You fuck - you ate my cat!

Fucking nightmares.

My heart starts to slow down. Glancing down at the floor, I see Tybalt, who is glaring at me with a puffed-up tail. I wonder if he had been sleeping on my chest and I catapulted him off when I woke up. I don't remember, but I wish that I did, because it would've been hilarious.

We've got our heads pulled low inside of our hooded sweatshirts and our eyes are shifty. We look exactly like you'd expect someone to look if they were minutes away from committing a major crime.

As special as it is to listen to your friends argue over whether or not you have a mental illness,I'm starting to get the urge to go back to class.

Maybe before you die, it's your ghosts you see.

The others can’t see me,” said the little ghost.

“I know,” I said. “My name’s Gwyneth. What’s yours?”

“Dr. White to you,” said Dr. White.

“I’m Robert,” said the ghost.

“That’s a very nice name,” I said.

“Thank you,” said Dr. White. “I’ll return the compliment by saying you have very nice veins.