The pounding in my veins is enough to get my heart throbbing, the tension thick in the air as I stagger back and try to avoid the fire. It's tall, rich flames lick the walls and the floor in front of me, and I cannot move. I'm beginning to think it's hopeless, but suddenly a figure appears behind the fire. He is so close, and yet just out of reach.

His blurry features are impossible to make out, all I can see is that he is incredibly pale, but he reaches out to me and calls a name. It's a name that I'm almost certain I've heard before, yet for some reason, I can't figure out where.

"Isabelle! Isabelle!" He screams, holding out his arms as the floor below me begins to crack under the pressure of the heat.

I know I'm about to fall to the floor below. But the fire has other plans. It consumes me, yet I feel no pain. I feel as though I am being punished. But, punished for what? For something I did? For something I've been accused of?

I fall back, the floor collapsing, and can hear my shriek as it escapes my lips as I succumb to the inevitable fate. This is how I died. Or so it would seem. But who am I? Who is Isabelle? Why does that name sound so familiar?

I jolt awake, my alarm clock blaring. I smack it with as much force as possible before running my hands through my choppy, dirty blonde hair as it hangs just above my shoulders. I can feel the cold sweat sticking to me, and I make my best attempt to wipe it away as I sit up in my boyfriends' bed.

Since we moved hours away from home to go to college together and study for degrees in art, I've been living with him in a small one-bathroom studio apartment. I can hear the shower running, and it's an oddly soothing sound compared to the crackling sound the fire had made in my dream.

"Hey, hon, do you want pancakes?" I yell, knowing he can hear me.

Our place is pretty basic, the bedroom, living room, and kitchen all in one big room and the bathroom is just to the right of our bed. So, when he doesn't answer, I get worried. I creep out of bed, my feet touching the cold tile floor causing me to shiver, and make my way over to the bathroom.

"Joey?" I peer into the bathroom as I open the door, only to see that it isn't the shower running at all.

The sink is pouring at full blast, spilling out and making a mess all over the counter. I roll my eyes, scoffing and turning off the faucet before scowling at the empty air.

"Ben?" I say in an annoyed tone. "Ugh. Come on, Benjamin, I know it's you. And, look, we've been over this, you can't just turn on my stuff. It isn't even mine."

His ghostly voice echoes in the room, and I try to stop myself from letting out the aggravated sigh that builds up in my chest.

"Good morning to you too, Phoebe. Bold of you to assume I'm the one messing with your faucet." I can hear the smirk lacing his breath, and it takes every ounce of my mental will not to punch the space around me.

"Don't, and I mean don't, try anything funny. Joeys had enough of my weird explanations for your crap as it is, and I cannot put up with another fight." I frown, exasperated beyond words.

"Wasn't me." He says innocently.

I glare at the empty space in front of me, and Ben continues the argument.

"What? I swear." He says in that 'who, me?' tone.

"The toaster." I remind him.

"Mhm." He replies, sounding confused.

"My linen closet completely a mess." I remind him again. "The dishwasher. The stove. My microwave. Joeys shirt with the iron left on."

"Ok, ok." He groans. "It wasn't me... this time."

I think back fondly to the time that he destroyed my linen closet in an attempt to stop me from leaving. I would say he took the news of me moving in with Joey badly, but that would be the understatement of the year. So, we'll say he has a slight temper. It was, to be fair, my fault. I had told him he needed to move and find somebody else to nag and that he was annoying. So I guess he just got even.

Since we've known each other for a little over three years, I tend to believe him when he tells me something. He isn't one to lie, and he certainly isn't one to pass up the chance at owning up to his 'pranks.' One time, he knocked over the bottle of shampoo when I left it on the counter to remind me about it, and I'd yelled at him. The thing is, yelling at a ghost is a bad idea as it is. Yelling at a ghost when your 22-year-old boyfriend of four years is in the next room? Well, yeah, I won't even go there. Let's say it was a long night.

I shake my head, walk out of the bathroom, and notice that Joey isn't home. Glancing at the clock on my phone, I nearly jump out of my skin as I realize that I'm running late. Again. This isn't new for me, sadly. Oh, Joey is going to let me have it this time. I run at full speed to the carbon colored dresser we've got sitting by our bed and rush to put on some decent clothes.

