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That night, Katherine Wells died on the field

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That night, Katherine Wells died on the field.

But then she woke up feeling much lighter than before and confused.

The cheering sounds had been replaced by screams and cries, and she turned around, trying to find the cause of all the agitation. She got up on her feet, and her foot hit something harsh. It was only when her eyes caught a glimpse of her body lying on the ground that she knew. Her neck was in a weird angle, and blood was coming out of her nose.

But she was okay, or so she tried to tell everyone around her.

Her mother was trying to hold her, and the paramedics were there too, but no one would listen to her. How could they? She was no longer part of their world.

You see, Katherine Wells, or Kat, was a ghost.

At this realization, she felt a sense of unease wash over her. This couldn't be happening; it wasn't true. "It's a dream! I'm dreaming!" Kat repeated to herself. She took a deep breath, trying to control herself.

She had to come back to her senses and wake up, but she felt awake, she felt alive still. She pinched herself once, twice, and a third time before dropping to her knees next to her body, trying to shake it, but it was meaningless. She looked up to the crowd around her, screaming for help, begging for them to see her, to really look at her. But she was invisible, intangible, and all alone.

Her body was quickly removed, but she stayed there, on the grass. She felt hot tears burning her eyelids, and the cold was stabbing her like a knife. She was alone, and no one would help her anymore. And she was still very tired. She wanted to sleep about something else and escape this nightmare.

For what seemed like an eternity, she looked up and saw him. A tall figure was approaching her, and his face looked familiar; she was sure she had already seen it once but couldn't place it. His eyes were as brown as his hair, and he was wearing a jock jacket from another decade, and the golden chain around his neck made Kat's heart race a little faster.

But, most importantly, he could see her.

"Hi," she managed to say between her cries, her voice breaking. He stepped closer, and she gathered her last strength to stand up before him. For a moment, he was completely silent. The lights had been turned off, and his face was only visible through the moonlight. He looked sad, heartbroken even, and she wanted to ask why, but before she could, he began to speak.

"You can see me," he whispered, not happy about it. "You're not supposed to be able to see me, Kat."

"How do you know my name?" she stepped closer, shivering. "It's a dream, right? How do I wake up?"

"I'm so sorry," was his only response before he took her hand to lead her back inside the school. She couldn't help but notice the warmth and buzzing feeling coursing through her system when their hand touched, just like on the roof. But she was too tired and confused to fight or ask questions, so she just went along.

He led her to a part of the school she had never been to, a classroom that had been unoccupied for years. He pushed the door to the last one on the left, on the fifth floor of the building, and she entered what seemed to be a boy's bedroom.

"What is this place?" she uttered. She settled on a couch that was made to look like a bed, and the mysterious boy sat down next to her. Her body was aching for her to lie down and sleep, but before she closed her eyes she asked, "Who are you?"

"Wally," was the last thing she heard before she finally fell asleep.

That night, Kat dreamt about Wally Clark.

She already knew his story from history class, which was why his face was so familiar. Last year, she had to do an assignment on the history of the school and had chosen Wally's story. He reminded her so much of herself, how could she not? She could never have imagined that she would go through the same fate as him.

In her dream, she saw him running in a field with a big smile on his face and red cheeks dripping with sweat. She admired him from the bench, looking at his wet hair and golden chain. She had no worries in the world, just watching this handsome man running before her.

It was the best night of sleep she had had in weeks.

Little did she know, but Wally Clark was watching her sleep while she dreamt of him. He had settled her on the couch and put some blankets on her to keep her warm. He couldn't dare to touch her hair, not wanting to wake her up, knowing that she would be in pain once she did. They would have to explain that she had died. She would never get to see New York, or Paris and become a writer. And he was furious about it.

How could they not have caught her on the field? How dare they not save her? He was furious. But he knew she would need someone calm when she woke up. Charly had been assigned to be her personal guide and Rhonda would make sure to help in her own way.

One thing was for sure, tomorrow everything would be different.

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Here goes nothing ! Hope you like it ;) can't wait to write the rest
Have a good dayyy bye-bye 🐝

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