This Night Has Opened My Eyes

Chapter Twelve, Class of 1988

CHAPTER TWELVE, Class of 1988 

A yellow scarf floats down to the ground, getting slowly covered by the snow falling from the sky. The street lamps reflect against the snow, showing the limbs of a young girl - all bruised up with blood dripping from the small, yet deep cuts made. Fog slowly begins to close in, and the girl closes her eyes. Her brown hair covering her face as she lays in the cold snow. Seeing this, you'd only feel like an outsider to the situation. Why couldn't you do anything? You couldn't look around, you couldn't hear anything besides the crunch of the snow as heavy steps walk away from the poor girl. Everything goes dark as the street lamp shuts off.

Samansa jolts awake, her breathing heavy and unregulated. She touches her face, making sure she's really awake - and pulls it back when she feels the sweat dripping down from her forehead. "Gross..." She mutters. She swallows, trying to calm her panicked thoughts - trying to make sense of who it could've been in that dream. It felt so different - yet so real. The dream was so vivid, one could think they were going insane. She can still see the lifeless body, the dim light from the streetlamp... she can feel the inability of doing anything.

She wipes the sweat off her forehead, and looks around. It was 5:20. That was late, by her standards... Normally she would've been dressed and on her way to school by now. Maybe this nightmare just... somehow kept her asleep for longer...? She closes her eyes, and pinches the bridge of her nose. She had to focus before heading to school. She couldn't focus on the dream if she didn't want to be late to school. She'd just find out who the victim was once she got to school.

With a loud sigh, she swings her legs over the side of the bed, and stands up, heading towards the bathroom. She splashes cold water on her face, the shock of the temperature helping her wake up. She looks at herself in the mirror, her reflection looking paler than usual. She runs a hand through her hair, and sighs. She gazes, her eyes locked on the reflection. She noticed the dark bags under her eyes, the paleness of her skin, almost looking sick. The stress of these dreams and the ongoing case she, a child, was trying to solve... The dark circles under her eyes were a testament to how little sleep she was getting - the result of constantly waking up at 5 AM by these dreams. 

She eventually begins walking to school, hands in her pockets and her head bowed. The sky was a dull dark blue, matching her mood. She quickens her pace, annoyance etched on her face. The dark sky and cold weather only seemed to mirror her feelings, making her more irritable and on edge. As she approached the school, she could see the other students chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Samansa couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. They all seemed so carefree. So... unbothered. Not plagued by these premonitions that haunted her every night. The sense of Deja Vu she felt anytime she saw something about these murders in the news.

Samansa steps into the school, and continues on with her usual routine. She enters the classroom, and sits. There was nothing to look forward to, except seeing whichever one of her classmates was the victim this time - who would go missing today?

She settles into her chair, taking one last look around the room. Mr Yashiro was probably gone by now, since he'd usually only come in to greet her at 5:20... it was now 5:40. Just another day, she thinks to herself. Samansa looks out the window, listening to the kids chatting outside. She lets out a sigh, the routine feeling monotonous and dull. She can't help but feel disappointed that Mr Yashiro wouldn't be there to say 'Good Morning' - the first greeting she got during the day. She was disappointed she wouldn't hear his stupid small talk, like asking her how her day was or anything. Anything just to get her mind off the dreams... yet, it wasn't like it made a difference. She wasn't exactly the most... pleasant person to be around these days.

If only Chiaki or Mirroa were here.

She slouches in her chair, her chin resting on her hand. She could feel her eyelids getting heavy, the exhaustion from the lack of sleep catching up to her. A part of her wanted to give in and close her eyes, maybe even catch a quick nap... but, she knew she couldn't. The risk of dreaming again was... too high. She was scared.