

"Okay!" she chirped, grabbing the keys from the counter behind her and handing them to me.  "I'm ready!"

"Glad to hear it," I grumbled, turning on my heel and walking towards the door.

I made it out onto the porch and narrowed my eyes at the house across the street.  There was a bright red vintage Camaro in the driveway and to be perfectly honest, it made my mouth water a little bit.

Huh.  Maybe the spinsters had some relatives that still liked to visit them.  Maybe I could charm them out of their car…

We made our way to the Mercedes and I stopped halfway there when I saw the Camaro door open; my eyes focused on the long blonde hair and the trim waist that gracefully lifted itself from the front seat.  I licked my lips, watching as the goddess adjusted her shirt, bent down and grabbed her purse from the seat.

She had a very nice fucking ass.

I started walking again when my mother's humming made its way to my ears and I cleared my throat, keeping my eyes on the blonde as I walked over to the driver's side of the car.  The blonde turned, flipping her hair over her shoulder and met my gaze.  I slowly pulled the car door open, boldly meeting her eyes and watching as a slow smile graced her lips.  She wiggled the fingers on her free hand at me before sashaying her way up the walk and disappearing into the house.

Huh.  Maybe living on this street wouldn't be so bad after all.

~*~

Two hours later, I pulled into the driveway with my brand new Volvo, singing along to the radio and just generally starting to feel like myself again.

I wasn't going to think about the fifteen minutes where I'd been lost and turned around, heading in the wrong direction and forced to stop at a convenience store for directions.

Yeah, I stopped for directions.  That's how fucking lost I really was.  Pissed me off, too.

But now, I was back at the house with my new car and a new cell phone that would keep me busy for I don't know how long.  The phone company wouldn't be coming out until the next afternoon, so setting up my computer and getting online was out of the question until then.

I'd avoided having to talk to my father, much less see him, and I was more than happy with that.  The less I had to be in his presence when he was at work, the better.  The last thing I really needed was to have to listen to him lecture me about all the ways being a doctor would make me a better person.

I liked to think that I was a damn good person without aspiring to be a doctor.  He liked to remind me that I was the only Cullen son and should aspire to be the best I could be.  When I responded by asking him whether he wanted me to become a doctor or join the army, I usually got "the stare" and was ignored for the rest of the day.

Which, honestly, was completely fine with me.  At least he stopped bugging me about being a doctor and following in his footsteps for a few hours of the day.

I turned off the car and grabbed the keys, pushing open the door and stepping out.  I threw my keys up in the air, grinning as I caught them, and looked across the street.

The blonde was sitting in a lawn chair dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a pink tank top, with a magazine spread out on her lap.

Hell, it wasn't that warm.  Not that I was complaining…

"Are you gonna come over and talk to me or just ogle the goods?" she called out.

She didn't raise her head and I raised an eyebrow at her, impressed for reasons I wasn't one hundred percent sure of, then pocketed my keys and phone.

Well then…

I crossed the street, not bothering to look to see if anyone was coming, and stepped onto the lawn, walking over to her.  She looked up finally, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  She had bright blue eyes and extremely pouty, heart-shaped lips.  And from this vantage point, it was easy to see that she had a nice rack to go with the nice ass I'd seen earlier.

"I'm Rosalie Hale.  You're Edward Cullen."

"Stalking me already, are you?"

"Your father is the biggest thing to happen to this place since Little Miss Bella got herself killed."  She nodded towards the house and I barely managed to hide the shiver that ran down my spine.  "Everyone already knows who you are."

"What are you talking…?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter."  She waved me off and closed her magazine.  "When are you coming to get me?"

"Huh?"

The blonde – Rosalie – seemed a bit insane, further cementing my mental hospital theory.

"For a date.  I assume that's the reason you came over here."

This chick was beyond forward.  I wasn't sure what to do with it.

"I uh…"

"You'll want to be seen with me before school starts."  She licked her lips, bit her bottom lip, and looked me up and down.  "I want to be seen with you, too."

"Tomorrow night," I said quickly, nodding.  "I'll be here around seven."

"I'll be ready around seven-thirty."  She grabbed one side of her magazine and stood up, leaning forward and brushing her lips across my cheek.  "See you then, Ed."

I legitimately twitched as she turned on her heel and walked back towards the house.  There were very few things in the world that drove me up the wall.  Dreaming of very life-like brunettes standing in my bedroom and poking through my things was apparently one of them.  Another one was being called any version of Edward; Eddie, Ed… it all drove me fucking crazy.

