Fallen

Chapter Eight: "If It Kills Me"

"How long can I go on like this
Wishing to kiss you
Till I rightly explode?

-If It Kills Me, Jason Mraz

My long white dress billowed in the fierce wind. My hair tossed in the wind like a romantic cloud of mahogany.

He stepped from the trees. Like the last time, his face was concealed, but I could see the cruel, malicious lift of his lips.

"Do you know all you should know about your precious Riven?" he asked in a voice that sounded like their were thousands of him speaking at the same time.

The hairs on my arms rose as I recognized the words from my recent note.

"Who are you?" I choked out.

He stepped closer and said, "You ask all the wrong questions, Siberia."

I then smelled something burning. I looked up and realized the trees were on fire. The forest was steadily burning.

I looked back at him and realized I could now see his eyes. They were a pale, cool gray.

"You're different than the others," he said as the flames flared up around us. "They were nothing. Meaningless. But you...you're special."

He grabbed me by the throat, fixing me with his cold, gray eyed stare as he squeezed.

I kicked and struggled as he lifted me off my feet, squeezing tighter and cutting off my breathing.
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I woke up with a start. My hair was sticking to my temples and to my neck. My eyes were wide.

My breathing was shallow, there was no such thing as too much air to me at that moment.

The sun is up and I could smell the breakfast my mom was preparing.

I immediately flicked the covers off of me. I placed my feet on the cool wooden floor carefully.

I hung my head, still freaked out about my dream.

Those cold gray eyes. That malicious grin...

I shivered.

It was Saturday. I reach over for my phone and find over fifty missed calls, seventy new texts and forty voicemails.

I sighed, remembering yesterday's events. Josie and Riven had driven me over the edge. It almost had me on the verge of tears, though I wasn't sure I was ready and willing to admit that yet.

I sighed a second time, standing up now.

Those notes had me freaked out so much, my mind had created a person subconsciously to take responsibility for the unknown enemy.

At least that's what I told myself.

I turned to my door, ready to get out of this room and get this day over with when I saw it: a small rectangular piece of paper taped to my bedroom door.

My heart stopped as my mind cried, not again.

I slowly walked toward the door and I peered at the note.

"Tears are for the weak," it read. "And dreams are for the lucky."
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After breakfast, my dad decided it would be a good idea if he and I had some father-daughter time.

He didn't know that I had overheard his conversation with Mom last night. But I was completely dreading my dad trying to pull answers out of me

So after I had gotten dressed, I sullenly made my way downstairs.