I'm not dead. It didn't get me. I know because I'm staring up into the eyes of my best friend Trish. Her baby blues wide and concerned observe me for a few lingering seconds before she glances to her right.

"She's okay."

Who is she talking to? My lids flutter, as I try and get a grasp on the situation.

"Hey, baby cakes." She grins. "You're lucky Mr. Donovan was there to catch your fall. Have you eaten? Taken your iron? You know what happens when your iron gets low."

She rubs her pointers together. "Tsk, tsk."

I lift my head from the crinkly pillow, it's covered in the paper used at most doctors' offices. The room spins, and my neck goes limp.

"Woah there, baby cakes." His tone is mocking.

Even in my state I find it in me to scowl at the sound of his voice. We only just met, but already I can tell he's going to be a thorn in my backside. While most women would gladly enjoy that thought I'm not most women.

"Only Trish can call me baby cakes."

As my blurry eyes become more focused, I zero in on the clock hanging over the doorway.

"My sixth period class." I start to sit up again, but Trish pushes at my chest with her palm.

"And just where do you think you're about to run off to?"

She pulls the stethoscope from her neck, placing the earpieces in then rests the cold piece against my chest. When she's satisfied with what she hears, she checks my pulse on my wrist. Her head bobs as she counts each beat.

"To teach my juniors."

"Negative, Nore. You, my sweets, are heading home. Everything seems okay, but maybe see Dr. Katz tomorrow?"

I shake my head, sitting up all the way, only to feel the urge to lay back. As my body falls backwards strong arms support my weight. His one hand rests on my left shoulder, while the other is against the small of my back. I glare at the hand on my shoulder. My eyes lock on a silver ring with a familiar looking stone inside.

"Is she always this feisty?" He asks Trish.

For a moment she contemplates, her head moving side to side. "That's my Nore. I'm the sunshine to her grumpiness."

His shoulders loosen as he chuckles. It's like he's starting to feel at ease after the tense walk through the hallway.

"A red spinel," I say, nodding towards the ring.

"That's right," he says, as I lift my chin to meet his eyes.

My attention falls back on the ring. The stone is the same as what my grandmother wears around her neck.

"Ignore her, she's probably still loopy from her low iron."

Crossing my arms, I pout like a child. She grins.

"Well, guess I should call grandma."

I uncross my arms. "I can drive myself."

"No. You passed out. You're lucky I didn't call an ambulance. I'm not losing two staff members today. You will get a ride."

"I can take her home."

Our eyes snap up towards him at the same time. I narrow my gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't have a seventh period class. I'll drop you home and be back in time for eighth."

Trish and I sneak another peek at each other. She's grinning but hiding it well under her professional facade. This is probably frowned upon, but I can tell Trish is already planning her maid of honor speech.

It's not the worst thing I guess, but if I had it my way I'd march right back to class and finish out my day. I don't have a choice, everyone is already on edge about Mr. Garver, so keeping it under wraps and heading home is my best bet.

Mr. Jacobs is easily convinced that I should take the day, in fact he's glad I am. He told me I should stay out tomorrow, but I convinced him that popping some iron and getting much needed rest will fix everything.

Sitting in the gray leather seats of his pacific blue pearl Mercedes was not how I expected to spend the rest of the afternoon. With both hands on the wheel, he drives through town at the hands of my directions. He easily navigates the roads as if he's lived here his whole life. My eyes find it hard to resist his hands. The ring I spotted earlier sits on his right ring finger and sparkles in the sunlight shining through the window.

As we drive down Topaz Road another ambulance sits in front of a small tan sided cape. A yellow stretcher is being brought out by two EMTs. Behind them a woman stands in the doorway as they carefully navigate that stretcher down the steps. Again, the body is covered by the sheet.

Standing beside the woman is a man. He's watching intently as they roll the person down the sidewalk towards the ambulance. When he pivots his eyes land on the woman. Her pale blonde hair blowing in the light fall breeze. I expect her to glance up and look at him, but instead she stands beside him, takes a step inside, and shuts the door. He picks up his head and even through the tinted window I realize it's not a man, it's one of them. His red glowing eyes are watching me.

A strangled gasp leaves my lips and again my veins turn icy. I can feel the chill inside them. Then I swear he leaps forward towards the car. I turn away, squeezing my eyes closed, grabbing the closest thing to me. Jaime's arm.

Warmth crawls up my skin, melting the cold into fire.

"You're not going to pass out on me again, are you?"

I had other options to grab. The door handle or hell - even the holy shit handle would have sufficed, but nope, I grabbed for him instead.

Pulling back, I cradle my hand to my chest. I swear I see him grin but try to ignore it.

"I'm fine. Make a right."

Grandma's house is at the end of the block. It's not in shambles but could use some work. The pale green siding is slowly starting to chip in places, and the garden has been over-run by a few extra weeds, but it's home. I don't have a green thumb, and grandma is getting tired in her old age to get down on her hands and knees and garden.

"This. This is home. Thank you."

He lowers his head so that he can get a better view up and out the window at the house. My gaze falls back on the ring.