Before I know it, my phone is buzzing on my nightstand, and I'm hauling ass to grab my piece of toast and answer the phone at the same time. Breathless as I make my way out the apartment door, I sigh as I put my key in and turn the lock.

"Hello?" I greet whoever is on the phone.

"Missed you in class today." Joey laughs, his charming chuckle ringing in my ear.

It's easy to see why all the girls, and guys, fall for him. He's damn good looking, but he's got some huge brains too since he's always getting straight A's in every class. Dusty, auburn brown hair, chestnut brown eyes locked away behind a pair of square glasses, and a smile so radiant I think it's blinding, he's got everything I want in a man. Not only that, but he's one hell of a shoulder to cry on. Even when it's 4 am and I've just remembered that my favorite T.V character will never get their happy ending.

"Right. Well, I forgot to set my alarm." I groan embarrassedly. Crap. Today was the day of his presentation, and you promised you'd be there. Idiot.

"Babe, that's why I told you I'd set mine!" He lectures me lightly.

"Yeah, and that's why I love you. Always the charmer." I smirk.

I know that since it's too late, I might as well go back into the apartment, so I unlock the door and am greeted by my ever so lovely friend yet again.

"Can you two be quiet? Cause I don't want to hear it! It's gross!" Ben hollers.

I gasp, quickly covering my phone with my hand and scolding him.

"Shut. Up!" I whisper tensely.

"Everything alright?" Joeys voice rings from the other end.

"Yeah! No worries! Everything's fine! Are we still seeing your mom for dinner?" I ask to try and deter the conversation.

It's awkward being a medium and having a massive skeptic as your boyfriend. With every bump in the night, he's got an explanation. 'It's just the wind, Phoebe,' 'Nothings there, it's just your mind seeing something that it wants to.' So forget trying to explain this stuff to him. He'll chalk it up to god knows what and possibly break up with me if I push my luck.

"My mom said 7'o clock. You'll be there, right? I'd like to avoid a repeat of what happened last time." His voice is light, but I know he's dead serious.

Last time. Ah, yes, when Ben and I had been arguing over why I wouldn't tell him where I was going. He hadn't seemed to get that Joey doesn't believe in ghosts, and I knew there was no way his mom could've handled it. Good times.

"I swear. I know I got lost, but not this time." I assure him lovingly.

"Ok." He sounds relieved. "Love you."

"See you later." I let my hand pull the phone away, but I'm immediately reminded of our promise. "Oh, and Joey?"

"Yeah?" He asks.

Never end a call without I love you.

"Love you too." I smile, and in a weird way, my heart does the same.

For the next 3 hours, I'm alone since Joey has classes, and today happens to be the one day of the week that I don't. So, twiddling my thumbs like a moron, I sit on the couch and listen to the almost silent ticking of the clock. Our apartment is usually cold, but it never gets to the point where I'm shivering and putting on a jacket, so I cross my arms and ready myself to lecture Ben.

"Ben? God, really? I told you to stop doing that." I grumble as I slide on the sleeve of my dark wool jacket.

The whispering I suddenly hear isn't new, but it's not normal. I make my way around the apartment, trying to sense for a presence, but I get nothing. The place is empty. Which is more unusual because the AC says it's 71, and I know Joey would kill me for having it that low. Ok. It's set to 76. Don't freak out, it's okay, Phoebe. This is totally how you planned today to go.

I wander around the place some more, glancing at everything and hoping I don't see something. The worst part? I can still hear that whispering. Like a faint scratching sound at the back of my skull. It's there, but I have no idea where it's coming from. It isn't in one particular location, but instead, it's like it's filling the whole apartment.

I hunch downward, clutching my arms to my chest as the cold air chills me, and that's when I hear it. A soft weeping. Gentle and quiet. Not loud enough to startle someone, but enough to get someone's attention. Since it's coming from the bathroom, I make my way over to the doorframe and flip on the light hesitantly. Nothing. The bathroom is empty. But, Bens gone quiet too.

"Ok, Benjamin, very funny," I call out as a frightened frown curves my eyebrows. "This... isn't a joke anymore... you can stop now..."

"Go..." The hoarse whisper, taunting and eerie, sends chills down my spine.

Whatever it is makes it's presence known, showing me a flash of its appearance. Dark, gritted teeth behind a mangled, dirt-covered jaw. Its face is nothing but matted flesh that clings to the bones underneath. And its eyes are long gone. Small strands of stringy hair are tangled and lay parted around its face.

