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My story starts out rather normally. I guess it's because I grew up normally at first. I guess some would call me sheltered in my earlier years, but that's no crime. I had my friends, I went to a somewhat small school in a predominantly rich white neighborhood. We weren't snooty or anything, but just... sheltered. I didn't care. I came home one day to see my mother in tears. I instantly thought the worst, but I was wrong. I guess I got that from her, always thinking the worst had happened. It didn't seem so bad. We were moving, I was told. I didn't know anything about "good" or "bad" areas. Like I said, I was sheltered. Apparently, there were things they were not telling me, though. In a week, I went from my cozy, friendly upscale neighborhood with the small school where everybody knows each other... to a number school that had bars on the windows and guards at the doors.

To this day, I think the other kids could smell the fear on me. My first week found me getting mugged and bullied about six times. It's been a while, I don't remember exactly. Whatever the number, it was a bit traumatizing for someone like me as a kid. I withdrew harshly. I didn't seek out human interaction, didn't want anything to do with others. As far as I knew, life was over. I wanted to go home. Ten months of no interaction would make people go crazy, I guess. I assure you that was not the case.

They say children are more susceptible to spirits and ghosts and the like. There's no real proof of that, but all I knew was that I needed someone. I was too far from home, and lonely. I remember nights alone in my room wishing for someone, anyone to talk to. Perhaps that was what drew her to me... or should I say what drew us together. No normal person would welcome the interaction of something as scary as a ghost, especially at my age, right?

It was faint at first. I called for someone, and felt a coldness on my shoulder. I'd place my hand on it and feel someone with me. It got stronger the more I tried to interact. Maybe my desperation made me more open to that sort of thing. I called more and more, excited that someone was able to listen to me. I heard it. Barely. A girl's voice. "I'm here with you." It was an eerie whisper, an airy voice, but it was the most comforting thing I've ever heard as someone in that position. There was something about her voice that reminded me of everything I'd missed from my real home. After days, her voice became clearer. I spoke with her as I would speak with someone I've known for years. I told her my problems, my pathetic childish woes. I guess as petty as they were, it created that despair inside of me that she wished to alleviate.

We finally moved back near my original home. My parents were worried about me and somehow got us back to where we lived, back with my old friends and the like. Have you ever been so immersed in something new that you almost become obsessed with it and ignore the rest of your life until you figure it out? Well, that's the only way to explain it. She came with me and I didn't need anyone else. I was determined to grow closer with her. I'd shut off all of the lights, sit alone in the dark as I tried any way I could to see her. The faint glow of a poorly sealed door leaked through. Eventually, I saw it. It was like smoke, but it seemed to be attached to me. I saw her. I felt like she was an angel. The adoring companion that got me through such a hard time was beautiful. I felt blessed.

I'm sure you're expecting her to be some sort of demon, but that's just not the case. I know her as well as I know myself. Skeptics be damned. I've seen something worth fearing, though. It's the reason I'm here today telling you my story. Something I've learned in my discussions with her is that possessions are real, but not exactly in the way movies depict them. You'd never know someone was possessed. Perhaps someone close to them would sense something was off, or sense a change in personality, but possessions are really quite silent. They happen when a "ghost" if you will, becomes so upset, so unaccepting of their own death that they'd kill to have even a taste of life back. One must be so hateful, so envious that their very eyes are said to turn a sickly green. I've seen it. I refuse to believe that my connection with her attracted the very ghost that desired my flesh, but I wouldn't care if it were true. It happened though. Another ghost.

I didn't feel the sense of astonishment I felt with "my" ghost. It was fear. Of course, I wasn't familiar with the true details of possession but when you see a ghost with piercing disgusting green eyes, you don't care to find out what it wants. I don't remember much else about what it looked like aside from that main detail. It was large, both in height and width, but shapeless. There was no human figure to it, nothing even resembling anything I've seen before. It was amorphous, but constantly changing itself aside from the eyes. To call them paralyzing would be an understatement. I didn't feel myself getting sleepy. I felt myself dying. My every sense, every emotion, every thought was being dulled. It was as if everything about me was drowning in a black lake. Like a car failing to start, I felt my life begin to flash before my blackening eyes, before the visions decayed into nothingness. As my vision dimmed to the point where nothing was visible, the last thing I was somehow able to remember was her.

Light was the next thing I saw. It was through my closed eyelids, but I could feel again. Like taking a deep breath after being underwater for so long, everything felt vivid. I felt my own hands, my face, and looked around. The evil spirit was nowhere to be found. I only saw her. My own guardian angel. I had never been so happy, so full of life just seeing her there and knowing somehow that she had saved me. I asked what happened and she educated me about possessions. The bond between us kept anything from claiming me. At least that was basically how she explained it. All I know is that I'm safe, and feeling more alive than ever, and it's all because of her. I may never be fully able to lose the fear that tainted me that night, but it also allowed me to experience things in ways I've never felt them before. It simply feels good to be alive.

As I sit here telling you this tale, trembling at certain haunting parts, she stands behind me. Her hand on my shoulder steadies me through the chilling memories. As the words appear on my glossy screen before me, I can see her reading the story as I share it with you in my own words. The reflection allows me to look up occasionally and see my angel chasing the freshly appearing words with her eyes. Her sickly green eyes.