Ok, so this story is something that's really near and dear to my heart. It's really heavily based on personal experience. PTSD is something I'm currently coping with so I'm writing this mostly for myself. It's therapeutic. Even though Danny was the series's main character and protector, I feel like everyone in the town was affected by the constant ghost attacks. I chose to write about Star cause she's not too terribly fleshed out in the series, meaning I have more to work with as far as her personal life goes. That and her situation, as a bystander witnessing the trauma at her school, is closer to what I went through. I'm not so great right now, but I'm hoping that workin on this fic can help me get through some stuff. And I hope I do Star justice. I think it goes without saying, but there's no plans for Danny et al to be in this fic.

It was four in the morning in a small freshman dorm at a small university about 300 miles from Amity Park. Not a sound could be heard in the darkness of room 607 in the residence hall except for the heavy breathing of 18 year old Star Jones. She had woken up from yet another nightmare. She touched a hand to the wall to re-orient herself, the other hand going to her hammering heart to assure her that yes, she was alive, and no, she was not in danger. The school was not falling down around her, and she didn't need to worry about getting struck by a stray ghost ray, or having her body be overshadowed and used as a human meat shield for whatever nefarious entity decided to infest her home town this time.

King University was the farthest school form Amity that she got into, and she was glad to be here. The people in Kingsdale had never even heard of Amity Park and no sane person believed in ghosts. Here, there were no monsters trying to enslave humanity, no villains with a vendetta against a local hero. Every night between four and five in the morning she had to remind herself of this. She was safe here and even if she wasn't she knew how to use the standard-issue Fenton Lipstick-Laser currently tucked in her pocket. Casper High had started issuing them and an ecto-pistol to upperclassman her junior year, and weapons training became a regular part of her high school gym class.

If there was one thing Star hated it was that she knew how to fire an ecto-pistol. She hated that she couldn't even fall asleep without feeling the cool metal of the portable laser in the palm of her hand. She was only 14 when her town got turned into a supernatural war zone. Fourteen. No one deserved to live through what she had. No one deserved to live through what any of them had. Her heart ached for her baby sister, who was starting as a freshman at Casper High this year. Her sister would never know a high school without ghost drills, or a gym class that focused on fitness for the fun of it rather than for survival skills. Sure, Star herself may have finally escaped hell, but her parents couldn't afford to move out of Amity. Her sister had to endure four more years in that spectral cesspool that was Amity Park.

Once she got a handle on her breathing, Star climbed down out of her lofted bed, like she did every night. Her roommate was blissfully unaware of Star's nightly horrors. She was glad for that, though. The last thing she wanted was to burden someone with her problems. She quietly grabbed her keys and slipped on a robe and some ballet flats before sneaking out the dorm room and making her way over to the elevator that would take her to the ground floor. She sniffled and wiped her nose on her fluffy pink sleeve. Star couldn't even remember tonight's dream, but it had left her more shaken up than usual.

Oh how she wished there was someone she could talk to about how horribly traumatic high school had been for her. She didn't dare say the w-word out loud, but she allowed herself the luxury of thinking it in her head. She knew she couldn't tell anyone about her life in Amity. They would immediately think she was crazy. By some miracle, ghosts just weren't that well known outside her home town. Part of her was glad for this- it meant she wouldn't be constantly getting the third degree from her peers once they found out where she was from. Another part of her was angry. How could everyone be so blind to the crisis that was happening in their own country? Mostly, she was just sad. And a little bit dead inside, if she was being honest.

All Star really had to look forward to most nights was her early morning walks. When she reached outside, she pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her robe pocket. She didn't used to smoke, but it was something to help dull the pain in her heart. She hated cigarettes. Hated the smell, hated the burning in her lungs, hated the aching it caused behind her eyes. But it was something to do. It helped her to feel a sense of control over her life. And it wasn't like she was breaking any laws or anything. She was over 18, after all. She lit one up and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke settle into her lungs before she exhaled and started on her nightly walk around campus.

An eerie fog had rolled in over the grassy hills behind her dorm building. It freaked her out a bit, but the area was well lit by street lamps, so she wasn't too worried. At least nothing was green, she told herself. Just in case though, she pulled the Fenton laser out of her sweat pants pocket, where she always stashed it before going to sleep and clutched it in her right hand. Her eyes scanned the field, instinct telling her to be on the lookout for spectral activity. Star continued her walk, and tried not to cry as she took another drag off her cigarette.

She had smoked through two before she made it back to the front steps of her dorm, and stood outside to smoke through three more. Five in one night. It was a new record for the blond. She was just so lonely and upset that she couldn't stand it. She wished Kwan were here. Even though they broke up in 10th grade, he was still her best friend. He would know what she was going through. How many times had she called him crying in the middle of the night after a dream where him or one of their other friends had died at school? She stopped counting after 20.

Fatigue seemed to suddenly catch up with her. Star took that as her cue to head upstairs and back to bed. She had to be at least somewhat functional for her morning English class, after all. Once she was in her room, she went in her closet, and pulled down a plain wooden box from the top shelf. She opened it and pulled out a sleek silver ecto pistol. After making sure the safety was on, she climbed back into her bed and settled down, sliding the gun under her pillow.

She didn't want to unpack it once she got to college. Didn't want to have to explain the odd pistol with the weird F on the side. But she had gotten so used to it hard coolness under her head while she slept that she didn't really feel safe without it anymore. And after tonight's dream, she felt much more at ease with the familiar weapon at easy reach. The Fenton laser was useful, but it didn't pack quite the punch the pistol did. For the first time since coming to college, Star fell back asleep within minutes.