Keep Quiet?... Or RUN!

Long Time Coming

         As I sit up in bed, staring back at the man who has been assumed dead for almost 10 years, I am spinning, trying to figure out if this is another of my dreams. Maybe I don't know the whole story on my fathers disappearance, maybe I need to figure out why he's here. But I am frozen in my own skin, eyes locked on his, trying to figure out what to say to a man I haven't seen since I was 11.
      In that low baritone I remember from my childhood he spoke slowly, but with intent, "Ad.... Adarin.... I just came to warn you, it will all make sense soon. But know I am here, and when the time comes, you will find me again."
     "B-But, How?"
      And then he was gone, along with the storm. Sitting in my bed, I look around, trying to decipher if this was a dream, but everything looks right, my paintings and photos are all there, my sheets feel soft under me, the walls are still the same warm shade of orange, and my pillow is cool on my fingertips. Contemplating pinching myself, I can't decide who I should call. It should be the police, I did in fact just have my house broken into, but was I hurt? Was anything broken? Taken? Just my sanity, but that left me a long time ago. They probably wouldn't even believe me...
      The clock reads 5:47 AM, long before Tyler would be awake to come pick me up to go on our weekly breakfast and catch up time, but not too early for a hot coffee in the sunroom, and a chapter of my latest book. To be honest, it's the only thing that makes my mind go quiet, even for a minute. Picking up my book, checking to make sure my bookmark had remained when it fell out of my hand the night before as I drifted off to sleep, I head downstairs. When the coffee maker begins it's spitting and stuttering, and the rich smell of strong coffee invades my nose, I pull my flannel tighter around myself, and step outside into the  3 season porch.  Every threat of a cool September morning is palpable. Taking note of the unreal quietness, the rain still dripping from the trees, and with the unusual feeling that something wasn't right, I sit.
        As I begin to open my book, I take a second to reflect on the crazy dream this morning, it was a dream right?  There's no way my life could be any more fucked up. So there's a lot to my story, but let me start by explaining who I am. I was born Adarin Michaels, but my friend (singular) calls me Addie. It's hard for me to explain my life to you, because as of now, everything I know seems to be wrong. Did I really see my Father this morning?
         I have been having these vivid dreams, as long as I can remember, but it wasn't until high school, that they started happening when I was awake. Everything was fine before I started my sophomore year. I was popular, point guard on the basketball team, playing varsity and already having scouts checking me out and talking about full ride scholarships to a college of my choice when I graduated. My life would have been a lot different I'm sure. But after you go crazy, I suppose a lot of people walk away. And in my case, it was all in one day.
          We were warming up on the court, I was feeling amazing, with my long brown hair swinging behind me in my pony tail as I dodged left, dodged right, and crossed over to pass my teammate practicing defense and pop up and throw up a 3 pointer from my signature spot. When the ball swooshed through the net, the whole world shifted into gray, and I saw the horrific scene of a school bus being thrown over the Moon River Bridge by what I can only call, a humanoid figure. I had tried to write it off, as no human could ever be that strong. Monochromatic was the word I used to describe it once I stopped having a panic attack and could speak again. My coach, my mom, my team and my school, all thought I was crazy, or that it was the stress, and sent me home early from the game, but it hasn't stopped happening. And I have learned that my little grayscale moments, tend to come true. And it usually is because of me...
        Three students lost their lives that night on the way home from that game, the News headlines were all calling it an accident, but one of the survivors told the press, that he remembers someone calling my name, and that if I came out, he wouldn't hurt anyone else.
        Before I even had a chance to open my book and stop contemplating my morning, the sound of my motion detectors beeping to let me know there is someone turning onto my long winding drive. pulled me out of my thoughts. Checking my watch, 6:15, I am beyond impressed that Tyler is on time, as he was the type of person you tell 15 minutes earlier than you actually need to leave l. Rushing into the house, I throw my hair in a messy bun, and decide to stay simple with black leggings, my favorite oversized sweater, and my high top leather combat boots. Then I heard it beep again... and again... clearly whoever was here is not Tyler, and everything my mother ever drilled into me before she left me when I turned 18, runs through my head.
Hide.
If they find you.
You'll be poked, prodded, tested, and never see anyone you love again.
The Association will make me disappear.