Well...um...hi. Heh. Yes, I know, I have another story to update! I know, I know! I'm just...really bad at this stuff...You'll have to forgive me. Or not. Whatever floats your boat. But anyway, I'm making a new story...which is this...and i'm still working on updating the other one...I suck, I know. Don't remind me.

But before I start, I need to put in a disclaimer. I know, weird huh? Well, anyway, I'd best get this over with. Or I could just leave out the disclaimer. Technically I do own Jamie on Tagged...he'd probably get mad at me though. HI JAMIE! -waves- Okay...anyway. Onto the disclaimer.

I don't own Jamie, whose real name is James. And I don't own Donna. But Morgan is my creation. Mine and mine alone. So HA! I own at least something in this story.

“I had an imaginary friend. And most of us in this room, when we were younger, had one as well.” There were soft murmurs of agreement from the people in the room, but they died almost instantly. “And most imaginary friends are thought up for a few reasons. Maybe it’s to provide comfort to a hurting child, teach the child a life lesson, maybe just to keep the child entertained, or maybe, maybe it just gives the child something to look forward to.” People nodded, murmurs of agreement starting up again. “And most of you, when you had that special imaginary friend, gave it something unique, something cool, like a superpower. Am I right?” More nods, louder murmurs.

“But my imaginary friend was also my best friend. He wasn’t special. He wasn’t like Jimmy’s, the boy who live down the street’s, whose imaginary friend could shoot lasers out of his eyes, and he wasn’t like Molly’s, my next door neighbor’s, whose could fly. He was just...for lack of better words…normal.

“But he was still my best friend. And even though he couldn’t fly or shoot lasers, he was everything I ever needed. He comforted me. He didn’t yell, didn’t chide or scold, didn’t turn away in anger. He didn’t glare, or shoot dirty glances. He didn’t do any of those things.”

I paused, letting my words sink in. The people in the audience stared at each other, then up at the podium where I stood.

“Because I was in control. I made him how I wanted to make him. Imaginary friends are all in your head. If you want them to go away, they go away. If you want them to tell you that you’re pretty, they tell you that you’re pretty. They eat if you want them to. They do everything you want them to.

“Because they’re not real.”

At this moment the bell rang, and class was over. Kids, parents, and teachers, shuffled out the door, all of them eager to get out of the school as fast as they could. It was Friday; why should they wait?

I headed off the stage, grabbing my book bag that was lying on one of the tables. A girl in one of my classes approached me. “I liked your speech. It was very nice.”

I nodded. “Thanks Cassie. I’ll…uh…I’ll remember that. Thanks.” I slung my book bag over my shoulder and walked out the doors of the high school I attended.

Donna was waiting for me by the front gate, her backpack bulging with whatever it was she took home over the weekend. “Hey,” she said, matching my pace. “Any plans over the weekend?”

“Umm…try not to die?” I responded. Donna laughed lightly, almost nervously, then looked away, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s all right.” But the rest of the walk home was silent, and somewhat awkward.

“Well,” I said, walking up to my front door, “here we are. Thanks for walking home with me.” I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, then turned and headed inside. My grandmother stared at me as I passed her in the entryway and headed up the stairs to my room, which happened to be at the end of the upstairs hallway and as far away from my household society as possible.

I opened my door to find Morgan (Author's Note: Yes, I know Morgan is the name of my main character in my other story, but I liked the name, so I'm using it again. And even though they have the same name, this Morgan is way differnt from the other Morgan. For one thing, he's not a vampire, and for another...he's a lot more creepy) sitting on my bed, trying to solve my Rubix cube. “Morgan, what are you doing?”

He looked up at me, his eyes shining. “I’m solving this thing. You’ve had it for ages.” He went back to messing with the cube.

“What have I told you about playing with my stuff?” I gently pried the cube from his cold fingers.

He sighed. “You told me not to. But it’s so boring around here, Jamie!”

“Don’t call me that!” I snapped.

“Sorry,” Morgan mumbled, his eyes going to the floor.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You know I’m just stressed.”

There was a long silence, and it made me rather uncomfortable. I bit my lip, hoping he would say something, anything. “I liked your speech,” he whispered after a while.

I turned to him. He was staring at me, and I suppressed a shiver. His eyes were a piercing grey and they always seemed to look through you and not at you. I turned to my desk and busied myself in trying to find my lighter. I didn’t want to see him staring. It unnerved me.

“You like everything I do,” I finally said, wincing on the inside when I realized how soft my voice came out. “Sad to say, your opinion doesn’t count much.” I opened up a few drawers, sighing when there was nothing in them.

I froze when a sudden chill washed over me. Morgan was standing behind me. I couldn’t see him; I could feel him. He was always so cold…

He held out his hand, and in it was my lighter. I reached up to grab it, but his fingers closed around it. I grunted in displeasure. He opened his hand again, and my lighter was gone.

“Morgan…” I growled warningly. He was testing my patience which was very thin to begin with.

He held out his other hand, which now contained my lighter. He lit it, and the lights in my room flickered and went out, leaving the two of us encased in darkness, save for the small flame in front of my face.

“I don’t like everything you do,” he whispered in my ear. Then the lighter clicked shut, and I was alone in the dark.

(-O.O-)

I stumbled out of my room, cursing when I slammed my hip into the bedpost. The hall light was on, surprisingly, because I never turned it on. “What the hell?” I muttered, making my way to the stairs.