At least she was hot.  I may be able to overlook the annoying name shortening.

I waited until she was inside the house before turning and making my way back across the street.  I shook my keys apart, damn near purring as I passed my car, and jogged up the front steps.  I stuck the key my mother had given me into the front door and walked in, whistling to myself as I stepped over the threshold.

Then I screamed and almost fell backwards onto the porch.  She was sitting there, on the same step she'd been sitting on when I first saw her, with a stupid little smirk on her face.  She was wearing a muted pink shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans with sneakers this time.

"You are not supposed to be real!" I exclaimed, pointing at her.  "I'm awake.  I know I'm awake."

"And I'm dead," she said easily, quirking an eyebrow at me.  "Did you have a point?"

I blinked at her.

"All right then."  She clapped her hands on her thighs and I watched as she stood up, bouncing down the stairs.  She wasn't transparent.  In fact, she seemed pretty fucking solid to me.  "You're apparently the only one that can see me.  Your parents are oblivious."

I opened my mouth and shut it again, still blinking rapidly at her.

"Alice says you're supposed to help me."

"I don't want to help you," I blurted out, shaking my head and slowly reaching out to close the front door.  "I don't want anything to do with this."

"That apparently wasn't your decision," she chirped, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  "You don't really have much of a say in the matter."

"I beg to differ."

"Beg all you want."  Then she grinned and my heart skipped a beat.  That wasn't right.  "You're stuck with me."

"I don't even know you!"

"I'm Bella.  You're Edward."

"You are the second person to introduce myself to me today," I grumbled, shaking my head and running a hand through my hair.  "Look, I don't know what you want.  I don't really care what you want, either.  I just want to get through this year without too much of a problem and you being dead and a ghost and… in my house… isn't gonna work for me.  So… go."

I made a shooing gesture with my hands and all she did was smirk at me, cross her arms over her chest and sit down on the bottom step of the stairs.

"Have I failed to mention that I can't leave?"

"What are you talking about?  Don't ghosts just… poof?"

"Can't," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders and leaning her elbows on the step behind her.

"Why?" I demanded, fisting my keys in my hand and glaring at her.

I watched her face darken, her eyes narrow, and everything about her seemed to radiate with something that seemed very close to anger.  I jumped when one of the light bulbs in the lamp next to me popped, little white shards of glass landing at my feet.  I looked down at the mess and then slowly up at her again, watching as she pursed her lips and closed her eyes.

"I just can't."

"Okay," I said slowly.

"Look."  She stood and I backed up, slamming back into the front door and silently cursing at myself.  "It's you and you can't change that.  You can see me and that makes all the difference.  Once you help me, I'll be out of your hair."

"I don't want to help.  Can't you just find someone else?"

I hated the way my voice shook.

"Nope.  Not an option.  It's you.  You're stuck.  The sooner you accept and deal with it, the sooner we can get on with it."

"I don't have to accept anything.  I have to be dreaming.  I have to be."  I kept my back pressed against the wall as I sidestepped my way into the kitchen and dropped my keys on the table.  I warily eyed the doorway, listening carefully for anymore breaking noises.  When I didn't hear anything else, I slowly made my way to the refrigerator and pulled the door open.  "This shit doesn't happen when you're awake.  People don't just talk to ghosts like they're having a normal conversation.  This shit doesn't happen in real life."

"No, it doesn't.  But it's happening, Edward."

I jumped, slamming the refrigerator door closed and quickly turning on my heel to see her standing in the archway, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned on the doorjamb.

"I'm sorry about the light," she said quietly, ducking her head and shuffling her feet.  "I forget what happens when I start to lose my temper."

"I can't help you."

"You can."

"I don't want to."

"Again, you don't have a choice."

"How did I get chosen, then?  I want to speak to someone to fix this."

She looked up at me again, one of her eyebrows quirked as she snorted and shook her head.  She pushed herself off from the doorjamb and walked over to me.  I pressed my back against the refrigerator and held my breath as she came to a stop in front of me.

"Hold your hand up."

"Why?" I asked, clearing my throat when my voice shook again.

The woman – ghost – could make a fucking light bulb explode within mere feet of where I stood; I did not want her touching me.

"You want to know why you can see me, why you were chosen to help me.  This is the only way I know how to show you."

"I don't…"

"I won't hurt you."  She smiled softly, reassuringly, and I swallowed hard.  "I couldn't even if I tried."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, watching carefully as she raised her own hand in front of me.

