Helpless (Book 1)

Chapter One

I WAKE WITH a strained gasp. My eyes snap open as I shoot upright, my shoulders tensed and up to my ears, my back rigid straight, and my hands clutching onto the bedsheets that are now draped over my lap. My knees are slightly bent as I sit upright, staring wildly at the mirror across the room in front of my bed. My eyes flicker wildly left to right, trying to get a sense of my surroundings as I pant fast, my breaths sharp and ragged as if I had just completed a marathon. I feel beads of sweat trickle down the side of my face, or is that the rain, or tears perhaps? I can't tell at this point, nor do I care.

 Am I back in Nevis? No. No, I'm not. I'm not in Nevis. I'm not in the bed next to my mother as she held me in her arms tightly before she... well, anyways. I'm not back in Nevis, escaping the hurricane with my brother, James, who... No. No, I'm not back there. I'm in my bedroom, by the looks of it, at the Washington's residence. I'm in my rather small bed, my trembling hands clutching at the bedsheets tightly, so tight my knuckles turn white. I'm in my bed, in my bedroom. I'm home. This is my home. Not Nevis. 

 I look to my right. Over there is my wooden desk by my window, my laptop surprisingly still open but the screen is black and loose-leaf papers are scattered over my desk along with random pens. An empty metal tray sits on the edge of my desk with an empty white mug and a plate with crumbs on it. My chair is scooted back slightly away from the desk. My blinds above my desk are closed over the window, so it blocks out the early morning sunrays a little that shines through them. A few feet away from my desk, is my closet where I store all my miscellaneous things and my clothes and shoes and then to the left of that is my vanity where I get myself ready for the day and then right next to that is my dresser where I store my pajamas and stay-at home clothes. My laundry basket sits between the wall and the dresser next to the closed bedroom door. I'm home. There's no flood surrounding me. No dead bodies facing face down in the murky green-blue water. There's no debris from torn houses from the harsh winds of the hurricane. There's no thunder crackling, no lightning flashing. I don't see him. I don't see my older brother, James, who had died while trying to protect me from the raging storm back in Nevis. He shoved me out of the way when we were trying to catch our breath, standing underneath a tree that snapped off its trunk that was rooted to the ground. And what did I do? I just stood there with a stunned and frightened expression on my face as I watched the tree fall, fall, fall. It collapses onto James, the branch hitting his upper back and he topples forward in an instant, landing face down in the water like the other dead bodies. His limbs twisted at an awkward angle. The water turning from a green-blue color to a dark purple and I realize then, that it was blood. His blood. 

 My sharp, ragged panting comes short when I hear the obnoxious beeping coming from the left side of me. I whip my head over my shoulder, eyes widening and face paling. I'm still shaking as I lift my hand up from the bedsheets and slam the alarm off, wincing a bit as my hand makes contact with the buttons on top of it. Now, there's nothing but quiet in my room. It's just me. It's just me on this small bed, in this dark and empty space.

 I feel myself sinking a little into the mountain of pillows surrounding me. I close my eyes gently as I feel the tears start to slip down my freckled cheeks. I draw my legs up to my chest, wrapping my thin arms around them tightly and resting my forehead behind my knees, letting a lock of red-brownish hair fall in front of my knees as the rest of my long, curly, wavy red-brownish hair falls around me. I swallow hard, licking my dry lips and letting out a shaky breath but it only turned out to be a choked sob. I clamp a hand over my mouth to try to stifle the sob but unfortunately that doesn't work. I squeeze my eyes harder as memories of my childhood floods through my brain.