At first it seemed like just dreams. Ashlyn would "wake up" in some weird phantom world every night at 12:00 exactly and strange phantom beings would try to attack her. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as her head rested heavily on her folded arms, the wooden desk digging into her ribs through her thin green shirt.

Her solution after realizing they could actually hurt her? Hide in the school bus graveyard behind her house in one of the abandoned buses where the phantoms couldn't reach her. The bell's shrill ring cut through the classroom silence but didn't rouse her—she'd become used to much louder, more terrifying sounds in the phantom realm. Her orange ponytail spilled over her shoulder, strands of hair catching on the edge of her desk.

That strategy worked, though it left her absolutely exhausted every day from fighting for her life night after night. The classroom emptied around her, chairs scraping against the linoleum floor and voices echoing in the hallway as students rushed to their next classes. Ashlyn's chest rose and fell with the soft, rhythmic sound of sleep, her breathing occasionally catching as if reacting to dreams— or perhaps memories of the phantom realm she visited nightly.

Even though her grades were suffering badly, the teacher hadn't said anything yet. Not that she really cared as long as she stayed alive. A single ray of afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes that swirled above her sleeping form while the empty classroom slowly darkened around her.