"Why should I trust you?"

"I'm not going anywhere."  She shrugged and tilted her head to the side.  "You're stuck with me, remember?"

I looked down at her palm and shook my head, sliding away from her and walking back out of the kitchen.  I looked down at the shattered light bulb as I passed it on my way to the stairs and spared a glance over my shoulder.  She was standing in the doorway, her bottom lip caught in between her teeth and her eyes looking impossibly… sad.

"Rosalie's just using you, by the way," she stated.  "She and her boyfriend have been on and off for most of their lives.  They're off right now and she's aiming to make him jealous."

"You don't…"

"She was my best friend.  I know."

I turned towards the front door when I heard two car doors slam closed.

"Why would you tell me…?"

"Don't get emotionally invested with her.  It won't lead anywhere."

I panicked when I heard footsteps on the porch stairs.

"You need to go," I hissed, inching towards the stairs.  "They'll see you."

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that!"

"You're paranoid, you know that, right?"

"Would you just go?" I asked, exasperated.

The doorknob turned and my father pushed the door open, walking in and raising an eyebrow at me as my mother brushed in by him.

"You all right, son?" he asked slowly, closing the door and setting his briefcase next to the shattered glass.  "What the hell happened here?"

"Uhm… it just… exploded.  On its own," I mumbled, looking over in the direction of the kitchen.  She was leaning up against the doorjamb and my heart leapt up into my throat as my mother started to turn in that direction.  "I heard something pop from upstairs and I came down to find this."

"You're a horrible liar, Edward," Bella drawled.  "Like, top of the line horrible.  I don't even think they have a name for how horrible of a liar you are."

I ground my teeth together, shooting nervous, annoyed glances over in her direction and swallowing hard when my mother walked… through her.  My mouth dropped open and I stared at her back, listening as she hummed and slid across the floor of the kitchen.  For a woman who had claimed to see ghosts and help them cross over, she was sure as fuck oblivious to the one she just fucking walked through.

"Oh, well, that's odd," my father mumbled, shrugging.  "Esme, where did we put the broom and dustpan?"

"I have to go," I squeaked, staring at Bella's smug face.  "I need… uhm… I think maybe I'll unpack some more."

"You'll have to tell me all about the car," he said absently, waving me off as he started for the kitchen as well.

"Right.  Yeah.  Sure.  It's the same as the other one.  Okay."

"All right, sounds good.  Have a good time."

As I sprinted up the stairs, I vaguely heard a tinkling, "I told you so," follow me before I slammed my bedroom door shut and sat down heavily on my bed.

Tomorrow, I was going to find the library and I was going to find a way to get this chick – ghost – out of my damn house.

It was official.  I was going to be bored out of my freaking mind within ten minutes of being here.  The entire time we'd been in Washington State, the only thing I'd seen that seemed remotely interesting in this tiny town was a video store connected to a laundromat.  I'd seen about six different guys standing around outside as we drove past and given the state of the town, it seemed like that must've been the hot place to be on a Friday night.

My parents were trying to torture me, I was sure of it.  Just because the state-of-the-art hospital had thrown more money at my father than we really knew what to do with, and my mother had found a house that was supposedly haunted, they thought they could just uproot my life and we could move to a completely different state.

More like a completely different universe.  This was nothing like California and I already missed all of my friends and the rest of our family.  We had landed in the middle of freaking nowhere with no one familiar even remotely close to us.  At the beginning of my senior year in high school, no less.

I sighed heavily and rested my chin in my hand as I stared out the window in the backseat of my father's Mercedes.  We'd sold my car.  My baby was in the hands of some other owner that didn't have the first clue as to how to really take care of it.  She'd just gotten her license a month before they bought Victoria – yes, I named my car.  Victoria the Volvo – and I'd cringed when she'd backed out of the driveway, nearly running into our mailbox.  I guess it was a good thing that I wouldn't be around the state to watch her ruin everything I'd put into it.

That didn't make me feel any better, though.

"There it is!" my mother squealed, clapping her hands together as she bounced up and down in the front seat.

I rolled my eyes and sat forward, looking up at the house that we'd be living in.  Well, it wasn't anything like I thought it would be, that's for sure.  For someone who'd just had more money than Bill Gates thrown at them to move their entire family out here, this house sure as fuck didn't show it.

It was a modest two-story brick house with a small porch and maybe a two-car driveway.  If I got a VW bug, it just might be able to fit in the driveway with the Mercedes.  There was a house across the street, one to the left and that was it for the entire street.  We were the last house on a dead end street and I was willing to bet money that the other two homes housed a couple of spinsters that bitched at each other over whose turn it was to feed the cat that died six years ago.

