Run, run, run. My arms and legs were pinned down to the concrete by two guys and two blocked the light of the street lamps from reaching my face.
I was hyperventilating and trying to squirm away as the men tried to hold me down. One of them came close to my face and looked at me with his gray eyes. His face started to change, twisting until he turned into Weston, the boy with the curly black hair and sunkissed skin who was my boyfriend. He held a dagger straight to my heart. He lifted it as if he were to impale me and I shrieked.
I opened my eyes to see my bedroom and my mother and father who were rushing in. Even with my blurry vision, I could see the looks of concern on their faces. I reached over to my bedside table where my glasses were sitting, exactly where I left them the night before.
"Honey, are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?" my mother asked. She waited expectantly for an answer.
"Uh, yeah, I think so." I answered. My head started pounding, and I groaned, "Mom? Can you bring me some ibuprofen?"
"Sure, honey. But you have to get up because Brooke called. She's on her way over." she answered.
I nodded and sat up, grabbing my phone. I had texted Brooke last night to come over in the morning, that it was urgent. Now I had four missed calls and five unread texts.
What happened? - Brooke
Are u ok? - Brooke
Answer me!! - Brooke
U better not b dead - Brooke
I'm coming over tmrw - Brooke
I decided not to text her back because she would be coming over anyway. I sighed and heaved myself off of my bed.
Once I stood up I garnered a powerful pang of pain from my headache. This caused my vision to falter for a second.
When I was sure that I wasn't going to pass out, I sauntered to my bathroom. It had pastel pink walls and a mediocre sized shower/bath combo, with decorations of white swans adorning the walls.
I grabbed my contact container and tried to open it. The stupid thing wouldn't budge, and when I did get it open it splashed the liquid all over my pjs.
"God da... rn it." I caught myself. By the time I had found the blue-tinted contact, it was dusty and had a blonde hair clinging to it. I took extra care in cleaning it, and eventually popped it onto my eye. I drew a thin black line out of liquid eyeliner above my lashes, and topped it off with a layer of mascara.
I looked at the girl in the mirror. I had short, straight blonde hair that always lay flat. My eyes are a caramel color, and my skinny yet curvy body, well, that's what the drunks were after last night. If only it were different.
My mom came down the hall with a pill and half a glass of water. I resembled her quite a bit; same lips, same eye color, but we don't know who I got my nose from. It is small and turned up a bit, unlike my father who's nose was round and bulbous.
I took the pill and downed it with some water. I've always had trouble swallowing pills, but just recently I learned to just not think about it.
"Hey, uh, mom?"
She looked apprehensive at my wary tone, "Yes, Char?"
I took a deep breath, "Last night I got attacked while locking up the restaurant. It was a group of drunk men, and-"
"Oh, honey. There are a lot of gangs in this neighborhood. I wouldn't be surprised. But we do need to do something about this, and the first thing is to quit that job of yours." my mother answered.
I looked down, "I was actually thinking about that yesterday. This isn't the first this has happened. Not to me, but to my fellow employees when they have to lock up."
"We need to call the police. Do you remember what they looked like?"
I racked my brain, but I could only remember one of them because he was the one that I fell into. He had stubble, and his hair was dark blonde. I told the story to her, with plenty of details.
"Hello, we need to report an attack on a teenage girl. Yes... You want to talk to her?" my mother handed the phone to me and gave me a look that spoke, "It'll be fine."
"Hello? This is Charlotte Dunham."
"Yes, can you tell us everything that happened last night?"
And so I did. The police asked lots of questions, like what time this occurred, where it happened, and the like. When the phone call ended, the doorbell rang.
I got up and answered it. Standing there was a girl with hair the color of twilight and green eyes that shone almost silver. I recognized her as Brooke Vena.
"Oh my god, what happened? You didn't return my texts or my calls, I thought you were hurt!"
I put my small hands on her shoulders and said, "Calm down. I'm alright, just a little shaken up. Now, here's the story."
