The Living Game

(3) Dreaming About Me, I See

Some people are disoriented when they're coming to, after being unconcious for a long time. I wasn't.

Some people are sick, after finally waking up from being knocked out. I wasn't.

Most people are at least somewhat dizzy after they lose a lot of blood or have some sort of trauma. I had both, but I wasn't.

I could tell I had been unconcious for a long time by the way that my body felt. Sore and kind of stiff. I also felt that I was still in my green dress and there was something on my neck and shoulder. It was sticky and hard and, when I reached my hand up to touch it, flaky.

I opened my eyes a little wider and looked down at my finger tips. Blood. Ew.

I looked around quickly, only to discover that I was in an empty room, devoid of eveything besides the bed I lay on and a long mirror on the wall. The walls were white, the sheets were white, the rug was an egg-shell colour that was only one shade above white. Maybe I was in a mental institution.

That seemed apropriate, after what had happened. Only someone with some serious mental problems would have hullicinated that she saw the man she'd been dreaming about for weeks and then that he took her back to his classroom and drank her blood. And that she liked it.

No. That didn't happen. There was no such thing as vampires, and even if there was they certainly would not be interested in me for my paper, and I certainly would not have let them drink my blood. Not that I had really let him, I hadn't exactly had another choice. But still.

I had to think for a moment to remember where Jace was. With the babysitter. Probably she was throwing a headfit, or calling the police. Or both. Hopefully she'd had enough sense not to tell Jace I was missing and get him all worked up.

I stood and walked to the mirror. I took me what seemed like one step. I started toward the mirror and I was there. There was no walking. Only, I had walked. I'd felt my feet touching the ground in the steps it took. But they had happened almost in one fluid motion. Though I hadn't been dizzy when I first woke up, I sure was now.

I bent slightly at the waist, gripping my stomach and willing myself not to throw up.

I looked at my reflection, hoping to figure out what was going on by seeing what I now looked like, and dropped to my knees, gripping the mirror on both sides. It shattered between my hands but I didn't need it. The image was still fresh in my mind.

A girl had stared back out of the mirror but it hadn't been me. Her hair had been even more vivid red than before, more alive than mine, her eyes brighter and more beautiful. My skin had been beautiful but her's was practically glowing. I also noticed I was taller and my body, which had always been slightly hourglass shaped, was more proportionate. And there was something else. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

I looked more grown up, less innocent. I looked closer to twenty than eighteen.

Before I could have a full on panic attack, there were a few quick raps at the door. When I didn't move, didn't open it, the person barged right in.

It was a boy, about 5'10", with dirty blonde hair and a perfect set of abs. I could tell because he was lacking a shirt. Luckily, he had on pants. He was cute but at this point, I was much less concerned with his looks than I was that he was a creepy guy who just barged into the room that I may or may not have been held captive in.

"I must say, you look more grown up, now." The guy started, winking at me. "I like 'em older, but you can be my exception." He smirked as he reached his hand out for me to take. "I'm Theodore Noot, call me Theo."

When I cleared my expression into a blank stare and didn't move to take his hand, he dropped it and plopped down on the bed, his eyes appraising me before moving to the mirror on the floor.