"Here?  Really?" I asked dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, really!" she exclaimed, turning and laughing at me, gently slapping my shoulder.  "Isn't it just perfect?"

"It's grand," I grumbled, sitting back and pushing out of the car once my father had parked it.

"I can't wait to set up my crystals!" my mother continued as she popped out of the car, dancing over to the porch steps before turning to look at us.  "We need to get these flowerbeds fixed ASAP, Carlisle.  I need to start my herb garden!"

I reached up and slapped my forehead, shaking my head and breathing deeply as I listened to my father's non-committal grunt.

"Yes, dear!" he called back before popping the trunk.  "Why don't we work on setting up our things for tonight first?"

"Oh, right, right," she laughed airily, dancing back to us.

Her purple dress moved with her and the tinkling of her bracelets and necklaces accompanied her as she hummed and I ran my hand down my face, looking up at the house and directly into the large window facing us.  I saw something flicker there for just a minute – something that looked suspiciously like a face – before it was gone.

I rolled my eyes at myself and shook my head once more before walking to the back of the car and grabbing as many of our bags as I could in one shot.

My mother must be rubbing off on me.  Ghosts didn't exist.  No matter how many times my mother had claimed to see one, or talk to one, or claim to help one cross over, I knew that there was no such thing as ghosts.  I loved my mother, but she was a little nuts when it came to the other-worldly shit she was so damn fond of.

I blame my grandmother.  She wasn't much better and she'd bragged time and time again that she'd taught my mother everything she knows.

I wish she hadn't.

"Our stuff is here, right dad?" I asked, grunting slightly as I walked up the porch stairs and waited for him to open the front door.

"Yeah," he grunted back, awkwardly sticking the key in the lock and pushing the door open with his foot.

"Oh my two manly men," my mom giggled as she followed me into the house.

I looked behind me briefly to find that she was carrying one little bag and blinked at her, shaking my head once more before walking into the house behind my father and dropping the bags on the hardwood floor.  I wandered into the living room, sighing as I saw all the boxes piled up in the middle.  The bigger stuff was pushed out against the walls, our entertainment cabinet torn apart and looking sad without all of my school pictures and mother's knickknacks on the shelves.

"Everything should be in the rooms already," my dad announced, walking up behind me and standing awkwardly at my side.  "Yours faces the front."

Ah, so the window was mine.  Maybe I could convince him to build a balcony or something so that I'd be able to escape the tiny house if I wanted to.

"Great."

"It won't be that bad here, son.  You'll see."

He awkwardly patted my back before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.  I rolled my eyes before walking out of the living room and grabbing the bags from the floor that were mine.  I could hear my parents in the kitchen, my mother's high-pitched, excited voice telling my father all about what she'd be able to do with the kitchen, and made my way up the stairs.  I found the room that belonged to me, comforted only slightly by the fact that my bed, couch, nightstand and desk were already in there.  Boxes that had my messy handwriting written on the side were piled near what I assumed was the closet and I dropped the bags from my shoulder before walking over to them.

"Edward!  Sweetie!  Come on down here for a minute!"

I grunted and sighed, looking longingly at the boxes full of my stuff before turning on my heel and walking back down the stairs.

"We're gonna find someplace to eat before we start unpacking," my dad sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair and staring at my mother's back as she continued to dance around the kitchen.

That's what she did when she was excited; she danced.  It's like she forgot that the world didn't know there was a constant stream of harps and bells and whatever other musical instruments she adored playing on a loop in her head.  I found it interesting when I was a little boy.  Now, I just found it slightly embarrassing.  Especially when she did it out in public.

"Okay," I said slowly.  "Why didn't we do that before we got here?"

"Don't… question things," he sighed, shaking his head and jingling the keys in his hand.  "Come on, Esme!  It'll be dark soon and we need to get back to set up the lamps!"

"There are these things, dad, called lights."  I pointed to the ceiling and looked up, my eyes widening when I saw a smooth surface.  "What the hell…?"

"It's an old house, Edward.  There aren't many overhead lights."

Well if that wasn't just fucking perfect, I didn't know what was.  I sure as hell hoped that we at least had running water and that the toilet in the bathroom I'd spotted briefly wasn't just for show.  I was not traipsing through the backyard in the middle of the night when I needed to use the damn bathroom.

"Perfect," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the banister.