I dart out of the apartment, bolting down the hall to the elevator and repeatedly smashing the button to go down. Come on, come on, come on. Never have I ever felt the need for fight or flight. Not since I was a kid. Not since whatever it was in my old house had tried to kill me in my room.

The numbers go down, slower and slower, with each second passing like a minute until finally, the distinct ding dong alerts me to the doors sliding open and making way for me to bolt inside and repeatedly press my finger on the 1. Since we live on the third floor, it isn't a long ride to get down to the main lobby. But, damn, is it a long ride today.

I hold my hands to my arms, cradling myself like a mother would her child. Rocking back and forth, I focus on the sound of the elevator going down and finally reaching the first floor. Walking out of the elevator calmly, I growl to myself as I notice that I forgot my phone in my hurry to escape. And there's no turning back now. I refuse to be alone in that apartment.

I end up at a nearby coffee shop, convincing the owner to let me make a call using her phone. She doesn't want to at first, but after I promise her it will only be for a minute, she reluctantly allows me to borrow her cellphone and call.

Pick up. Pick up. Come on, I know you have your phone on you, damn it, pick up.

I can hear students talking, and I jump in before he can notice the new number and hang up.

"Don't hang up! It's me!" I hear my voice quiver as I speak.

"Hey!" Joeys soothing voice sends waves of relief to my racing heart.

"Hey... what's up?" I ask as casually as possible.

"Uh... well... nothing. I just finished my first class, so... did you need something?" He asks, sounding worried.

"Oh, no... I just... wanted to hear your voice." I laugh, making note that I sound like a weirdo.

"Ok... Phoebe, is everything ok? You don't sound so good." His voice is laced with concern, which, for some reason, comforts me.

"I'm... fine. You know. Lonely. Bored. I just... wanted to ask what you were doing." I improv.

"What's going on with you? You're never like this." My boyfriend sounds like he's about to start calling for help, so I take a deep breath and try to relax.

"I just miss you, that's all," I assure him. "Listen, hey, did you wanna meet up for some coffee?"

"What?" Joey is never one to sound completely lost, but it's all over his voice with his response. "I mean, yeah, sure, I guess I have a couple of minutes."

"Oh, cool! Just meet me at the coffee shop by the apartment." I instruct him, placing a hand on my heart as I slowly start to relax.

My fight or flight is a little different. See usually, it's the adrenaline that pumps through your veins, sending your body into survival mode and making you brave. For me, it's more of an emotional response triggered by fear that causes me to feel powerless. I start to fear for not only me but my loved ones. And my immediate fight or flight response is to call them. To talk to them. It's the only thing that'll calm me down.

"Alright. I'll see you in like 10." He says, the sound of chatter blaring quietly in the background.

"Thank you. Love you." I smile a little, waiting for him to respond.

"I love you too... Look, just... promise you aren't gonna do anything, ok?" Joeys voice rings with genuine concern, and I feel tears as my throat starts to choke.

"No, I'm fine. I just got scared. It was stupid. I'm not gonna do anything." I rest his worries and look to the small scars on my wrist.

Joey is the only one, besides Ben, who knows what I have been through. The last four years of my life have been great for me, but the past was a dark uphill battle. A demon had latched itself on to me, taking away almost every joy in my life. Hell, I'm afraid to even think about it. But, the cuts. That's when it got dark. When Joey had found out, he'd almost killed me himself. And it was hard to watch him go through that. So I told myself never again.

The blade was like a part of my skin at one point, and I didn't feel anything but pain and sadness until it hit. I remember the night well. Joey had found me on the floor of my parents' house, sobbing and holding the blade. I'd gone a little too deep that time. But the demon had done that on purpose. Just like when I'd tried to drown myself in the pool. It was the reason for our one rule. As I try to cool off, I hand the owner back her phone and find a seat to calm down and wait.

I shake my head, knowing that some places are just too dark to be, and grin as I see Joey walk in. His dark hair shines in the light from the window in the cafe, and his smile lights up when he sees me. As he sits down in front of me, a waitress walks up and asks if she can take our order.

"Yeah, two coffees, and we can split a muffin," I order, watching Joey as he shakes his head and smirks at me.

I know I should tell him the truth. About everything. But what if it is too much for him to bear?