Only a dream

Chapter 8

We arrive at Zeke's house five minutes later. He pulls into the driveway and shuts off the truck. He fumbles with his seatbelt;unable to unbuckle it. His eyebrows furrow and I can see that he's greeting frustrated. So I reach over, which causes me a great deal of pain, and easily click the belt. "Thanks," he mumbles, obviously a little embarrassed.

I smile and unlock my own seatbelt.

Zeke opens his door and walks quickly around the vehicle. He pulls openly door and sticks out his hand. I stare at him for a moment, puzzled. What does he want, a tip or something? I look at his face and he smiles.

"Come one, you gonna take my hand or what?" He asks, am amused look on his face.

"Haha, ya sorry," I giggle before grabbing his hand. A shockwave of electricity passes through my body when he touches my skin. I freeze, mid-way out of his black truck. Zeke looks at me questionably. "Sam?" He says quietly, "what's wrong?"

I furiously blink my bright blue eyes. I can't describe what I feel right now. It's... Weird. But in a crazy, good way. I look at Zeke, for some reason I'm unable to make eye contact. My heart is beating a mile a minute. What is wrong with me? I take a deep breath, "nothing," I lie to Zeke. He looks skeptical, but nods anyway. He slowly pulls me out of the truck, the whole time that he touches me, I feel a strange shiver run up and down my spine.

He leads me inside, unlocking the front door. His house has two floors, not counting the attic. It's quite beautiful actually, for a house. Elegant picture frames dance on the cream coloured walls, filled with frozen images of him and his family; his mom, dad and older sister, Amelia, who's long since graduated.

Another magnificent feature are the many beautiful vases that compliment the house, filled with roses, lilies, sunflowers, tulips and even poppies.

The ceilings are high and spacious. Everything is just so...perfect.

Zeke shows me the stairs that lead to the bathroom upstairs; although I know where it is, he is after all one of my closest friends.

I slowly walk up the stairs, wincing as the tiny shards of glass from, the mirror cut sharply into my skin. I bite my lip and continue towards the large bathroom.

Inside, I find that someone, most likely Zeke, has laid out a white and fluffy towel for me, along with a rose-scented shampoo and conditioner, some lilac smelling soap and a pair of tweezers for plucking out the glass. I stare at it for a minute, before I frown. It couldn't have been Zeke who laid this down for me, he came in the house with me! So who...did? His mom? I don't know, but the glass is cutting into me, I've gotta get I'm the shower now.

I turn the shower on hot, and grab the shampoo and soap from the counter and toss them on a little shower rack inside. I strip out of my clothing and toss it all over the side of the bath tub. My once-purple shirt is now mostly crimson from blood. My jeans are full of rips and holes, but are equally bloody. I sigh and pluck the tweezers for, the counter, but not before I catch my reflection in the mirror. I gasp as I see the person staring back, a complete stranger to me. Blood is matted throughout my long blond hair and covers my while body. While most of it is dry, a great amount of me is dripping with fresh, crimson blood. Tiny little cuts also decorate my body, the most being on my neck. Little pieces of shining glass jut out of my skin. My eyes are bloodshot and slightly puffy.

I reach up and brush my fingers lightly over my neck, causing myself to wince in pain. I sigh and pry my eyes away from my awful reflection. I step into the shower and let the warm, refreshing water slide down my broken body. It's a little painful, but also quite nice at the same time. I grasp the shampoo after a few minutes of just standing under the water and lather my hair with it, cleaning it thoroughly. I scrub the gross, dry blood from my tangled hair and close my eyes. The water is so warm, its like laying under a comfy, protective blanket.

Smiling at the thought of a blanket, or even sleep for that matter, I wash out the shampoo and repeat the process with the conditioner. Once I'm done that I reach for the tweezers and begin painfully slipping the sharp pieces of glass from my skin. With each shard I pull, a new shockwave of pain echoes through me, causing me to shudder slightly. But after ten minutes of careful examining, I get everything out of me.

I toss the little pieces of glass onto the bottom of the shower floor and find the soap. Now with the glass gone, I can scrub away every splotch of blood I can. Pink water trickles down my legs and spins down the drain. Without the pain, it's easier to wash myself. I scrub myself with the flowery soap until I'm satisfied.

Turning off the shower a step out onto a little mat and dry myself with the fluffy towel. It actually isn't as painful as I thought it would be, now that the glass is gone. The glass!

I open the shower door again and scoop up the tiny, sharp pieces and throw them in the trash.

I continue to dry myself and glance at my reflection in the large mirror. I look better, but not perfect. At least I'm not bloody. Looking down, I see that a hairbrush sits on the counter. It wasn't there before. What the heck? Zeke wouldn't have walked in here, I know he wouldn't. I doubt his mom would, she probably isn't home. (I didn't get a chance to see if she was, we came into the house rather quick and I rushed to the bathroom.)

So who did it? I grab the brush and pull it through my hair, pondering on where it came from. Once I'm done I know the answer.

Her.

It came from her.

This is some kind of twisted trap. Ugh! Why didn't I see it before, I wasn't even thinking of her! I was lost under the warmth and relaxation of the water. She said she'd come back, and I thought she did when she popped up I'm the middle of the road, almost killing me and Zeke. I guess I was wrong.

I throw the brush down just as the lights flicker. Dammit. I pull the towel tighter around my body and walk towards the bathtub. I trip over seemingly nothing and hear a laugh.

"Hello Samantha!" Says that sick, raspy voice, "I always keep my promises!"

I scowl as I spot her disgusting, demonic reflection fade into the mirror. I inch away as far as I can, my back against the wall opposite the mirror.

"Come on now, there's no need to run away! We're all friends here!" She cackles.

"Shut up," I growl, because I don't know what else to day. Why can't she leave me alone?

"Oh, Samantha. Dear, dear, dear. You have a lot to work on!" I watch as she smiles, her teeth glowing in the dimmed light, pointy and blood coated.

"Get out of here," I hiss, "Now,"

She snickers this time, her eyes closing as her smile turns amused. "You make me laugh, Samantha! It makes me so joyful that your so clueless!"

"Just get. The hell. Out of here." My heart is beating so fast, faster then when Zeke touched my hand. I grit my teeth and glare at her.

"Fiery temper. That's exactly why I chose you, Samantha!" She giggles. And giggles. She doesn't stop giggling. Her voice has warped into some demented, possessed school girl. It seems to echo throughout my mind, blocking me thoughts. "Mark my words, Samantha Smith. You will not get out of this alive!" She says in her creepy little girl voice. She cackles one last time before her image disappears from the mirror.

The lights then wig out and I'm left in darkness, sitting on the cold tiled floor, shivering in my towel. I grab the discarded hairbrush from the floor, I guess I dropped it before. I pull my arm back and whip it at the mirror. An audible cracking noise fills the eerie silence.

"Stay away from me," I whisper shakily. But she's gone.

I get up weakly and stagger out if the bathroom in my towel.

I walk into Zeke's room about to tell him about Freaky Ghost Girl when I see what he's doing. He's on his laptop, sitting at the desk at the far end of the room. As I walk closer, I see what he's looking at.

A large picture if James McStefens is displayed on the screen. The caption underneath reading 'Psycho killer on the lose. If sighted, notify police immediately.'

"Oh my god," I whisper just as he turns around.