"You'll adjust," he grumbled.  "You don't have a choice."

"Never do, do I?" I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

His head snapped in my direction and we locked eyes for a minute before he looked away and bellowed for my mother.

Classic Carlisle avoidance technique.  Call for mom when he doesn't want to answer something.

"Esme!" he yelled, stomping into the kitchen.  "Come on!"

I sighed heavily and stood up straight, running my hands through my always unruly dark brown hair.  I heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up, my heart beating a little faster than normal when they immediately stopped.

There wasn't anyone there.

I looked at every step carefully before gently bouncing from foot-to-foot, listening carefully to see if maybe my movement had somehow made the sound.

They didn't.

"All right, let's go," my father grumbled, waving an impatient hand at me as he walked back into the foyer.

I gave one more suspicious look to the stairs before walking over to the door and holding it open to let my mother dance out ahead of me.  She reached behind her, cupped my cheek and leaned up to kiss my nose.

"My boy," she whispered.

I shot her a tight smile and nodded, turning briefly to lock the door.

She was sitting on the stairs, her chin in her hand and long brown hair cascading over her shoulders.  She had big brown eyes and was relatively thin, wearing a dark green sweater and a pair of light blue jeans.  She had white socks on her feet and she looked… curious.

"What the…?" I breathed, staring at her.  Her eyes widened and she sat up straight, slowly, her hand falling down into her lap.  "Who are…?"

"Edward!" my father shouted.

I looked away from the girl and over my shoulder, finding that my parents were standing by their open doors.  My mother's head was cocked to the side and my father just looked… enraged.

Well, that really wasn't anything new when he was around me anyway.

I looked back towards the stairs to see that they were empty.  I blinked a few times, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it before I closed the door and started back towards the car.

"There was no one else in the house, right?" I asked, pointing over my shoulder as I walked towards them.

"No, Edward, we are the only people that have set foot in this house since the Swan's left three years ago," my father grumbled.  "Why?"

"Why'd they move?"

"Their daughter died," my mother answered, shrugging her shoulders as if it were no big thing.

A cold chill ran up my spine and I shook my head, wrapping my arms around my waist and turning to look up at the window into my room.

"Did you see something, sweetie?"

She sounded way too excited.

"No," I mumbled, shaking my head again before walking to my mother's side of the car and opening up the back door.  "Just tired."

"Aw, well, we'll get something to eat and then come home to relax a little, all right?"

She cupped my cheek again before turning and falling gracefully into the front seat.  My father grunted his agreement before disappearing into the car as well.

"Yeah, fine," I grumbled, sliding into the car and slamming the door closed.

Home.  My home was back in California with my friends and the rest of my family.  This place would never be home.  Nothing my parents did or didn't do would ever be able to change that.

~*~

It was too damn quiet.  I was used to noise at night - cars speeding by my window, car alarms going off and dogs barking well into the night.

There was absolutely nothing going on at night in Forks, Washington and it was driving me insane.

I turned over in my bed, staring at the curtains in my window.  I'd had enough energy to make my bed and find my alarm clock from the pile of boxes in the corner before my father had yelled for me to help out with setting up the lights.

Apparently, plugging a few lamps into the right sockets to make them work with the light switches was just way too much for him to handle on his own.  When that was finished, I'd been roped into setting up the entertainment cabinet and helping him hook up the cable so that he could watch his precious CNN before going to bed like he always did.  My mother, on the other hand, had gotten all of her precious crystals set up around the house and had then started turning every corner of every room into her little plant shrines like she always did.

I'd hoped that our new house wouldn't resemble as much of a greenhouse as it had before, but alas, I was wrong.

When I was finally released from the foolish things my father couldn't figure out on his own, I'd managed to find my curtains and had spent twenty minutes fighting to get them on the rod.  Then, I spent another half an hour trying to hang it up without one end of the curtains coming off.  The window was a lot wider than I'd originally thought and the curtains I had hanging there now barely covered the glass.

They'd do for now.  Mom had already mentioned something about going into the next town over – because God knows, there wasn't a mall in this tiny-ass town – to get some essentials over the weekend.  I'd have to remember to tell her that I needed new curtains.

After the window incident, I'd given up on trying to get anything else done.  If it took me that long to get the damn curtains hung up, I didn't want to think about how long it would take me to try hooking up my computer or stereo system.  So I'd plugged in my alarm clock, set the time, made my bed and got ready to get into it.  My parents were downstairs and I could hear them on the couch, sounding more like teenagers on their third or fourth date as opposed to grown adults with a teenage son right upstairs, when I walked out of my room and into the only bathroom in the entire house.

