I arrive at the book signing a while later, blocking the vision from my mind. I should take my mom's advice and go to therapy. This is really getting out of hand...

The book store is surprisingly crowded. You'd think Stephen King is signing books. Oh, look, there he is. The line in front of the table is massive. The first person who's book I sign tells me that I inspired her to leave her abusive home and turn in her drug dealing parents. The second tells me about how he too was emotionally abused, but my books raising awareness created an opportunity to move in with his best friend's parents like me.

So on and so fourth is this blissful experience. Knowing my story helps people, that I'm making a difference and protecting others from child abuse, it's really the only thing that gives my life value. If I couldn't, then I'd just be worthless, but I have value, and this is proof.

As I continue signing books and hearing more stories about how my book has helped others, I can almost ignore the shadowy figure in the corner of the store, staring at me with an eerie grin. As if taunting me that child abuse is only down to 20%. Sure I did kinda start a movement that crushed the nuts of almost every abusive parent in the country into oblivion, but there's still work to be done. I don't stop until it's down to 10%, at most...

I continue to sign books, planning out my own works, what I'll publish next, until the shadowy figure begins to walk through the crowd. I can feel a warmth from this figure as they appear to take shape before my very eyes, eventually shoving their way in a forceful but calm fashion to the front of the line, hiding most of her appearance under her cloak, I can make out only that she has blonde hair and a kind look in her eyes. It feels... familiar. It's warm, welcoming, loving. Not like what one would feel from a romantic partner, but more what one feels from family. Like Morgan and Whitney and such.

"Leo," she greets, "so we finally meet again."

"I'm sorry," I apologise, "I don't remember you. What's your name?"

The woman chuckles, as if laughing off my question and asks, "you been having nightmares?"

"How would you know about that?" I inquire.

"Next time you sleep," the odd figure proceeds without answering, "when you see me, follow my lead."

With that, the blonde girl leaves. I have several questions. First of all: What? Followed by: What the fuck!?! How did she know about my nightmares? What does she mean follow her lead? What the fuck is going on?

Oh she left her book here. I should at least return it-

"You should leave," is written inside, "I mean, the signings should have just ended, right?"

I look at my phone. Dammit she's right. How does she know all this shit? This is creepy, but I guess I should follow it. I don't like the sound of this. Staying would not be good for me.

Despite the pleads of my fans to stay a bit longer, I manage to get out the door and in my car, driving home as quick as I can as aniexty wells up within me.

As I enter the house, a two floor white house in the suburbs with a small, well-kept lawn and a garden of sunflowers on each side of the door, I head inside. I'm honestly shocked the sunflowers haven't frozen over yet. We should dig them up and bring them inside.

"Hey Leo," Morgan greets me with a high five as I enter the house, "how was the book signing?"

"It was fun," I reply, "how was your day?"

"It was good," Morgan replies, "thanks for asking. You ready for dinner? Mom made chicken."

"Sounds good," I reply, "let's eat."

We walk from the living room, with a TV and a brown couch next to a recliner along with a mahogany table and soft white carpeting, to the dining room, with similar carpets, a window with beautiful violet curtains, and a hand made oak table. Most of the fancy stuff was bought by me to pay Morgan's parents back for taking me in. I mean, I can't just be a bum and I can't legally move out until my 18th birthday, but I'm not complaining.

Dinner is mostly quiet, if only due to the fact we all have to keep an eye on Morgan's dog, a small Boston Terrier named Lucy, white in color, in order to teach her not to beg. As cute as that little fuzzball is, she's swipe your food if you're not looking, and she really loves chicken you see.

After dinner, I decide to sit on the roof and give my agent a call about the movie.

"What did I miss?" I inquire.

"Oh man," the agent, Mr. Meyers as he likes to be called, replies, "we've got a ton of famous actors offering to play Morgan. You're sure you want her to play herself?"

"Absolutely," I reply.

"Kid I advise you to-" he gets cut off.

I get angry and growl, "keep your mouth shut if you wanna keep your job. Morgan is my sister, and if I'm going up, I'm not leaving the ones I love behind! Call back when the studio is on board. If it's not done by the end of the week, you're fired!"

I hang up.

"Hey dude what's with all the ruckus?" Morgan asks joining me on the roof.

"Just some trouble with my agent," I reply.

"It happens," Morgan shrugs, "don't worry dude."

"I got it," I smile, stretching out on my back, looking at the stars, "beautiful, isn't it?"

"Sure is," Morgan joins me, and after a moment explains, "hey, there's something I need to ask you."

"Of course," I reply.

"Can you call me they?" Morgan asks.

"Done and done," I reply.

"Wait that's all it took?" Morgan asks.

"Why would it take more?" I inquire.

"Judgemental people," Morgan shrugs.

"All in due time," I reassure them, "things are looking up Morgan. It's all uphill from here."

We smile at each other and admire the stars. My dear sis- sibling, (sorry) and I. After a while, I get cold and ask, "wanna go play video games until our eyes bleed?"

"Why not?" Morgan chuckles, sliding with me down the side of the roof and onto a balcony bellow us, connected to my room.

We play video games until three in the morning. At that point, Morgan decides to go to sleep and heads to her room. Realising the hour, I do the same. I fall asleep quickly, and I drift into my redundant nightmare...