GS: Amber McLain

You’ve probably assumed I hate ghosts right? That they’re strange and completely not normal? Or maybe that I’m really conservative and don’t even believe they’re real?

Well, you’re wrong.


It’s not so much I hate ghosts; I believe in them and God knows living in Amity Park all my life makes me familiar with them.
I just… I just know that meeting ghosts gives me the possibility of meeting my sister. My twin: Amber. She died when we were 21. And if she comes back, I’m scared it’ll be hell on Earth.



I guess starting from the beginning is necessary. I was born on November 7, 1969 at 9:05 pm. Amber was born on November 7, 1969 at 9:10pm. My little twin sister. We weren’t identical twins, mind you; she had purple eyes and mine are blue. Plus, she was the more outspoken one while I tended to stay on the sidelines. Regardless, growing up was fun for us, and we were totally inseparable. Granted, living in a mansion with two troublesome twins makes for some fun memories. Like the time we slid down the banister and beamed our Mom. Or the time we played hide and seek, and I found Am in the attic. All fun times. And then, of all things, we decided to start a band at 13.  

It seems silly looking back on it, but at the time, Am thought it’d be the best thing ever. I had no choice but to follow suit. Am played guitar, and I played keyboards, and we both did vocals. We actually did really well, getting gigs all over the state and even getting an album out. We called ourselves “the McLains”. Not exactly creative, I know, but it stuck.


Of course, life has a strange way of messing things up. As such was the time we met Jeremy at 18. He was a sweet kind man, even back then. I had a crush on him for the longest time. The only problem was…  so did Amber. It was innocent puppy love at first, going out on dates and dinners with each other. Sometimes it was me, and sometimes it was Am, and even sometimes it was both of us. And then, when it started to get serious, we told Jeremy he had to choose: Pam or Am. He chose Am.

I was heartbroken. I really, really loved Jeremy, and I felt a little betrayed that he choose my sister over me. But, I did my best to hide my feelings, seeing as Am was so happy. But then, after they had been dating for a couple months, Jeremy came to me after he and Am had an argument. I let him stay the night, things got serious and…well, you can imagine. Admittedly, I felt horrible afterwards. I wasn’t married, and yet I still had sex with a man. I commited something out of yetzar ra. But as deeply ashamed as I was, I hadn’t expected what happened afterwards.


I started throwing up in the morning.



As much as I tried to deny it, it soon became clear that I was definitely pregnant. I tried to keep it from my Mom and Amber, but not a whole lot of success came from that. I think that Mom knew, but she kept secret for me. Thankfully, Jeremy was there when I needed him, and he took care of me in secret since he was still “dating” Amber.

Four months later, I couldn’t conceal the fact I was with child. I think it was around that time that Jeremy gave up and broke up with Amber, but I can’t remember. What I do remember is confessing to my family I was pregnant. And Jeremy proposing to me. And Amber running out of the house and slamming our door.
Sure, I did get a lot of questions, not only from family but from friends as well: are you going to keep the child? Who’s the father? When is it due? Is it a boy or girl? Yadayadayada… I could go on. I normally ignored it all. And then, I started to change. I started acting and dressing more womanly: trading my pinstripe shirts for ruffled blouses, perming my short red hair, and giving up the keyboard to play an actual piano. Yes, I gave up being in the band, and “the McLains” suddenly became “Amber McLain”. During the next few months, Amber and I didn’t even speak to each other. Or, rather, Amber avoided me with a vicious passion. I can’t really say I blame her, but I still tried to patch things up. I tried talking to her, but all I ever got was the cold shoulder. Every time that I needed her, she coincidentally had to leave. It was crazy. Then, on July 19th, 1991, the worst happened.



That night, I was seven months pregnant. Also, that particular night, my mother decided that I was going to be given a baby shower/bachelorette party. She invited all our friends, family, and even part of our members from the synagogue. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was glad hearing that this many people supported me. But…


My sister didn’t.


