The Survivors (Ross Lynch Fanfic)

Chapter 1

　

*5:30am*

I woke up screaming, sweat dripping down my face and my hands shivering from the cold. I try to comfort myself before my sister, Malory, comes into my room. She soon clicks my wooden, creaky door open with a cool wet rag. "Another one?" she asks, feeling my forehead. I nod slowly, exhausted. “You’re burning up,” she tells me with a sigh. She pushes her hair back out of her eyes. For the past week or so I have been having these strange dreams. First, I’m in a cave with some boy I don’t even know and then the next minute I’m in a battle scene! There’s guns and fireball and people running out of their homes screaming. This has been happening every night ever since the accident.

*6:00*

I walk onto the train, seeing all the familiar faces I usually do, just like every other week day. I hand the bus driver three tokens and take grab onto a metal pole. This is why I hate the bus. First off, it smells like god knows what, it’s too crowded (and I’m claustrophobic), third of all, there are always no seats left! I almost always have to hold onto one of those dump metal poles, hopping I won’t fall and die, and grabbing onto a rope handle that hangs from the bus ceiling. I am just lucky my stop today is the first one. I hop off the bus into humid, muggy air. “Shit, Josh! Why is It so humid?” I ask as soon as I see him. He has a hose in his hand, spraying down dirt off my small shop. I take hold of my key to the shop, sticking it into the key hole. “It’s from the hose. Warm water, see?” he states, spraying the warm water on me. “Dude! I just got this outfit, thanks for that,” I respond sarcastically as the door clicks open. I flick on the lights which take a few minutes to become fully lit and drop my bag down onto the small red couch that sits in the corner of the room. I wave my hand around, trying to get rid my the stench of nail polish fumes in the air. I suppose that’s what I get for opening up a salon. Oh well, it’s what I love. Josh walks into the store, carelessly drying his hands off on a unused hair towel lying on a chair. “Really?” I gawk, lifting up one of my eyebrows. He shrugs, coming closer to me. “So how are you doing, Ms. Sunshine,” he asks sarcastically. I wipe up the droplets of water on the floor he made, swinging the towel over my shoulder. “Perfect,” I reply mockingly. He lets out a little laugh, grabbing a broom. He starts to sweep up a pile of hair that lies forgotten in the corner of the room. I give a tiny smile. “Thanks,” I say, throwing my dirty paper towel out. “No problem, anything for you, Shal,” he replies.

My name is Shalette, but most people just call me Shal or Shally for short. I have light blonde hair and blue eyes. I am five feet, seven inches. I have known Josh since I was small, so he’s really the only person, besides my sister, that I tell everything to. He is my best friend.