League Of Misfits

2. Déjà Vu

I've always hated the dark, all day you can bottle of everything that's wrong inside of you. Only the people that truly know you can see the fear in the back of your eyes, but once you close your eyes and fall into sleep you lose that power. Everything you fear comes to life on your eyelids.
I was never one to jump up in the morning , ready to face my fears. I was the coward who would rather stay awake all night , just to avoid a nightmare. I'm the scaredy- cat who is afraid of hights. So no , I wouldn't say I'm brave, not in a million years.

I stare at the numbers on my electronic clock, in glowing, green numbers ,it reads Two Sixteen. By now it has become painful to blink and my sight is slightly blurry. But nonetheless, I continue to sing old nursery rhyme songs under my breath, a sigh and a moan, mixed in with a yawn make a rather disturbing noise as it escapes from my lips, interrupting 'Ring Around the Rosy'. An entire week has passed since my odd encounter, to which I remember nothing.

Funny how dreams work, isn't it? You can't remember a thing , but you have to re-live it over and over again in a dream. But when you wake up from that dream, you can't remember what happened, only that it was terrifying beyond words. Almost like déjà vu.

I wonder what normal people do when they have bad dreams? Netflix marathons and Pepsi seem like the most logical answers to me. Then again most people probably don't have dreams about being abducted, right after waking up on the side of the road. Or maybe I just dreamed that too.

I argue with my self for the umpteenth time this week, It's also safe to say that I'm pretty delusional at Two a.m.

I throw my hands up in frustration, scrunching my face in annoyance. Rolling out of bed , I toss my pineapple blankets off of my legs and creep down the stairs. The hallway is dark and i can't make out any faces from the pictures lining the walls. Hopping from one foot to the other I'm careful not to step on the squeaky step. I gingry step off the last step, and make a bee line for the kitchen. What could possibly help the most in a situation like this ?

Pop tarts! Of course.

After rummaging through the cupboards I find the strawberry ones. My favorite. I drum my fingers on the table impatiently as I wait for them to toast, when out of nowhere, my head starts to spin. I see a rainbow of splotches appear in my eyes and I crash onto the floor, my stomach feels as though I am in a fight with a sumo wrestler, and I'm losing, like someone punched me so hard it left a bruise on their knuckles. I'm ready to throw up.
And then , as suddenly as it came, it left. All of it , gone. I open my eyes , I had them squeezed shut so hard it felt like glue, and I notice something . Im floating above my kitchen table, flying around my kitchen in my Winnie the Pooh pajamas. And I scream, a scream that could curdle milk. Loud and obnoxious, probably really high pitched.

" What's going on? Please save me? "
I scream louder, which makes me rise higher, towards the ceiling. I can hear my parents scramble from their beds, as I continue to scream and yell.
My back touches the ceiling and I feel like I am being sat on my one hundred fat men, as I am squashed against my ceiling , the pressure of my body trying to escape and fly away. Tears stream down my face and my parents appear, rushing down the stairs.

"Katie! Katie where are you ? What's wrong?" My mother frantically calls, my dad chimes in , swinging his baseball bat as he yells.

I hear I crack and something hard hits my head, my kitchen ceiling walls fall to the floor , knocking my now burnt, strawberry pop tart to the floor.

And then I don't see my parents, the kitchen or even my pop tart. I see the night sky, billions of stars and the ground looking further and further away as I shoot higher into the sky.

"Stop, stop, no!" I gasp and struggle.
But seeing as I am floating around in thin air, I cannot grab onto anything. Tears stream down my face at an even faster pace. Hights are my phobia, my greatest fear, the reason I didn't go on the slide as a child.

My entire body is numb, all that I can feel is the wind whipping my hair in my face as I fly through the air, like a rag doll.

"I don't want to die!" I sob, " I have so many things that I want to do, places I want to go. Please." I plead into the wind. " I don't want to die!"

Just when I was ready to accept my sad death, as I hurtled into the moon and nobody ever sees Katie Jones again, I felt an arm wrap around my waist, it was small, but it was strong.

I grab a handful of my hair and shove it out of my face, I see the masked face of a woman. Flying through the air, pulling me along like she does this everyday and flying is something normal. I open my lips to speak, but I can't, I'm stunned, afraid, instead I simply choke on my breath and stare.

She is wearing dark blue spandex, as expected from someone flying around in the middle of the night. Her mask covered her intire face, black hair swirled from the edges of it.

And then she spoke, her voice was low, as though she was disguising it.

"I'm here to help." Was all she said, and she continued to fly straight ahead. I mustered up the courage to squeak out ,

"Where are you taking me ?"

To which she replied, " Somewhere safe."

This was either really good or really bad. I wish my stomach would tell me it was going to be good, unfortunately it had other ideas.