This was gonna get old quick.

And after lying in bed for the past three hours, the last thing I could actually do was sleep.  I huffed and turned on my other side, sitting up slightly to punch my pillow a few times in hopes that it would make me sleep a little better before I collapsed onto it again.  I closed my eyes, sighing and bringing my knees up to my chest.

I was almost asleep when I heard a rustling noise coming from the corner of the room where all my boxes were.  I opened one eye and looked around, waiting to see if I heard it again.  When I didn't, I shook my head, pulled my pillow over my head and attempted sleep once more.

Stupid new house with new sounds that I wasn't familiar with.

It was only when I heard a scoff – a human scoff – that I shot up in bed, my pillow flying to the floor as I stared at the stack of boxes in the corner.  My eyes widened when I saw the same girl I'd seen sitting on the staircase earlier standing there with her head stuffed inside one of my boxes.

"Who the fuck are you?" I exclaimed, quickly climbing out of bed and wishing I knew where I'd put my damn baseball bat.

Woman or not, she was in my house, looking through my things.  She could've been completely insane, for all I knew.  There had to be an asylum around here or something.  Of course my parents would pick a town with no mall, no nothing, but oh, it had a freaking mental hospital pretty damn close to the house.

She squeaked and turned around quickly, her hands up in the air and a look of pure surprise on her face.

"What?" she asked.

"Why are you asking me what?  Who are you?"

I inched towards the door, keeping my eyes on her as she let her hands fall to her sides.

"You can see me."

"Of course I can see you!  Answer me!"

"Huh."  She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head at me.  "That's weird."

"Who.  Are.  You?" I asked through my teeth, still inching towards the door.

"Doesn't matter."  She waved a hand at me before reaching up and tapping the end of her nose with her pointer finger.  "Well, this changes things."

"What are you talking about?  Why are you in my house?  How did you get here?"

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back and gripping her sides.  Well, apparently, I was a fucking riot.

"Oh, honey, you have no idea," she stated, shaking her head when she'd calmed down.  "You should go back to sleep."

"You're… what are you doing here?  I don't have anything!"

"That is not true."  She pointed and took a step towards me.  "You have everything."

"What do you want?  Take it.  You can have it."

She tilted her head at me and crossed her arms over her chest, almost seeming to be contemplating something.

"I'll let you know."

"You'll what?"

"I'll let you know," she repeated, nodding once and grinning at me.  "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

She walked around me and opened the door, disappearing into the hallway.  I shook my head, my mouth hanging open as I quickly followed her.

Well, tried to follow her.  There was no one there.  The hallway was completely silent.  There were no footsteps on the stairs and as I waited, I didn't hear the front door close.  Shaking my head, I made a beeline towards my parent's bedroom and burst in through the door, flicking on the lights.  My father grumbled, my mother screeched and I braced my hands on the end of their king-sized sleigh bed.

"There's someone in the house," I said evenly.

"Edward," my dad sighed heavily.

"There's someone here!" I insisted, shaking the bed frame.

"Honey, go look," my mother yawned, placing her hand on my father's shoulder.

Well, I'm glad the fact that someone had managed to break into our house and then fucking disappear seemed to worry them.

My father grumbled as he stood up and slid his feet into his worn-out slippers, grabbing his robe from the end of the bed and glaring at me as he walked out of the room.  I stayed with my mother, sitting down on the antique trunk that had been my great-grandmother's and rubbed my hands over my face.

"Who do you think you saw, honey?"

"I don't know.  It was a girl," I grumbled, peeking through my fingers at the wooden floorboards.

"Was she nice?"

I blinked and groaned, running my hands up my face and tangling them in my hair.  Only my mother would ask if the person in our house, looking through my things and probably aiming to steal something, was nice.

Sometimes, I was positive that I was adopted.

My father came back in then, still glaring at me as he slid the robe from his shoulders and threw it on the end of the bed frame.

"There's no one here, Edward.  Go back to bed."

He flicked the lights off and I glared at his retreating form, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I saw someone.  I talked to her."

"Honey, do you wanna sleep with us?" my mother asked sleepily, and I saw her raise her arm, taking the blankets with her.

I blinked at her form and shook my head, standing up and waving my hands at the both of them before walking out of the room and back towards my own.  I glared at the stack of boxes in the corner and firmly shut the door behind me before I grabbed my pillow from the floor and crawled back into bed.

I wanted to go home.