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    I am asleep. I know that. In fact, it’s one of the few things that I do know. And in knowing that I am asleep, I also know that nothing that seems to be happening right now is actual. This news should be considered good, as what is happening to me is terrifying, a nightmare of my own creation. The odd thing is, I wish that I weren’t dreaming.
    For this to be real, would be exciting to say the least. Something in my life that is out of the ordinary, however awful it may seem. The truth is, I desperately search for trouble. Everywhere I go, I have the drive to create chaos. It’s not my fault really, but apparently, I tend to get bored rather easily. Boredom is the one vice that I intend to lose. If this dream were real, I would never be bored again.
    In my dream I am attempting to sleep. I lay in my bed, and stare at the neon green of my alarm clock. 3:13 it says. I wait, something I hate to do. What seems like decades later, the clock reads 3:14. The longer I wait, the more I anticipate. How many more seconds can I endure? Before I can finish the thought, it is 3:15, and the trouble begins.
    It starts with the tapping on my window. I look. Nothing. The tapping insists, and I get frustrated. Tap after goddamn tap. I try to ignore it I really do, but after a few minutes, I can’t stand it anymore. I peel off the covers and start towards my window. Looking outside I don’t see anything, accept the rustling leaves on a nearby tree branch. My room is hot, so I open the window and feel a chill. Just what I was looking for.
    However, something about the cool just doesn’t feel right, and I begin to shiver. I look at the clock. 3:22. I look out the window once more, and realize that the night is still. No wind. I look at the tree branch, leaves still a rustle.
    I begin to close my window, but then I hear it. The silky smooth voice I spend all day trying to forget. I’m not sure what it is about the voice that frightens me. This time the chills are not from the cold. “Roslyn...” it whispers. My name. I am frozen in time, I cannot move, not a single muscle. “Roslyn...” Finding my body again, I look outside a final time. Not a person in sight. I make my way back to my bed and fall into a deep slumber. Good thing it was just a dream, right? Though I still wish it wasn’t.

    Chapter One
    Alright, I must admit that really, the dream isn’t very exciting or scary, in telling. But to me, it feels so real. I’ve had the same dream for two weeks, each time though, it’s a little different, and each morning I wonder what the hell it was that I ate the night before to make me so freakish. What kind of girl gets so paranoid about a dream? I feel like I’m infected with some kind of madness. Insanity makes sense.
    I’ve never been the type to decipher my dreams or anything either (Was I flying because I failed my history exam, or because at lunch yesterday, I spilt my drink down my shirt?) Honestly, I couldn’t care less. Thankfully though, I have the attention span of a five year old, because I forget about that voice entirely by second period- there must be something about algebra that’s particularly fascinating (ahaha, yeah.)
    Soon the caffeine sinks in, and I forget just how tired I seem (strange, considering all of the sleep I’ve been getting.) I get to my fourth period class, and take a seat next to the smelly kid who picks his nose. I curse the alphabet. The teacher goes on about something incessantly (what subject is this anyway?) and I doodle in my notebook.
    I look up from my chicken-pig (Cool huh?), and into my teachers eyes. Where’d they get this guy anyways? He wears a tie over his t-shirt.
    “Yeah?” I reply. What the hell does he want now? I already told him that I don’t have yesterdays assignment.
    “How does this make you feel?”
    I stifle a laugh and try to look serious.
    “The chicken-pig sir?
    He looks at me, confused and disappointed.
    “The what? No. About June and Carrie.” Everyone in the classroom is looking at me now, like they can’t believe what a dumbass I am.
    “What about June and Carrie? Did they confess their love or something, because if that’s the case, I’m totally cool. Free love and whatnot. You know my cousin~”
    A kid in the back interrupts me. (He’s always high, and never seems to pay attention. We call him Stuff, but never to his face, and I don’t even know why.) He seems really amused.
    “No way man.” Some people shoot him daggers with their eyes, others snigger. Sarah who sits in front of him answers for him.
    “What he means, is that they’re dead.”
    “Totally mutilated. They were coming home from the mall, when~”
    “I can’t believe you don’t know about this, it’s like all over the school.”
    My teacher lifts a finger to his mouth to silence them.
    “Children, that’s enough. We all need time to process the situation and decide how we each feel.”
    Sarah scoffs at this.
    “We can’t just decide how we feel, we feel how we feel, and I think that~”
    “Oh, shut up. The last thing that we need right now is your bitching.”
    “Just because I know how I feel, does not mean that I’m ‘bitching’, it simply means I am expressing myself.”
    “Mr. Gregory, aren’t you going to do something? He’s verbally abashing me...”
    He looks up at them, obviously pleased.
    “No, this is good. Get angry. It’s only natural at a time like this.”

    So, June and Carrie are dead... I don’t exactly know how to react, so I don’t. What do you do? I can’t cry, I didn’t even know them. Honestly, if I did, I probably wouldn’t like them either. They aren’t exactly my type of people, not intense enough.
    I don’t even feel bad for not feeling bad. Should I? I know it sucks, and I wish that they were still alive, but... I don’t know, I guess it isn’t really effecting me. People die, that’s just what they do. And, you can’t change fate either, they died exactly that way they were always going to.
    Okay, never mind, that is a bummer. Well maybe not... maybe I can do whatever I want, since it’s going to happen anyway. I suppose, that is a kind of freedom, not a prison. I need never worry again, things will happen, and I can’t change it. No need to give a s**t.
    Carrie and June may be dead, but I feel liberated. What can I say, I’m selfish. I don’t think that I really can feel bad, I’m too busy thinking about myself. What a b***h I am. At least I know that I’m a b***h though.
    I hate when people don’t know that they’re a b***h. It’s like, what the hell are you thinking? Do you not know you’re offensive? I know that being a b***h isn’t a bad thing, it’s a good thing. If you spend too much time on not being a b***h, you become a liar. Liars suck. Agreed?
    I try my hardest to be real. Yeah, I’m a real b***h. Whatever, I say. When you’re a b***h, you at least know who your real friends are. And on that note, here comes my friend, Susan Ellerby. Suze is pretty cool, if not a little weird. Actually, she is very weird, strange is her forte. She thinks that she is cybergoth, but she doesn’t even realize, that she is the last of her kind. Right? I always say....
    “Hey look, you just never see them walking around, do you? I haven’t seen a single one of you guys, aside from yourself, for years.”
    She’d just give me one of her little devilish grins, and sneers.
    “Oh, we’re around.” She usually laughs a bit around this time, and I feel as if she knows something that I don’t.
    “Oh yeah?” I ask, by this point, it’s kind of like a little joke, “Where?”
    “Oh, come on Roslyn, I’ve already told you, it’s an underground scene. If you don’t conform to the ways, I can’t take you with me.”
    “I thought that you were supposed to non-conformist?”
    She laughs at this, and the charcoal that lines her lips stretches into a wide rubbery grin. “I know, ironic, huh?”
    This is when I get irritated... those parties sound like fun... what she tells of them, at least.
    “Who says I wanna go anyway? You know, I like to stay at home. It’s loads of fun, and I get to catch up on my homework...”
    She grabs my hand, and looks me straight in the eyes. “Ross, if you want, you can go. I’d like to have you there. We could have fun.”
    “No thanks, I’m sort of busy most nights.”
    She giggles, a foreign and bizarre sound coming from her.
    She’s right though, the parties kind of scare me. Who on earth knows what kind of freaks that they might draw from the woodworks...


    Later, at Suzes.....
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