Pale hues of light shine down washing over my face, radiating it with comfortable heat that almost makes me want to close my eyes. Standing in the middle of a flowery field, my nostrils pull in the sweet scent of different aromas only to breathe them back out again through my parted lips.

I don't know where I am, but the peaceful environment makes me feel like I don't have to worry about anything. Closing my eyes completely, I tip my head to the sky to allow more warmth into my face. Somehow, I know my sister is here with me. Looking down, her eyes are on mine, and her lips stretched broadly in a smile that makes me smile back. She's happy. I'm happy.

The ground under my feet shifts and my legs start lifting off the ground. I'm floating. Levitating up, up I keep going.

My sister laughs and cheers for me.

I cheer right back from the feel of air hitting my face.

Still standing on the ground, I know she can't float the way I can. I don't know why. I just know she can't.

Reaching high enough, the field looks almost alive from up here. A shift of current halt my enjoyment instantly as every nerve tells me something isn't right. Looking back down to my sister, the ground holds my attention as parts of it start to open up only to allow smoke to come from its depth.

Then fire.

Fire erupts from more and more places that keep opening up bigger and bigger. I scream for my sister. Her hands shot up to me and her pleas for help sounds upward for me to save her. Willing my body to get back down, the grip of the sky keeps me in my place. Pushing harder, the sky pushes even harder.

I fight. I scream. Tears leak from my eyes as the fire now blazing, engulfing, destroying everything in its malice intent to cause harm on anything it touches, including my sister. Her pain, her fear as the blaze starts to take her whole is what causes the convulsion of my body.

My whole body violently shaking, my vision starts to blur. Feeling, rather than seeing, some kind of power erupts from my chest in such a force that got me bending over backward. The energy too much for my chest alone finds every other open space in my body to come out from. My mouth, my nostrils, even my body pores are feeling the surge. The sound of it too strong, I want to cover my ears from the impact it causes but my hands are useless.

Roaring more of it from my mouth, everything down below me is blown for miles and miles away.

Jolting upright from my bed, the repercussion of the dream so severe I can't stop the scream that tore itself from my throat, disturbing the quiet night. Mated strands of my hair cling to the sides of my face with pools of perspiration that drench every inch of my skin as if water has been poured over me. My beating heart is too loud for my ears, but I just can't bring myself to calm down even if this is the same dream that has been tormenting me for years.

Taking in a huff of a deep breath, I close my eyes for a second because I just need a moment to myself. Feeling myself relaxing, only then do I allow my body to lay back down for another try at sleep.

*****

The reflection looking back at me in my mirror is enough to bring a smug bend of my lips. The ripped, blue short shorts that look a lot shorter than when I first bought them are paired perfectly with the white tank top that has an enormous skull that covers almost the whole front part. Looking down at my feet, the brown ankle boots make me look like a country singer. Mom always hated my choices of attire. She was going to freak.

Choosing this attire isn't because I wanted to piss her off. Okay, maybe a little, but I refuse to put on a long, cocktail dress or whatever it is she wants me to wear. Especially for that town. Fuck no.

Thinking I don't want to go back to a town where my problems started in the first place, I don't have any will to hurry. So many bad memories surface whenever I have to think of it. How many times have I been called crazy? Lost cause? Two years away isn't nearly enough, but having finished with everything, I get in my black Jeep wrangler and a three-hour drive to my hometown starts.

*****

As my eyes wander on the streets of Cryptic Valley, I conclude that everything, just as I expected, looks exactly how I left them.

Dead.

Nothing has changed. Driving near my old high school, I don't stop the flash of a sneer on my lips. The only thing that was ever good there was the fact my sister was always beside me. Otherwise, I would have been alone.

Passing through an old tree that is said to have been alive the longest, the old lady, Ms. Mabel, still sits on the same old timber chair she has always sat on. Under the same tree.

I would pass her by on my way to, and from school every day. She never said anything to me even after almost four years of passing right in front of her. But looking at her now, her head bent down looking at something on her lap, as if sensing me watching her, her head jerks up and our eyes meet. She smiles. Lips pulled back, showing me her set of crooked teeth.

Taken by surprise, I blink.

"Did that old hag just smile at you? That isn't creepy at all." A high pitch scream resonates throughout the inside of my car coming from my wide-open mouth. My right hand on my fast-beating heart, I turn to my once empty passenger seat, to glare at my sister.