My grandmother was at the bottom of the steps trying to turn on the kitchen light. She was glaring at the switch as she flicked it up and down, but nothing happened. “God dammit,” she hissed, turning around. Her eyes caught mine, and I knew instantly what was coming.

“You did this!” she roared. “What did you do?! Did you call upon your Satan powers and make all the lights go out?! Did you sacrifice a maiden to call forth your evil God?!” Her face was an ugly red color as she yelled, and her eyes bugged out of her head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, my voice rising. Why was I being blamed for this? Why was I asking myself that? I was always blamed for the shit that went on around here.

“All of the fucking power went out! What the hell did you do?!”

“The hall light’s still on!” I yelled back, pointing at it.

“Satanist! Get back to your room!” She pushed me back up the stairs and nearly slammed me into my own door.

I opened my door just as the lights flickered back on. My door slammed shut behind me though, and I jumped around to see Morgan standing there. He was smiling almost wickedly, and there was that glint in his eyes that I didn’t like. Never had, never would.

“Jesus Morgan,” I hissed. “What the hell are you trying to pull?!” I stomped towards him with the intent to strangle him. Never before had he been so…so…I don’t know what I’d call it! So…misbehaved! But he held up three fingers and I stopped. What the hell was this? A new game? Well, I didn’t want to play any fucking games at the moment!

One finger went down. A countdown? A countdown of what?

Three…

Two…

One…

And then…a scream. The sound of someone storming up the stairs made me stare at the door. What was going on? I looked to Morgan for something, anything, and he gave me nothing but a wicked grin. I glared, but he only gave me a two-finger salute and stepped back into the wall and vanished.

“Morgan, you sorry little-”

My door swung open hard, and my grandmother stood in the doorway (Go figure). Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and she looked even more pissed than she was before. “You fucking little-” She screamed in aggravation as she not to be able to find the right words. “Get down those fucking stairs!”

“But you said for me to stay in my room,” I said quite calmly, knowing that it would only piss her off more. And indeed it did.

“Shut up!” she screamed, grabbing my arm and nearly dragging me out of the room. Her nails were digging into my skin, drawing blood, but I didn’t say anything. If I did, I think she’d have hit me. And I didn’t really feel like explaining to Donna how I got a massive bruise on my face. The nail marks were going to be bad enough.

“Look at this!” she roared, nearly slinging me into the kitchen, but her iron grip jerked me back. For a moment I honestly no clue what I was looking at. It didn’t seem to register for quite some time. Maybe when she slung me around I got knocked in the head a bit. That’s got to have been it. I mean, how else could I not have realized that what I was looking at was the body of our next door neighbor’s cat lying in our sink, which was now all full of red liquid that I’m assuming was blood.

…..I just ruined the surprise, didn’t I? Oh well. But yes, our neighbor’s cat, Lulu, I think its name was, was dead…in our now bloody kitchen sink…what a joy.

And, as usual, I was getting blamed for it. Big surprise there… (Can’t you just feel the love?)

My grandmother dragged me over to the sink, where the stench of blood was quite heavy. I couldn’t help but stare at the dead cat and try to figure out how it had died. There were obviously no puncture wounds, and nothing was torn off. All in all, the cat looked just fine. It was just missing a few pints of blood.

“What did you do to it?!” my grandmother hissed in my ear. Her nails dug ever deeper into my skin. I didn’t reply, which only caused her grip to tighten. I bit my bottom lip. How tight could this woman squeeze? “I repeat: what the fuck did you do to it?”

“Why do you think I did it?” I asked. “I wasn’t even in here or outside or anything. I was in my room, just like you wanted me to be! How could I have done this?” ‘Besides,’ I thought, ‘if I were going to have killed it, I would have burned it, at least. But I suppose this method works too.’

The lights flickered again, and went out. A chill went up my spine as a small flame appeared in front of my eyes. ‘Not here!’ I thought. ‘She’ll see! And then she really will think I’m the devil’s child!’

“Don’t worry,” Morgan’s voice cooed in my ear. “She can’t see it. It’s just you and me.” The flame danced in front of my eyes, and through it I could barely see Morgan’s illuminated face. He was still grinning, and there was that glint in his eye. I shuddered.

Morgan placed a finger on my cheek, and brushed it across the bridge of my nose. I wrinkled my nose at the cold contact. “Stop it,” I hissed. “You’re being a freak.”

His grin widened. “Sweetie, I’ve always been a freak.” Then the fire went out, and once again I was in the dark.

Well, that's the end of that chapter. I told you this Morgan was different from my other Morgan. And for those of you that haven't read my other story "In the Shadows Of Your Dreams" you don't have to worry about comparing Morgans.

Okies, now that that's settled, we're moving on. Just to let you know, in case you didn't get it, Morgan is James's imaginary friend...who isn't so imaginary...O.O

Just kidding. But anyway, now that that's covered, onto this! I do have a picture of what Morgan looks like! Although I'm telling you now that I do not know this person, I just like his picture so I'm using it. Not sure if it works, but hey. At least I tried, right? And for those of you that have read "In the Shadows Of Your Dreams" this is not how Morgan looks in that story! This is purely for this story. But...it's in my profile. The picture, I mean. The picture is in my profile. Yeah.

Sad to say I don't have a picture of James, so I can't show you anything, not that he would let me show you, but anyways...

I think I'm done talking. I don't think there's anything left to cover. I suppose I should apologize for any mistakes found throughout the story. So yeah...but now...I'm done.

For good...

Don't know when the next chapter will be up, sad to say...

I'm shutting up...

Now...

No wait...click the review button and submit a review!

Okay, I'm done for real this time.