Cooper.

Eleven.

Fire and chunks of burning rubber crash down around me as the center of Kipling High collapses - god only knows how many people were still trapped inside, students and faculty alike, all crushed, burning.

I throw myself to the ground behind the charred remains of a car chassis as a jet of flames from a flamethrower shoots above my head, singeing my hair and missing me by mere inches.

My stomach flips and bile creeps up my throat as I hear a woman scream, the scent of burning flesh and rubber filling my nostrils and poisoning my lungs.

So many. So many of us.

The sirens let out high pitched whines and the crackling sounds of the flamethrowers cease as the suit-clad exterminators literally hold their fire.

A cold female voice announces, "There are still some that remain. They must all be exterminated. They have all fought the cause."

What cause, exactly? The massacre of millions?

The creak of metal scraping against metal tears me from my reverie, and fear freezes me in place as a crane is moving the car chassis high into the air.

The crane releases the chassis-

"LAURA. LAURA."

I'm ripped from my nightmare by my mother violently shaking me awake, a beam of bright light illuminating my room from the open doorway. She clutches me in her embrace as I bolt upward, my entire body trembling.

I wrap her in a tight hug, holding on so tightly that I start to think that I'll never let go. She strokes my hair gently, her long, spindly fingers trailing through my hair, damp with sweat, her wedding catching every so often.

My entire body is covered in a cold sweat, my arms and legs covered in chill bumps.

I loosen my grip on my mother and sheeans backward, her deep blue eyes, like circular abysses set into her pale porcelain skin, searching my face.

"You were screaming." She whispers, her voice soft but alert. "Dad spent the night at Classidy and Adam's." I blink at her, numbly rubbing my arms. "Do you want me to call him?"

I shake my head. "I don't even remember what I was dreaming about."

So maybe this was partially a lie - I don't remember most of it. Just fire. And sirens.

I swear, I can still feel smoke in my lungs. The taste of ashes and burnt rubber coats my tongue as if it served as a physically reminder that whatever the hell my brain was conjuring was horrid enough to follow me into my waking state.

My mother's concerned blue globes have not left my face, her mousy brown hair wild and disheveled, one side sticking out all over the place, the other flattened from where she slept.

A glance around my disaster of a room, through many blinks and a few seconds of intense staring at my alarm clock across the room reveals that it's three in the morning.

Mom gives my hand a quick squeeze. I look at her once more. Herr eyebrows are drawn. "Do you want to stay home today?"

My mouth and throat are so dry, like I've gone without water for a very long time. I can't speak. I just nod.

My mom kisses my forehead and stands up from my bed, her already gangly limbs seeming longer than usual in the strange light cast from the doorway. "Alright. I'll call the school in a little while." She heads towards the door and almost goes to close it, but hesitates. She casts a glance over her shoulder. "Please, sleep well, Laura."

She gently closes the door behind her, leaving it cracked so that only a sliver of light pushes its way through.

As soon as I close my eyes and my head hits the pillow, I smell ashes.