Borrowed Time

Chapter One

She was falling. There was nothing above, but there was water below. The wind blew her short hair away from her face as the air became more and more humid. 

She couldn't move, she couldn't do anything that would keep her alive. She closed her eyes, braced for impact... 

But it never came. 

She was sitting down on something that felt suspiciously like... leather. She opened her eyes and looked around. 

She was inside a room, with all of its walls a pure and clear glass... except for the one with an intricately carved wooden door interrupting the strangely smooth stone. 

There were papers scattered across the glass walkway below her, each with lines upon lines of scribbled entries. She stood shakily and walked towards the glass that shielded her from the universe. There was a shimmering line that shone near the middle of the window, and it was closer than the other...

She narrowed her eyes and counted them. There were fourteen other shimmering rings. 

There was a large glowing ball nearing the final golden ring, and the girl watched it creep across the fifteenth ring... but nothing happened. It didn't shatter as the others had when they had attempted to cross even the third ring. 

The girl didn't understand the panic that rose through her, the kind of panic that made one want to run away and never return. 

She stumbled backward as the glowing ball drew closer and closer to where she stood. She continued walking backward, away from the scene before her...

And suddenly she was falling again, but this time from the glass walkway that she had stepped from without notice. 

As the walkway faded, the water below appeared once more. The girl closed her eyes, wishing for some mysterious force to get her out of this vicious loop. 

The dream obeyed, and the girl was cast from her turbulent sleep.

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My eyes flutter open and I can barely see. My hand is limply clutching one of my many pillows. Without moving, I look at the clock on my side table and read the time illustrated in a blinding red. 

3:37 AM

I close her eyes again, willing myself just to go back to sleep. As I lay, I remember my dreams as if I had lived through them myself. 

The last week has been... strange. I never remember my dreams, but this one, the one that's been plaguing my nights for the last week, I remember every second of it.  

I push myself up, ignoring the wave of exhaustion that washes over me. I reach sloppily for a mug of water sitting beside my clock, but as soon as I grab the handle, it slips from my hands and crashes to the floor. 

Grumbling, I drag myself from my warm and carefully formulated cocoon of blankets and pillows.  I stumble across my cold wood floor to the corner where I'd thrown a wet towel the previous night, not bothering to put it away. Now, I'm grateful for that laziness, as I often am.

I don't bother trying to wipe up the water, I just toss the damp towel onto the large puddle. It'll dry eventually. 

I fall back onto my bed, carefully re-wrapping myself into my precious cocoon, leaving myself just enough maneuverability to take a second item, my phone, from the side table. 

I root around on Netflix, for a while, not feeling mentally competent enough to watch my usual show, so I tap on a random kid's show that looks interesting enough for my pathetic 3 am brain. When I fail completely to grasp the show's incredibly simple plot, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling numbly.