"Goddammit, Calla. You almost gave me a fucking heart attack."

"Gees, sorry," she says. "I just... had to be here for your return home. I know you need me."

Taking in a deeper breath to calm my heart down, the meaning of what she just said settles heavily on me because I do need her. Especially in this dreadful town.

"Thank you," I whisper my words of gratitude out since I should be able to handle everything on my own. But I still need her.

"Don't sweat it. I wouldn't miss this for shit. Besides, I wanna talk to you about something."

I roll my eyes then. "Of course, you do."

"Screw you." Her middle finger goes up, almost touching the side of my face. "Seriously though, there is a rumor going on in Under about...." A loud vibration from my middle compartment causes her voice to trail off and her eyes to shift to my phone.

Mom.

My brows pull inward with a dreaded feel as I stare at the device. Mom never calls. Only messaging. Been this way for a long time. With a deep sigh, I reach down and pick up the phone.

"Camilla, where on Earth are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago. Things are about to start."

Wincing, I momentarily yank my phone away from my ear to save my ringing eardrums before I put it back. "I'm on my way, I'm almost there. See you soon," I say, and without giving her anymore chance to speak, I drop the phone down.

"That was short." Calla's voice bounces off from the window back to me because her head is all the way turned, watching the pathway that leads to my parents' mansion. She always hated the way my relationship with mom was. "I wish you two would get along sometimes. You have no idea what you have, and you're just...wasting it."

"Oh, God. Please don't start with me."

"Yeah, whatever, I'm just saying."

The line of catering companies and decorators is taking up most of our front yard I'm having a hard time maneuvering to the parking lot. We've had parties over the years, but never to this extent, or maybe I just never cared enough to notice.

"Damn, how big is this thing?"

"Big, by the looks of it." Calla's head is almost hanging out of the window. Settling back inside, she has all her teeth showcasing in a broad smile. "So exciting. They invited the Mayor."

Throwing my sister a side look, it occurs to me this must be one of the few things she looks forward to. "How do you know all these things?"

A glint comes over her eyes and she raises a brow. "I have my ways," she says. "Besides, it's cool to spend time on this earth. Feels.... alive."

Getting out of the car, we stand shoulder to shoulder, facing the grand entrance of my home. Our home. Her usual, long gown brushes on the ground, but no dust cling to it. It's as if nothing can touch her. Not even me.

"Well, here we are." She raises her hand to gesture to the house. "Now that I got you here, I'll see you later. Gotta go."

Color drains from my face as my head snaps to her side only to see her already fading away. "What?" I say through my teeth so onlookers don't think I'm talking to myself. "Calla, what the hell. Come back here."

"You got this." Both her hands show me thumbs up before she completely disappears, leaving me standing there alone. Closing my eyes, I inwardly curse. So much for moral support.

Taking a step through the front door, Mom's voice barrages through my ears with her instructions to the hired service provider. Looking at her, I almost roll my eyes. Even with how chaotic everything seems to be, she stands tall and authoritative with six-inch, red high heels, and a black fitting dress that shows off all her curves. Her blonde hair, the same exact color as my own, flows down on her shoulders in big waves that seem to obey and follow every turn and twist of her body. Just like every other person in the room.

"Move, move, move, we are running out of time," she booms. "You! what are you doing with that?" Her red manicured finger is straight, pointing to a young man holding a paint of landscape. Beautiful from what I can see. Possibly expensive. He startles, looking at my mom now not sure what to do. "I said not to put anything there. And you, what are you doing standing around for? MOVE! I want everything to look spectacular, make sure all the preparations for the bar are ready. The flowers? Where are my flowers? Oh, okay, those are fine. You can leave them the way they are. For now."

Turning back to me, our eyes met. Gray against gray. I raise one of my arms for a simple wave. "Camilla? Good, you're here." Her eyes run down my whole body and I suppress a smile. "What in God's name are you wearing? I was very specific about you wearing something nice."

"Hello, to you too, mom," I say. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be in my room." Turning away from the chaos, I dart to the staircase that leads up to my room. How many times I have sat on those stairs, listening to mom and dad's harsh wipers that I knew were always about me? How many times have I dragged myself, stumbling drunk in the middle of the night after a long night out, trying to reach my room only to end up sleeping in one of the stairs because they are just too damn long for my tired legs to handle?

