Ember's Beginning

Note: I really should be working on my requests, but I'm an idiot and decided to start more things instead XD I've always been oddly curious about how the ghosts in Danny Phantom became the way they are. This is my version of what happens to Ember to make her the way she is.
Ember McLain was unnoticable. Simple as that. She had flat red hair that she always put in a high ponytail and brown eyes that resembled nothing. Well, she was unnoticed everywhere except at home where her alcoholic father was always paying attention to her with abuse. Nobody knew the spirit and bitterness of the girl inside. She tried to stand out at school by wearing cut-up and loud clothing, but it didn't help. People never remembered her name, not even her teachers. She despised not being noticed. The only attention she ever got was horrible.
She also had talent that she wished was known. The girl could sing and play guitar very well since they were her only way of expressing her feelings. She played and sang every night after her father had passed out. It also distracted her from other pains. She had many physical ones from her dad beating her but emotional ones besides being invisible. Her mother had died in a car crash when she was young and half-raised by her busy grandmother. A few monthes back her grandmother died of a heart attack from stress. It happened on Ember's 16th birthday.
Not a week later, Ember discovered a fascination that she had but never realized. She was fascinated by fire. She was always very careful, but every night before she went to bed she would light a match and watch it burn. Several times she let it burn far enough down that it scalded her fingertips, but she didn't care. She wished she had something that would burn for longer, but there was barely enough money for food and school since her father didn't work.
One person did notice her two weeks ago but still not the way she wanted. A boy from school. He had used her to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.
Lately, Ember's been actually practicing music for something though. The school was hosting a talent show that she was first on the list for. She would finally be noticed since attendence was mandatory for the student body. Plus there was a prize of a brand new guitar to the winner, randomly donated by a billionaire in Wisconsin. Ember never expected the incident that would occur and keep her from that guitar but get another that she prefered so much more.
***
Ember checks her hair in the mirror inside her locker then shuts it and goes to her last class of the day. She just had to get through English today then two classes tomorrow and she'd be rocking out in the talent show. The class flew by quicker than she had expected, but she spent it thinking about her outfit. It had to be her best except... she didn't really have a best. She was always extremely careful with her clothes since she couldn't get new ones easily, but they all had at least one rip or a seam that was coming undone. They all showed some of her bruises; that couldn't be helped. She hoped that she would be far enough up on the stage that they wouldn't notice them when they finally noticed her. She did have a flare-up of hate for adults towards the end of class when the teacher called on her by "McLame" instead of McLain. Several people chuclked at it, but she didn't care about them. They could laugh all they wanted because tomorrow they would be cheering for her.
She hurried home when the final bell rang and rushed straight up the stairs and locked her door. Her dad was still out drinking she was home so early. She picked up her worn guitar and made sure it was fine. She always worried about it when she left in the mornings. She never knew what her dad would do. She wouldn't have to worry about it tomorrow though. As she began playing and singing the song she wrote, all her worries melted away. So did the time. She practiced it over and over again but never once started causing strain to her voice. She only came out of her little world of music to someone banging on her bedroom door.
"Hey, you little good-for-nothing! Where's my dinner?!" he father slured outside it. She cringed at his slur. He was really drunk this time. She knew that if she opened that door that she would probably be hit so many times that she wouldn't be able to perform tomorrow. Because of that, she backed into the corner of her room and curled up into a ball on the floor with her guitar. Her father pounded away at the door and called her every name he could think of for half an hour before he finally went down the stairs, creaking all the way. Ember hated the house. When she was little, he mother still alive and her father a good man, she loved it because it was so happy. Her mother filled it with life and bright decorations. Since then, Ember's father had thrown far too many drunken rages for a spec of happiness to remain in the house.
Ember stayed in her ball on the floor and listened to her father stumbling through the kitchen below her. She loathed him. She lost herself in daydreams of getting out of this place. She woke up when it was dark but something was off. She registered that she had fallen asleep, but she didn't understand why her father was laughing like an absolute maniac downstairs. She finally understood when her brain noticed the thick smell of smoke and the heat coming from her door across the room. The house was on fire, and her way out was blocked. She jumped up and to her window. He jaw dropped in shock and horror. The lawn in front of her window was ablaze, too; the flames of it so high up the wall that some larger flares reached her window. It was crawling closer up the side, too. Her father had trapped her between flames. She stared at the flames and began to feel freakishly calm as she watched them. She was finally seeing a bigger fire.
