The Sound Of Laughing

She awakened again to the sound of the tapping. Oh, how much she despised it. Tap, tap tap tap. Over and over again. Never ceasing. The tap tap tap tap of the rain. The tap tap tap tap of impatient fingers. All she wanted was for it to stop...

•°•°•°•°•

It had followed her all her life. She couldn't ignore it. Couldn't cast it away. The mobre she tried, the more it came. It seemed to whisper her name... 'Lyla, lyla, lyla, lyla' on a door. Tap tap tap tap, footsteps on the ground.

•°•°•°•°•

It was getting louder everyday. It was spreading everywhere. Others were repeating that rhythm. She didn't know why. Lyla ran from it in the streets of London. And as always it followed her. The chimes of a bell, the car horns, even the dropping of a bottle. The loudest it's ever been.

She stopped running. She couldn't ever escape. Lyla slumped down against a wall in an ally. °why does this happen to me? Why can't anyone else hear it?° she thought to herself.

She studied the walls of the alley. Posters, lost dog signs, and graffiti. It was mostly covered with Harold Saxon posters. 'Vote for Saxon' type stuff. Lyla was seventeen and almost ready to vote. She wouldn't be eighteen in time for Saxon though. She thought of him as a good prime minister...

Suddenly the sounds got louder in her head. Pounding harder and harder. Drums. She finally new the sound. Drums. One, two, three, four. Over and over. Louder and louder. At one point she thought she would go deaf. She couldn't take it.

Lyla ran out of there as fast she could and tried to escape one last time. But on the way out, she ran into a man. He dropped a binder and papers flew everywhere. A tall man, around six feet. Blondish hair. She looked closely at his face. It was familiar..

"I'm sorry. Excuse me. I'll be on my way now." The man said, trying to collect the loose sheets. Lyla bent over to help.

"it's my fault, don't blame yourself." She continued to stare at him when he wasn't looking. She knew who he was. She just forgot.

"sorry, um, do I know you? " she asked nervously.

"well, if you pay attention to the news and just look sat the billboards, I bet do." He answered. "I'm Harold Saxon.'' He waited for a reaction of amazement. But she showed no expression. She just stared. Disapointed, He kept picking up the papers.

"you know, like the soon-to-be-prime-minister? Please tell me you don't live in a cave. " he said. Lyla snapped out of the blank state she was in. Of course! How could she forget?

" oh. Right. Um, hi. " she said stupidly. °how could I have been so dull?° she to herself.

"well, I better be going. Thanks for your help, uh.. What's your name?" Harold said.

"it's Lillian. But call me Lyla." She replied.

"Thanks for your help lilli- uh, Lyla. "

"No problem." Lyla turned to walk away, while Harold stood there watching her go. He thought he recognized her.

"have I met you before? Lyla! " she couldn't hear him. He ran towards her and asked again.

"have we met?" She glanced behind her. She stopped where she was.

"sorry, no. Must have been someone else." She said.

"Must have.. " Saxon turned away from her, and strolled away like nothing had happened. Lyla wondered why he thought he knew her. there are lots of people in London, so it could have been anyone. But there was something bigger than that. Why did the drumming stop when she bumped in to Harold Saxon?