"The party starts in two hours," mom calls after me. "Be sure to be down by then. I'll send somebody up to bring you a dress. Thank God I prepared something for you beforehand."

*****

Staring at myself in my floor-length mirror, I appreciate mom's sense of fashion. The maroon bandage dress is hugging me just the way Mom's dress was hugging hers when I walked into the house. My cleavage, even though I almost have none, is pushed up, giving me the appearance of a full bust. My hair up, in a side high ponytail, with the waves falling to the side of my neck makes me feel like I'm about to step into high-end society. Never taken myself as one even if I know we are a high-end society. To tone myself down a little, I apply the barest minimum of makeup.

Finishing my look with a pair of black pumps that came with the dress, I dread the walk down the stairs. Most of the people coming to my parents' parties are usually new faces. Come to think of it, I never knew what the parties were about in the first place.

The entire first floor is crowded with suits and cocktail party dresses that flow around the place like it's a museum, and almost every one of the guests has a broad smile on their faces. Feeling all eyes are on me, I try to brush it aside as paranoia as I walk straight to the bar and order a glass of scotch.

Taking in a long sip, a current change of air is enough to make me turn my head to my side as words from my sister are spoke.

"Gah, If I could drink, I swear I would have ordered myself a glass of scotch." My sister's eyebrows are pulled all the way up as her eyes roam around the place. "Everybody here looks so plastic, look at them. Look at those two over there." She raises her finger, pointing to a couple standing at the side looking like their interests are more on the house, than what brought them here.

Taking another sip of my drink, I hide my smile with the glass of scotch because to acknowledge her, that's the best I can do in front of people. My eyes taking in everything that's going on, I don't see mom or dad.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the I-see-and-talk-to-my-dead-sister, girl. Time has been good to you. Any more ghosts lately?" Turning my head back around from the voice of him, I don't stop the hate and scowl in my face.

"Who the fuck invited you, Donovan?" Donovan is standing just a few feet away from me with a Champaign flute and his ever-taunting smile in place. I never liked him. Even when we were young. Back in high school, he never missed a chance to remind me I was a loner freak.

"Honey, my dad is the mayor. The mayor is invited. I'm the mayor's only son, ergo the invitation extended to me."

Looking at him, if it wasn't for his shitty personality, I think, Donovan could have had the potential to swipe any girl off their feet. Blond hair, green eyes, nice thin lips, and a beautiful face altogether. But his character makes everything ugly.

"Well, congratulations." Raising my glass in the air, I gulp down all its content before placing the glass back down on the counter. "Now get the fuck out of my face. Go find some other poor soul to make miserable."

"Camilla Sweetheart." My Aunt is parting everybody away from her path with her fast pace walk. Her arms wide open, I walk into them in a hug that warms up my whole body. "Oh, my dear, it has been so long since I last saw you."

"It's so good to see you, Aunt Marie," saying my truth out because of all my relatives, she is my favorite. Always supported me. Even when her sister-my mother-called her crazy for letting me live out my Ghost fantasy. That she should know better.

"Come, let me see you. Oh, you look so beautiful. Come sit down with me. I wanna ask you something." Pulling me behind her, she sits us down on the bar counter. "So, tell me. Have you begun to experience anything that might seem... weird, or maybe unexplainable, yet?"

My brows pull upward as I look into eyes that seem to watch me intently. "Aunt, Marie. I see ghosts, remember?"

"Oh, yes, yes, that may be considered as weird, wouldn't it?" Her fingers brush against her chin in thought. "However, I'm not talking about that. That's very trivial to what I'm asking."

"What are you are you asking then?"

"Guess you haven't then. I think you're a late bloomer." Looking at me, her eyes glazed over in thought. "A very late bloomer, indeed. Tell you what, don't hesitate to call me in case of anything. The spirits know your mother is useless. She turned her back on who she is a long time ago."

"What?"

"No matter." Getting up, she flips her golden blonde hair over her shoulder, while Calla and I share a look. "Anyway, it was nice to see you again. Do come have a drink with me later, yeah? I got something that needs to be taken care of."

Just like she came, rushing away, people move out of her way. Watching with deep thinking, I can't bring anything she said to make sense. Late bloomer? What?

"What was that about?" Calla's eyes are looking exactly where I'm looking.

"I have no idea." A new sense of determination settles in my mind. "But I intend to find out."