What if your life was wrong? What if you weren't who you were meant to be?
Elaine McKinley has dreamed of a life, a terrible life so different from her own she's sure it can only be a fabrication of her mind. When something, or someone, starts following Elaine from the shadows, she discovers a horrifying secret about her birth.
Elaine is being haunted and only one person knows how to save her, the only question is, is it too late?


1. Keenan Ricker

Dear Diary, 

I had that dream again, though that came as no surprise. I was was in the caravan again, it was dank, dark and cold. The walls were bare of even wallpaper, there was nothing warm or inviting about it. The smell of alcohol burned my nose, the sensation was worsened by the bitterness of frosty air. It was depressing, to say the least. The life seemed to have dissipated into thin air, if it had been there at all. At the end of the caravan stood an antique mirror, the kind you see in old, french movies witch intricate floral patterns hand-carved from the wooden frame. I wanted so desperately to get up and go look in it, to see myself but it was like something was holding me down, like someone-

"Elaine, honey, dinner is ready!" My mother called from the kitchen. Sighing, I set my diary down on my bedside table and made my way downstairs. 

My house was simple enough; a two story house, three bedrooms and a fairly large kitchen. Each bedroom had a bathroom attachment. My mother had never been one for decorating so most of the carpets were a dull grey colour, all except my bedroom for which I had requested a baby blue carpet paired with pink wall paper. Each room in the house had a different wallpaper at least, my father couldn't stand the idea of the house looking so... dull.

My mum stood over the stove in the kitchen; grinning over whatever her new breakfast masterpiece may have been; I quickly discovered to be scared over my mother's cooking experiments. Grinning, she turned to me and offered something that looked like burnt oatmeal, delicious. 

"Mom, not to sound ungrateful, but what the heck is that?" I demanded as I eyed the concoction warily. 

"It's oatmeal with a caramel glaze!" She exclaimed, looking so damn proud. I eyed the blackened mess again and put on my most disappointing look.

"It looks great mom, really, but I feel kind of ill so I think I'll just head off to school and take an apple or something." I hated lying to her, really I did but there was no way I could eat that and not throw up. 

A slight frown marred her brow but after a second a smile lit it right back up.

"That's okay, I can make you my famous pepper and lemon chicken tonight." My mum said as she did a little dance over to the bin and dumped the content away. I smiled at her retreating back because my mother's pepper and lemon chicken was one thing that she actually could cook.

A light beep came from outside, I said goodbye to my mom and rushed outside to my best friend Kate's car.

"Hey girl, you ready for another day in hell?" Kate asked as I got into the car. 

"You'd think that after being there for so many years, I'd get used to it, sadly I think I might just burst into tears the second we pull in." I cried dramatically, throwing my arm over my forehead. Kate and I both burst out laughing and she set off down the road to the high school. 

When we arrived at the school almost everyone was there, cars were honking and teenagers were talking to their friends before first bell. Mr Andrews, the principle, was attempting to persuade a group of jocks to stop throwing a pig skin around the parking lot. As usual Kate pulled into our spot outside the maths building and we sat back, listening to music before first bell rang. 

I had psychology first and Kate had English, so we parted ways with the promise to find each other again. For the first part of the lesson I drowned everything out, the other students, the blabbering teacher and the video of Pavlov and his dogs, after all it wasn't like I really needed to pay attention; I was miles ahead of everyone else in the class. 

Around twenty minutes into the lesson the classroom door opened, I didn't take any notice at first but then I heard it, his voice.

"Hello, I'm Keenan Ricker, I'm new here." He announced to the whole class. I didn't know what it was about his voice that made me look up, maybe it was the depth, whatever it was had my instant attention. 

Keenan Ricker stood at 6"2, his bright blue eyes were covered by jet black hair; the contrast stole my breath. He had a nicely defined jaw, he had a light stumble which only made him look more masculine. His biceps peaked out through the slaves of his black V-neck, his jeans were a faded navy blue, they hugged his legs perfectly, giving the illusion of pure, muscular perfection. 

Keenan's eyes scanned the whole room before landing on me and stopping, his mouth opened as if he were surprised to see me. His lips formed a grimace, I quickly looked down to stare at my desk, damn that was awkward. The rest of the class fired questions at him;

How old are you?- Eighteen.

where are you from?- Nebraska.

Are you single?- Yes.

I blushed profusely at the last one, not because I had asked it, simply because the question meant that others thought what I did, that Keenan Ricker was extremely hot. I kept my head down for as long as possible, even with the ache in my neck, but when I felt someone sit down next to me it was impossible not to look. Celestial, blue eyes gazed into mine so deeply, that I suddenly lost my breathe. 

The teacher soon regained the class' attention with mention of an exam and I was thankful for the reprieve. For the rest of psych I only had one goal in mind, do not obsess over Keenan. They way he kept stealing glances told me I was in for a real rough ride. 

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