She refused to come to the party. That had been the last straw for me. I went to confront her, only to find her getting ready to leave to go to another gig. Infuriated by what she was planning to do, I started screaming at her. She screamed back. I can remember our “conversation” like it was yesterday…



“Amber!! I’ve TRIED talking to you! Don’t you think this is hard for me too?” “Yeah, sure as hell looks like it.” “Amber, I-” “SAVE IT!! I bet you’re happy this happened, huh? You finally get the center-stage cuz you’re going to have a kid… You probably don’t know how this affects everything.” “NO, I don’t… But I certainly know that, unlike another red-haired brat I know, I’m actually trying to DO something!” “WELL, It TAKES one to KNOW one!” “You want me to say I’m sorry? FINE, I’m sorry I took Jeremy away from you, I’m SORRY that I managed to carry his child, and I’m OH-SO-DAMN SORRY that your life is screwed up!!” “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!!?! AT LEAST I’M ACTUALLY BEING MYSELF!! You’ve changed your whole self just because of this kid!! I don’t even know YOU anymore. THE PAMELA I KNEW ACTUALLY CARED ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AND THE CONSEQUENCES!!!! JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT HITCHED DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN TREAT ME LIKE YOU’RE AN ADULT, CUZ, NEWFLASH!! YOU AREN’T!!!!” “WELL IF ‘BEING YOURSELF’ MEANS ACTING LIKE A SELFISH BRAT, THEN I’M GLAD THIS KID CAME AROUND!!” “SCREW YOU!” “A BIT LATE FOR THAT, ISN’T IT?!” “WELL, SCREW YOU, SCREW THAT LITTLE BASTARD CHILD OF YOURS, AND SCREW THIS WHOLE FREAKING MESS!!!!!!”



After that, Amber walked out, slamming the door once more.

One emotional hour later, I finally calmed down enough to think straight. Then, I
had a feeling… A bad one… Like something happened to me, but not me… Amber…

Running out the door, I took off to where I felt that “bad feeling” took place. It took me down a couple blocks, where I was met with sirens and blaring lights…




Amber was cold, unmoving, and twisted on the asphalt… I still remember everything in slow-motion… Cops trying to push me back, and I shoving them away… Seeing Amber’s hair spread out like an angel’s, red blood darkening her hair even redder and gasoline illuminating it even brighter…Being within  feet of her, reaching out to her… A fireman grabbing hold of me and holding me back… And the car that pinned her down exploding into flames…

I never forgot it. I spent the next few days crying…


The only thing I remembered afterwards was the day I gave birth. A boy. With my father’s square face and Jeremy’s blonde hair. I gave him up for adoption, seeing as he had caused too much pain, and now he was part of the reason Amber died. I did leave him a name though, because he was still my own. I named him Dashiel. After Jeremy’s father.


Two months later, I married Jeremy. Another year later, we had our miracle child, this time a girl. Even though it scared me that she looked more like my late sister then myself, I still loved her. I guess I thought that now I had a second chance. This new little one was my chance to redeem myself for what I did, both to Amber and Dashiel. So, I named her Samantha Amber Chenille Manson. Samantha for meaning “God heard”, and Amber Chenille being my sister’s full name.


I raised Samantha as best as I could, maybe to the point of over-protection, but I don’t care. She was MY baby. But, then, as she got older, I saw more of Amber in her. She walked like her, talked like her, and just overall acted like her. It was then I tried pushing more “girly” things on her. I had never done that before, and, coupled with her strong, stubborn nature, she resisted. So far as to even “go goth”. I know it’s just her way of rebelling and that’s she’s not really “goth,” (I should know, most of my friends were the original  Goths) but it still scares me.

As if that wasn’t scary enough, she started hanging around the Fenton’s boy, Danny. I can’t imagine what would happen now, now that she has access to even MEETING Amber. I was already paranoid enough when that accursed circus came around and tried to influence my daughter, and hearing that a new pop-star named “Ember McLain” terrified me. A name already eerily familiar to Amber’s, I made sure my Sammy stayed away from her. Of course, when does she ever listen to me? There’s already been two incidents where I know Sammy met Amber’s ghost, and trust me, I’m still scared. Even though they haven’t noticed it yet, I know that they will one day.

The way they both look similar, the way the act, their eyes… Oh, no… Their eyes were the same color… Her hit song... Almost playing out our argument and her death...


I don’t care who or what happens. I’m never letting my Sammy become my Am and end up like dead again. I lost my little sister, and I’m certainly not loosing my little girl. Not now, not ever.