"Why ain't you screaming, you-" she heard of her father's yell at her. He wanted her to scream and feel pain. Ember refused to scream and satisfy him. She stayed completely silent. She knew she would probably die soon since the fire truck response was so poor in this town. She went to her bedside table and pulled out a piece of papre and a pen.
"Everyone," she wrote, "I know I'm not going to make it. Not like anybody cares. My father is abusive and needs to be put in jail. Please don't let him get away with hurting me. He also set the fires. Do me a favor and tell everybody at the high school about me. Make them feel guilty about not remembering who I am. I hope I'll be with Mama now. Ember McLain" She picks up the whiskey bottle that she had cleaned out a long time ago. She always put her father's monthly disability check inside it so he couldn't waste it on alcohol. Now, she rolled up the letter and shoved it inside. She hurried to her window and coaxed it open. The heat of the flames hit her hard and the smoke billowed in. She hurled the bottle into the yard then slammed the window shut again, though it didn't help since she was coughing heavily. She knew then that she had to make a choice. If this took much longer, she'd die of smake inhalation.
She went back to her night stand and pulled out her box of matches. She wanted to die of fire. She liked the fire and knew that her father would be blamed for her death. She started in the far corner of her room and made a continuos line of matches up to her door. Her father had only set the stairs on fire so it was just reaching her door. She placed one match halfway under the door then stepped back. She went to the corner they ended in and picked up her guitar. She covered her mouth in hopes that she wouldn't continue to breath in too much smoke. Then the fire started on the first match. It burned it quickly and continued to the next match, setting the floor ablaze slowly, too. Ember watched as it burned the matches all the way up to her. The heat was severe, but she simply focused on some thing else. Singing. A song had come to her mind and she wished she had thought of it before.
"It was, it was September,
Wind blows, the dead leaves fall,
To you I did surrender,
Two weeks you didn't call.
Your life goes on without me.
My life's a losing game.
But you should,
you should not doubt me.
You will remember my name.
Oh Ember,
you will remember.
Ember,
on thing remains.
Oh Ember,
so warm and tender.
You will remember my name.
Your heart,
Your heart had ventured.
Your walls, now perashing.
Like dead trees in cold December,
nothing but ashes remain.
Oh Ember,
you will remember.
Ember,
on thing remains.
Ember,
so warm and tender.
You will remember my name.
Ember,
you will remember.
Ember,
on thing remains.
Ember,
so warm and tender.
You will remember my name.
Yeah, you will remember my name!"
Just as she finished, she caught fire, and her world disolved into burning then into nothing.
***
When she woke up, she thought someone had somehow saved her then she saw where she was. She was laying on ground that was covered in ashes. She sat up and looked at herself. She was wearing black clothes that were cut just right around her and bright blue bangs fell down into her eyes. She also had on grey, steel-toed boots that looked like skulls. What's most is that she loved them. She looked noticable now! She also knew that she was dead. She could feel it, and she was way too pale. She looked around her. This is where her house had been. All that was left was ashes except a guitar right next to her. It was brilliant purple with blue flames that matched the color of her hair. She suddenly recalled the song she had thought of just before she died and smiled. She knew what to do to get noticed now.
She started simply walking down the street then with her new guitar in hand. She caught a glimpse of herself in a puddle of water on the ground leftover from the water used to put out the flames. Her hair was cut off at the base of her ponytail.
"Ember?" a startled voice asked from a little ways away. The effect was shocking, but very interesting. As soon as he said her name, bright blue flames burned from the end of her hair and calmed to form a short ponytail as power coursed through her. Interesting. People saying her name gave her power. She glimpsed at the person who had said her name. It was him. The same boy that had used her. He had flowers in his hand. She looked back at the house and saw that there was no shrine for her. She hadn't expected there to be.
"You look like you've seen a ghost. Well guess what? You have," she tells him. She laughs at his faces as she turns invisible.