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“feelings” about people grew stronger. She’d always had these feelings where she just “knew” stuff about people. It wasn’t like she could read minds, more like she just knew things. Tara tried to explain these feelings to Dr. Kuehner. Tara told the doctor that she’d looked things up on the internet and that she’d seen psychics in movies and on TV. Her parents never allowed her to watch scary movies because of her night terrors, but when she spent the night at her friend Debbie’s house they would watch them, and from these movies and TV shows she realized what she was – she was telepathic, or a psychic, or she had second sight; whatever you wanted to call it. Dr. Kuehner tried to explain to Tara that she was just projecting feelings that she had created subconsciously onto her conscious mind about people she knew – or something like that. Tara didn’t understand the scientific lingo, she just knew that her psychic abilities were real, whether anyone wanted to believe her or not.
    Eventually she learned not to tell anyone about it.
    Life went on as normal as it could be for Tara over the next few years. But when she was almost sixteen years old everything changed. She woke up at night, three blocks away from her house in Mr. and Mrs. Taylor’s shrubs beside their garage. She was dressed only in the underwear that she’d worn to bed and she was screaming. It just happened that Suzy, the Taylor’s daughter, was one of the biggest loudmouths in the school and in record time everyone knew about her little “incident”. She could not only hear them snickering and making fun of her behind her back, she could feel them.
    School became unbearable. Rumors began to spread about the scar she had on the side of her neck, rumors that she was crazy and had tried to kill herself. The scar, a thick jagged gash across the left side of her neck about four inches long, was something she’d always been embarrassed about. She tried to hide it with her long hair, but other people invariably saw it and asked about it. Her parents had told her that she’d slipped and fallen when she was a year old and had cut her neck open. They had rushed her to the hospital and had it stitched up, but because she was so young the scar had gotten bigger and jagged over the years as she grew. She never talked about her accident too much with her parents because they always seemed to feel so guilty about it.
    As she walked down the school halls with students laughing behind her back about her latest sleepwalking episode, she felt like she could slink down to the floor and die right there.
    She wished she could get away from this school and these asshole kids. She wished she could move far away.
    And within a few months she got her wish.
    The nightmares got worse and worse. Even while she was awake, she felt the constant dread that the Shadow Man was coming for her, like this killer was homing in on her psychic signal, like he was picking it up right out of the air and following it like a bloodhound trailing a scent. He was getting closer and closer. He was a psychic like she was; she knew that – they were the same in that respect.
    One night she had a night terror and she ran from her house. She didn’t remember it, but she ran and ran. She woke up in a stranger’s yard with a whole family huddling around her. There was a cop there with a flashlight in her face, questioning her. She remembered that she was hysterical, screaming at the cop that the Shadow Man was coming to murder her and that she needed help.
    And then a vision hit her – it almost seemed like it had been forced into her mind purposely. She knew her parents had been murdered. She’d seen flashes of the gruesome scene in her mind even though she didn’t want to. And the worst part was that there was nothing she could do to help them now, she couldn’t tell the cops to hurry because it didn’t matter now – her parents were already gone. She felt a crushing pressure