"the more that you say, the less I know. wherever you stray, i follow. i'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans..."
In which a young woman with precognitive abilities discovers her future may lie with a mysterious Time Lord.
BOOK ONE OF T...
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MANY YEARS LATER...
Things are getting better -- that's what she keeps telling herself. Things have to get better. They just have to.
It's why she's fine with a dreamless sleep. She doesn't need visions tormenting her as she slumbers. The meds were doing their job, easing the madness of it all. This was a step towards normalcy. In time, she could learn how to worry about the present instead of dreading the future. She'd be able to move out of her foster family's house and the cupboard-sized bedroom she was steadily growing too big for.
Morning light peeked through the gap under her doorway as the young woman groaned in her folding bed. Willow rubbed her eyes with the back of her wrist, yawning.
As she slowly came through, light peeking through the gap under the doorway, a voice called out to her. "Will, you up?" her eyes fluttered open, her cheeks smushed against the single pillow under her head. "Will!"
"It's Sunday!" she yelled back.
"It's actually Monday, but you can lay in if you want." Rose, her foster sister, replied. "You know, you might lose your job in the process, but it's worth it for an extra couple of hours, right?"
The young woman groaned. "Ugh..."
"Can you be ready in ten?" she asked.
Willow flipped onto her back, releasing a sigh as she stared up at the ceiling. "I guess I can try."
Trying was something she was moderately good at. She didn't want to try, but she had to for the sake of her own sanity.
This is how most days went. Willow would get up, have a quick cup of tea, bid her mother farewell, then follow Rose out the front door and make their way downstairs. They'd get onto the next bus to central London and get to their job by eight o'clock.
Everything ran like clockwork -- and the continuity was beginning to strain. The monotony of it all was going to drive her insane if she didn't break out sooner or later. Something had to change.
Often Willow would find herself questioning if there was more to this, but those thoughts were met with shrugging shoulders and occasionally a vision that would cause her discomfort. She was getting better at controlling it, though. All she had to do was focus on the present, which is harder than people think.
The clock ticked on, and soon enough, it was the middle of the day. Shifting sunlight reflected against the shop windows, blinding her if she looked a certain way. Willow folded some male flannels, flattening them with her palms and placing them on shelves.
Every so often, an ignorant customer would come along and mess up the display, only infuriating her. There was this huge sale on, so everyone wanted a piece of reduced clothing. She was lucky not to be on tills today.
