Timeless (A Prestonplayz Fanfic)

Chapter 12

Laura's POV

Everything is swimming around me in total confusion. I look around and spin, trying to counteract the mess my vision is displaying for me, but nothing is happening. Suddenly, my view falls into place, and I am standing in a harshly lit building with no sense of comfort or danger. The place feels very secure, but it is as if I could be murdered with one wrong movement at the same time. There is a lady in front of me at a desk, the shiny counter almost blinding me in the intense overhead lighting. The badge on her plain pan suit displays the crest of dignity, with the white stitched FBI letters seeming like a sore thumb.  She is talking about something, but I can't seem to make sense of the situation. Little words and phrases come out of her lecture like tiny bells ringing in my ear. Irresponsible. Wrong. Removal. Her voice seems calm but also annoyed and angry, almost nonhuman.  But then I hear a voice that I know, a warm rich voice that I know is real. It's his.

"Laura, why are you here? What's going on?" 

"I..." Before I can even try to explain what is happening, the lady cuts me off in her deep calm voice.

"This young girl is in some deep trouble so I would suggest you end your attempts at conversation with her. She has broken some serious Child Service Laws and needs to be under a legal guardian. But you shouldn't be concerned, Mr...?"

"Arsement" Preston says boldly, "Preston Arsement. And I believe I do have the right to talk to her, thank you very much." He turns to me sharply. "WHAT is going on?? You're not 18? Why would you lie to me about something like that?!"

Words are running through my mind like Olympic sprinters at the final meet. Even if I would have been able to find a sentence to explain it, my throat is swelling up with shock and can't speak. All I am able to successfully do is look at the clean hard tile floor in humiliation. 

"How could you do this to me? Why couldn't you trust me with this? You can't even look at me. After what we had just started you pull this? I loved....... LOOK AT ME."

He's shouting at me now. Again with a blur of words and phrases I can't pick up on and the only feeling I can interpret is shame. I look at his face and see it misshaped into a monster of sadness and pain, heartbreak beyond fixing. It barely even resembles him. My body is starting to tense up quickly, and I can no longer move. This isn't real. This isn't real.

***

"This isn't real. This isn't real." I am sitting in my bed shaking, trying to recover to the horrible torture my mind has just put me through. I haven't had a nightmare that realistic before, and I had almost had my hopes up for a time that maybe , just maybe, my dreams wouldn't be controlled by anxiety with this new life. But as if my dreams had a twisted mind of their own, they were able to take the new beauty I had worked so hard for a distort it. I didn't want to sleep now. Life was too good in the present and I couldn't risk another nightmare. I used to scream when I had them, and everything would be a disaster when I woke up. If something like that happened now, I'm sure Preston would come in to check in on me and I don't want to worry him about this.

I chill on my phone for about an hour, quietly sneaked out of me room to grab a glass of ice water, and tidy up my room as a way to distract myself. Clara never used to be one to keep her room technically clean, but you could count on her to tell you if you're room wasn't perfecting organized. But there is such a good feeling when you finally finish and am able to lay down in your freshly made bed and sigh because everything is in place. Keeping my hands busy, I begin to calm down and forget the horrifying imagery from a few hours ago. I soon remember something Preston had told me earlier about some guy he was good friends with. Someone named Mitch? He must be either really funny or good looking like Preston. I read one night in an online study (which you can't always count on to be true), really close friends often had the same personality or appearance. Other than me and Clara, I believe this statement to be true. It only took a few seconds to pull up the profile of a spunky brown haired guy with a pleasant smirk on his face. Yep, definitely cute. Probably comedic too.  It took me a solid minute to figure out why he looked so familiar to me. Mitch was the guy I had seen as I left our apartment for graduation. I most have looked like a hot mess to him at the time, my hair all in my face and a speed walk that could have probably run him over. Hopefully he hadn't seen my cap and gown in the bag I was carrying or else I might be in a predicament. In all honesty though, he wasn't anything in my mind compared to Preston, but he was attractive in his own way and most likely sought after by many girls. Unable to help my curiosity, I scroll through his profile and get a quick glance at the most likely prefect life this boy lived out. I wasn't wrong and soon stumble across something that proved my point but also scared me. Mitch had reposted an article published with a picture of two people shaking hand and a blue logo with a red and white shield. The title read, "Boy Beats All Odds and is Accepted at an Internship for the FBI." Maybe Mitch knew the guy who got the job or just wanted to share an inspiring story with his followers.  But when I scroll through the comments on the post and see how everyone was congratulating Mitch for his hard work, I knew the truth. It was almost a shock to see the best friend of my roommate was an FBI intern and not a party loving frat boy like I would have guessed. But then again, people have a habit of surprising you. Trying to be optimistic, I assure myself  that there is no way a small intern can know about a case of a girl hiding her birth year from the entire world.