Chapter 1

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        Footprints say so much about a person, but when I look at the ground I just walked on, I see nothing. Just snow, going on forever in all directions. Why don't my shoes leave any prints? I mentally ask myself.

        Because you live life so carefully, taking no risks, so that you aren't noticed. My mind replies. A girl about my age, seventeen to be exact, fades into the space behind me, I don't notice her. "All you ever do id blend into the background," the girl adds

        Snapping around, I stare at the girl, "how did you get here?!" I nearly yell. She looks very similar to me the same features, hair; brown, shoulder length. Eyes; also brown. Its something about the eyes though, they're off somehow.

        Shaking her head, "tsk tsk. That's the wrong question. You mean who am I."

        "I know what I meant," I hiss at her.

        She ignores my comment, "I am you, well not you but your soul."

        "My soul," I snort "I don't have one," I reply sarcastically.

        She smirks, "You might wish you don't have one, after you meet me."

        Confused, "What do you-" I'm cut off. The ground starts shaking, it is what I imagine an earthquake is like. The snow melts in an instant, leaving a lake of water. Suddenly my feet feel as if they are on fire; the water was boiling.

        The girl's skin is splitting open, and starting to peel off, "you will never be noticed." A demon stands before me; glowing yellow eyes, "you are alone," teeth like daggers, "no one loves you," its skin as black as night.

        "No! You're wrong!" I scream at it.

        "I'm wrong about what?" My English teacher questions.

        I'm back in English class, it was all a daydream. And I just yelled at my English teacher. Oh no! I panic, I can feel myself blushing, I look around for help.

         "I believe she means that, you are wrong in saying that Romeo and Juliet, is a tragic romance, because in reality it is actually a story about teenagers, who think they're in love, but aren't, its just there hormones telling them that." a boy from the back of the room jumps in and saves me from further embarrassment.

        My English teacher looks back at him "Thank you, Caspian, for that unique insight on this great work of Shakespeare."

        The rest of the class passes without anymore incidents. When the bell rings, I gather my stuff, and stay behind, to talk to Caspian. I walk up to him, "thank you," I mumble.

        "Oh," he looks up form his bag. "Yeah, no problem," he finishes packing up his bag, "excuse me."

        "What?" I ask, then realizing I'm in his way. "Oh, sorry," I step aside. He walks out of the classroom leaving me standing there, wondering why he would do that.

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