"That's a rare stone. The spinel. It's the most desirable because of that. You know that they say that-" I pause, my face heating from the intense narrow eyed look I'm getting. "Never mind. Thanks again."

Without another word I get out and shut the door behind me. Grandma is waiting in the doorway. Her small round face is peeking through the stained glass of the front door. Jaime revs the engine and does a three point turn before zooming off down the street. I release a long breath. A heaviness I didn't realize hung over my chest finally deflates as his car disappears.

Grandma and all nine of our cats greet me at the door. Each of them is named after music artists. There's Elvis the black sleek cat, Frank the tuxedo, Dolly reminds me of one of those orange creamsicle pops, Hank is bald, Roy is gray, Buddy and Holly are tabby cats - but I digress so many cats, so many meows.

"How are you feeling?" Her hand is against my forehead before I even step foot through the door.

"I'm okay, it was a rough day."

Her snow-white hair is pulled into curlers as she shuffles into the hallway towards the kitchen at the end. Slipping off my shoes I take an extra glance over my shoulder outside. My heart high tails into panic mode expecting to see the thing from earlier at my front steps, but there's nothing.

I lock up and make my way to the back of the house where grandma has already started preparing her usual chicken soup, like it's going to cure what's happening to me.

I excuse myself and head upstairs to my room to clean up. It was once an attic but was converted to a bedroom after my folks died. I was seven and they had gone out one night. There's a bridge that goes in and out of town to bigger, more well-known places. Sometimes the area fogs worse than the rest. According to the reports, they got trapped in a dense stream and went right off the bridge. If I'm being open for a moment - I haven't been to the bridge and I haven't left this town since that night.

After I freshen up with a nice long shower, I pile drive into my soft queen-size mattress and collapse. It's literally one of the only things in this room, minus my dresser and closet. There's not much space up here, but it's manageable, I'm a minimalist anyway.

On the one bedside table I pull my laptop to check the news. Already, the Patch news team has gotten wind of Mr. Garver's death. Not only him, but the body from earlier. A man in his mid-forties, Craig Owens. There's no picture, only a short five sentence article and a statement saying that it's being investigated. The woman's face flashes in my head. Her petite frame, black hair, and long-drawn-out face. And then the thing beside her, the one who she didn't seem to see, only I could.

I slam the laptop shut before I can convince myself that I'm crazy. The scent of chicken broth and onions permeate the room. Instead of dwelling I head downstairs to eat, relax, and enjoy my night.

"How are you feeling?" Grandma asks while we are cleaning up the dishes. I'm drying, she's washing.

"I'm fine. I took some iron, and I think I'll pass out early. I've got to find a ride."

"Oh, no need. Some young man dropped off your car while you were in the shower."

I almost drop the old floral dish towel but grip it tight. Throwing it over my shoulder I pad to the front of the house and peek out the door. My heart jumps at the sight of my car and a shadow lingering near it. Cupping my hands over a clear spot of glass on the door, I press my face forward attempting to get a better look. The shadowy figure dressed in all black isn't facing me, but they are staring off at the home across the street.

A siren wails in the distance. I keep my eyes peeled on the stranger. Lights flash. Images of early this morning return. The ambulance for Mr. Garver, the look on poor Mckenna's face. I pull away from the door and hold my head in my hands.

Grandma's soft touch on my shoulder makes me jump.

"What's the matter dear?"

As she asks, the ambulance lights grow closer and before I know it, they are right outside our home. The shadow figure moves through the night, hiding now behind a tree.

"Do you see that?" I ask.

Grandma leans forward looking out the window.

"See what dear?" She backs away, blinking rapidly from the wild lights.

"A man. Is there a man standing near our property?"

She looks again, and when she pulls back, she shakes her head, and rests a cheek against my forehead. We're about the same height, both short, so it's easy for her to do.

"Maybe you should stay home tomorrow too."

"I can't."

"There's no man."

I sigh. I can't be imagining it, there's no way. Looking back across the street our neighbor, an older man in his fifties is speaking with an officer. Even from here it's easy to tell how distraught he is by the sagging of his shoulders. A stretcher goes into the house and moments later, they return with another white blanket tossed over a stretcher. I've never seen three in one day.

A numbing cold, almost icy runs through me as I watch the man frantically explain himself to the officers. Something jumps up at me from the other side of the window. Red gleaming eyes, hidden shadowed face. The cold-blooded scream that rips from my lips is full of sheer terror.

I cup my arms over my head and fall to the ground, holding my head.

"Nore, sweetheart, what is it?"

"Grandma don't -"

I reach up for her, but it's too late she's already gazing outside. An eerie calm presides over her as she stares out the window.

"Oh dear, you don't have to shelter me from a dead body. I'm eighty, I've seen it all."

Slowly, I stand and glance out the window. The thing is gone, all that's left is the EMT's closing the ambulance, and the man on the stoop with his head buried in his hands shaking his head.

"I think I need to get some rest. Is uh- is everything locked?" I question, turning back to face her.

"I think rest will do you good. Goodnight." She leans forward pressing a kiss to my head.

I give one last glance over my shoulder as the ambulance pulls away and the neighbors door shuts. Nothing out of the ordinary. Only a simple fall night with the stench of death hanging in the air.