"And the award for Best Actress goes to Rosie Smith!"

The crowd went wild. My heart soared high above me as I stood from my seat and made the victorious trek up on stage to the podium.

"Wow, I don't know what to say," I spoke into the microphone after accepting my trophy. "I want to thank everyone who has helped me get here. Thank you to my co-stars, to my team, and especially to my..." I trailed off.

A young woman stood in the back of the crowd. I could barely see her through the blinding overhead lights shining down on me, but I knew instantly who she was.

Sweat erupted on my forehead. Just ignore her, I told myself, but my mind zeroed in on her face. She was now the only thing in the room.

"Um, thank you." I stepped back from the podium.

I wanted to run off the stage, but I concentrated on keeping my footsteps slow and even.

One, two. One, two. I counted each click of my stilettos on the marble floor, praying my therapist was right and that this exercise would stave off a panic attack.

I passed the aisle my seat was on. A couple people told me congratulations as I went by them, but my mind had blocked out everything except the woman, who had finally noticed me. Her eyes locked on mine, then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room.

I reached the last row of spectators in time to watch her long blonde hair whip around a corner. I broke into a run.

"Emily?" I hissed, finding myself alone in the next room, which was empty except a long bar table.

"Congrats, Rosie."

I spun around.

"Best actress," Emily took a step toward me. "That's no small feat."

"I learned from the best."

Emily smirked at the coldness in my voice.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, glancing around. We were still the only ones there.

My heart pounded. Though I was grateful I could speak freely without looking insane, I wished someone was within screaming distance.

"What do you think I'm doing here? I came to watch." Emily put an arm around my shoulders. I shuttered, feeling like I had just been doused with ice water. "I'm so proud of you."

I pulled away. "Get away from me."

Emily's lips stuck into a pout. "Oh, big, bad Rosie has forgotten where she came from, hasn't she? Where would you be without me?"

"I would be free!" I snapped.

Emily stepped over to the bar and grabbed a nearly empty champagne bottle. She opened it and poured the rest of its contents into a dainty stemmed glass, then took a sip.

"Oh, Rosie, there is no freedom. Isn't that what I tried to tell you?" She put her arms around my neck, swirling the glass in front of my face. I could smell the fermentation of the alcohol under my nose. "You run this rat race, bringing in millions for the Man until the day you are no longer useful." She took another sip. "Then you die, and then you're forgotten."

I pushed her away. "Y-you're not real."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"

"Emily didn't drink."

The woman seemed momentarily caught off guard. Then she smiled.

"Good girl. So you're not just a pretty face."

I shook my head. "Why won't you leave me alone?"

Emily leaned forward and whispered, "Don't you believe in ghosts, Sweetheart?"

"I'm just trying to move on!" I shouted.

"I'm just trying to move on," She mocked. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

My eyes welled with tears. "I didn't mean to."

"Yet somehow it still happened," she mused. "All those people out there, do they know their golden girl is a murderer?"

"Stop!"

Emily grabbed my hands. "You may be able to fool all of them, Rosie, but you can never hide from the person who can make you suffer most: yourself!"

"Just die!" I sobbed.

Emily gasped. I looked over at her, and my eyes widened.

She looked up at me in shock, then down at the red seeping through her pale pink designer dress. We both stared as blood spread across her chest.

"Rosie..."

She fell backwards as if in slow motion. The champagne glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the marble. I ran toward her, feeling like I was wading through gelatin. My hand reached out, my fingers an inch from her tulle skirt.

"Rosie?"

I looked up. A security guard strode toward me.

Oh my gosh, I realized, staring in shock at the place Emily had fallen. How did I not know it wasn't real?

I tried to chuckle, hurriedly wiping the tears from my face. "Sorry, I had to get some air."

I looked down at my hand. Mascara had been smeared across it. I could only imagine how my face looked.

"Are you okay, Miss?" The guard stared warily at me.

"Of course," I smiled as widely as I could, my heart sinking.

Great. Crazy Rosie strikes again. I can see the headlines now.

"Don't tell anyone about this," I whispered.

He nodded, but I didn't believe he would keep his word.

I turned quickly away and power-walked back into the other room, where the ceremony had just ended. Guests milled about.

"Rosie! No one deserves that award more than you!" An elderly man shook my trembling hand.

I had no idea who he was, but he was pretending to know me so I attempted a smile at him and his companion—a woman half his age who leaned on his arm like he and his money was an accessory to her designer gown.

"Thank you."

As they left I heard the woman hiss, "Did you see her? She was pale as a ghost! And her makeup team needs to be fired."

I shook my head.

More people shouted praise as I passed. I nodded politely to each one, my eyes searching the room like a caged animal. I had to get out of here.

Finally, I pushed through the crowd to the front doors. I was immediately blinded by paparazzi.

"Rosie! How does it feel winning Best Actress?"

"Rosie! Who are you wearing?"

I plastered on a smile and waved to the cameras as I tried to pass, but they wouldn't let me through.

"Rosie! Why didn't you bring a plus-one tonight?" One young man shouted.

"Um—"

My breathing quickened as they pressed in on me.

"Rosie! Why are you leaving so soon?"

"I-I don't feel well," I managed, before my legs gave out.

The crowd only watched as I fell to the floor and everything went black.

*****

"Need I remind you, Rosie, that right now you're paying me a lot of money to watch you stare into space?"

My head snapped up. "Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking."

Angie looked up from her clipboard and raised an eyebrow at me. "Well, you are here to tell me your thoughts." She stopped, then pressed, "Why did you faint at the award show?"

I shrugged. "I got rattled."

"By what?"

I looked at Angie. She had been my therapist for over ten years, ever since...

She knew me better than anyone. I would almost consider her a friend, but I knew better than to get close to her.

"I saw her," I sighed.

Angie nodded. "Are you gonna tell me about it?"

I frowned. I did not want to tell her, but I knew better than to keep my emotions bottled in.

"It was the same thing that always happens. She dropped dead."

Angie tapped absently on her clipboard. "Rosie, have you been--"

"Yes!" I shouted. "I've done everything you told me to do. How much longer will Emily haunt me?"

"Time heals all wounds." Angie sighed. "Except grief. You just have to trust the process."

I nodded and flopped back against my chair. "It's been ten years," I whispered.

"You were sixteen when she died, Rosie. Of course you are going to carry wounds. That's why you need to do what it takes to get help."

She then turned the session to another topic, and I answered the remainder of her questions absently. After our allotted hour was up, I rose slowly from my chair.

"Same time next week!" Angie called after me.

I waved halfheartedly in response.

I stepped out into the sun, the Los Angeles summer heat doing nothing to rid me of the chill in my bones.

My chauffeur had parked behind the office building, hiding from paparazzi. One determined young man found me, however, and hounded me as I crossed the parking lot.

"Rosie! Is it true you broke it off with Jake Wheeler?"

The mention of my breakup with my boyfriend of three weeks didn't really faze me, but I ignored him anyhow. Jake hadn't been able to handle the crazy, and I was okay with that.

The man bombarded me with more questions as I reached my car.

"Okay, back up," my chauffeur growled, shielding me from the man as I stepped into the car.

"Rosie, is it true that you're going to be in the new movie about Emily Davis?"

"I said, back up!" The chauffeur held the man back as he shut my door, then climbed into the front seat.

My blood went cold. "What movie?" I rolled down the window.

The man didn't get a chance to answer before we sped away. I stared after him, my heart racing.

Emily.