The Ghost Files

Ghost Files Bonus Chapter for PANIC!!

Author's Note

In celebration of Amazon Prime Video's newest series Panic, I am thrilled to be teaming up with Amazon Prime Video and Wattpad to write this exclusive chapter that puts my characters from this story into the world of Panic!

I hope this chapter intrigues and inspires you to learn more about Panic. Visit the #PanicWritingContest on Wattpad for the chance to put your creative writing chops to the test and learn more about the show!

To find out more about the contest, prizes, and how to enter, check out the #PanicWritingContest here: wattpad.com/AmazonPrimeVideo

Don't forget to watch the series premiere on May 28th, only on Amazon Prime Video, here: http://primevideo.com/

--

"We're here!" my new foster mother announces cheerfully. Candace "Candy" Carlton is way too cheerful. She's like the cute cuddly puppy that always wants attention and you feel like you have to be nice to them because it's a cute cuddly puppy. Same thing here.

This evening she's wearing shorts that are perhaps a little too young for her. I mean she's in her forties and she's wearing shorts that I wouldn't even wear. You can practically see her um...bum I think the UK people call it. Her strawberry blonde hair is up in a high ponytail and she's makeup free. She does have kind eyes, though. Which is why I'm extra snarky to her on most days. I hate the look of pity that she's always wearing when she sees me.

I get it. I mean, I am a victim of a psychotic serial killer that was my last foster mom. Mrs. Olsen is the reason I've had several surgeries to try to repair my hands. She smashed them both with a sledgehammer, taking away the one thing I could do—draw. And that's why I'm so angry. The one thing I was good at, the one thing I thought could get me into college on a full scholarship is gone now. The doctors don't think I'll ever be able to draw again.

My sketchbooks and pencils are still stuffed away in my bag. I haven't been able to bring myself to look at them. Not that I'd be able to even pick them up anyway. I can barely feed myself as it is. Just holding silverware hurts to the point I want to cry, but I force myself to do it, to work through the pain. That old saying what doesn't kill you makes you stronger is an apt analogy for me. I've survived a lot in my sixteen years and I've come out stronger for it.

I'll survive this too.

But I can be as snarky and angry as I want in the meantime.

Which is why we ended up on a road trip to some unknown little town called Carp. Candy decided a change of scenery would do us both good. Her sister lives here and offered to let us stay with her for the weekend.

It's just a weekend. I can deal. Plus, its warm. Most people would say it's hot, but since I see ghosts as a living reaper, my body temp always runs cold and a hundred degrees to me feels like its barely forty. I'll take all the heat I can get. This is why I plan on applying to schools where its always warm. I like North Carolina, don't get me wrong, but I want warmth all year round, not just in the summers.

The little diner we stop at is quaint. That's actually being kind. There's more room at the counter than there are tables. At least it looks clean. The boy behind the counter is cute, if a little scrawny looking. Looks can be deceiving, though. I know for a fact the scrawny ones are who you watch out for. They're scrappy and usually the best fighters. His brown eyes remind me of Officer Dan, the police officer who helped me. I wouldn't be alive if not for him. I owe him my life.

Shaking my head, I sit down at the table and awkwardly attempt to pull the menu from between the napkin dispenser and the salt shaker. It's no use. I just can't grip it.