All The Lives I've Lived

Chapter 1

"Fay, I need you to go make me copies!" Mrs. Elliott, my boss, handed me a large stack of papers with colorful charts and diagrams on them.

"How many?" I questioned feeling the heavy weight of the papers in my arms.

"Six of each, I need them for the 2 o'clock meeting." Boss explained. I nodded at the order but by that time she was back to typing on her computer.

I quietly made my way through the halls, papers in arm, humming softly to myself. I bobbed my head in greeting as I passes people in the hall. I peeked into Mrs. Sundeen's office as I passed by, to see if Amanda was in. The only person in the small office space was Mrs. Sundeen herself standing in front of her metal filing cabinet pushing files into the drawers. That was usually Amanda's job, huh. Weird, I wonder why she wasn't doing it...

I shrugged and continued down the hallway until I came to the copy room. I could hear gasping, steady thumping, and odd noises coming from behind the heavy wood door. I made a disgusted face and pounded on dark oak.

"My God really?! Having sex in the copy room?! Learn a little public decency!" I hollered at whoever was in the room. The gasping had become quieter but I still heard the weird sounds and... Splattering?

"What the..." I muttered as I turned the door knob. The smell of iron came to my nose when I opened the door. I flicked the light on.

All I saw was red. Red splattered all over the walls, carpet, and machines. A mid all the blood were two figures. A tall man in all black with a face like the devil, the dark olive color of his skin making his already demonic eyes look even darker. The satanic expression on his face made it evident, he was enjoying what he was doing, though he was completely unaware of my position in the doorway. The limp girl on the ground was full of holes, her caramel colored hair lay splayed out around her head like a halo on an angel. An angel being crucified right in front of my eyes, her life seemed to pour out of her and her blue panic stricken eyes flicked from the man who was stabbing her over and over again to me. . Those eyes belonged to Amanda, my best friend. I saw the terror that had taken hold drain from those eyes. To be replaced by an empty, lifeless haze. My best friend was dead. Killed by whoever that man was.

A scream stuck in my throat, practically chocking me, as the man pounded his knife into Amanda's stomach again. The blood splattered across the room from the force of the blow. I felt the warm blood splatter onto my plain white blouse and across my horror stricken face. The unknown man finally looked up with a look of surprise on his face, taking notice that there was a witness to the brutal murder that just played out in front of my eyes. My scream finally crawled up my throat and rang out and I turned and sprinted from that room. The papers splayed across the floors, long since forgotten by me.

I threw a glance behind me and saw him wipe the blood from his knife off on his black shirt as he grinned evilly at me, only strides behind me.

"Fay! Are you listening to me?" The voice of Rick Olsen snapped me back to reality.

I rubbed my temple and responded "Sorry, I guess I spaced out a bit there..." My hands were still shaking in my lap. I'd been having similar flashbacks for the past few months, the doctors said it was due to sleep deprivation and the trauma I'd been through, PTSD they said.

"Well as I was saying, since Valencio keeps finding you, we'll have to increase security." He repeated, grey eyes looked worriedly into mine. His forehead wrinkled and his eyebrows furrowed.

"And how are you going to do that? Assign the National Guard to watch over me?" I rolled my eyes at him. Seriously, it didn't seem possible to have more people "guarding" me. As grateful as I was for the protection I was being provided with, I missed my freedom, being able to live my life without having to keep one eye open while I sleep and looking over my shoulder at all times. The constant state of paranoia was taking its toll on me. I wasn't the same person as I used to be, though I was still friendly, the program had forced me to become more negative, un-trusting, and wary than I used to be.