My Roommate's a Werewolf

Chapter 1: Raina

"The Dark House is dark and silent like it's always been. That's how I came to call it The Dark House. The house itself is vacant just like the woods. I don't know how I found myself here, nor do I know what this place is. I'm lost and all I can hear is the faint sound of waves from afar. Something brought me here and I have a strange feeling that I am not alone.

Without knowing it, I'm already inside the house realizing that the back has been demolished. Half of the roof is missing and burnt chips of wood, everywhere on the floor.

I bent down to study the ground and noticed something. It looked like a scratch. Five lines were carved into the wooden floor. I place my hand over it and trace each line. The small hairs on my arms and back of my neck rise as I feel the rough detail. It felt as though a human did this, but with very sharp nails.

My head jerks up when I hear a creak coming from upstairs. I stand up and walk over to see a winding staircase.

My curiosity is getting the best of me because I creep up the stairs and to my surprise, it only leads me to one room.

I stand in front of the door; it is open just a crack. My hand reaches for the knob, and lightly pushes it back with a creak.

I lean inside and see the room is vacant.

Or so I thought.

A shadow was standing in the corner, watching me. It's eyes glowed dimly. There was a creepy and evil vibe in the room. It terrified me so much that I gasped for air. As much as I tried I couldn't run. It growled, as if daring me to run. I still couldn't run. It's shadow grew bigger as the moon rose. I can't run. It growled loudly enough to make the room shake. I can't run. It finally leaps out of the corner, in the air, towards me..."

I push myself up by my elbows and jump out of my bed quickly, screaming.

I look around terrified and realize I'm in my own room. I place my hand onto my chest to control myself. I'm shaking with fear and my breathing comes out shuddering.

I need to stop wakening like this, but the thing is I cannot control them. I should probably be used to that nightmare by now. I've had them since I was nine years old; right after my father's death.

I check the calendar beside my bed and am relieved it's the twentieth of September.

Yesterday was the date of my father's death; now every year on the nineteenth, I have that nightmare.

Of course it changes a bit in awhile, or I manage to stay asleep just so I can finish the nightmare, but it has never worked. I've never understood what it meant, or why I cannot run in my dreams; it's like something just glues me there.

I've tried talking about it to my mother, but she's as confused as I am. I know I can go to those psychics that tell you what dreams mean, but my mother is afraid something evil may come out of it. Now that I think of it, I am too.

But I do believe that the nightmare has something to do with my father.

I look over at the dream catcher hanging over the headboard of my bed, then at my trash can with three others in it, and then back at the dream catcher.

I sigh heavily and grab the one over my bed, and throw it away, to join with the other useless ones.

"Excuse me."

"Pardon me."

"Oh! I'm so sorry."

"Hey! Watch it!"

Moving riots fill both busy streets of New York. I'm getting really frustrated trying to yell out for a taxi. Also, there's people walking wherever they want and it is not helping my headache.

It's also awfully noisy with all the beeping of the cars, and all the people walking wherever they want.

I'm on my way to the airport to return home from this modeling business, and I cannot miss my flight.

I shove my two fingers in my mouth and whistle as loud as I can. Finally, a taxi pulls over but some man runs inside, and the taxi pulls away.

"Hey!" I yell in frustration. What good use is yelling now?

"Asshole." I mumble under my breath.

Some people stop and stare at me. I exhale loudly, and run my fingers through my long, silky hair.

"Need some help?" A handsome man leans beside me with a smirk on his face.

"Yes, please!" I beg, as I watch him whistle and wave to a taxi.

"Oh my god, thank you!" I say relieved, and pull my luggage into the trunk of the taxi.

"No worries. All L.A. girls do it wrong here." He winks, then turns around and leaves.

"But I'm not from L.A." I yell to him, but he couldn't hear me.

I then realize I'm wearing my L.A. varsity jacket, but still he was another asshole for basically calling L.A. girls dumb.

I roll my eyes to myself and climb into the taxi, haggardly sitting myself.

"Where to?" The taxi driver with a Jamaican accent asks me.

"The airport please." I accidentally say in too much of an annoyed voice.

He nods with no other word, and pulls out. I felt like yanking my hair off, but I was just glad I was finally on my way home.

***

The airport was probably ten times more frustrating than in the streets of New York. I finally boarded off the plane and now have a big headache.

I rested my head beside the window and the orange streetlights streaked across my closed eyelids. Stars were already beginning to shine above as the sun set.

It was so peaceful it relieved my headache. The taxi came to a stop and I looked out the window and saw the familiar building with the words "Rosewood Academy" carved into the gravel.

I smiled and handed the taxi driver forty dollars. "You want some change?" He asked.

"No thanks. Keep the change." I said. Coming back (when you're a model everywhere you go is basically your home) home made me smile. I climbed out of the taxi and grabbed my luggage. I knocked twice on the trunk to let him know he can leave now. Once he left, I walked into the building entrance and noticed nobody but the doorman was in the lobby.

"Hello." The doorman greeted. His name tag said Steven.

"Oh hi, um I'm here to check in." I said.

"Are you checking in or checking back in?"

"Back in."

"Name?"

"Raina Pearson."

He typed my name down in his computer and started to check me in. "Well Raina, welcome back. You'll be staying in your old room which is room 308. Need help with your luggage?"

"Oh no, thank you." I said with a big grin and started to walk over to the elevators. I leaned against the wall as I got lifted up and yawned. Nobody but Steven knew I was back. Not even my best friend Allison. I wanted to go see her right now but I also wanted to surprise her. I decided to wait tomorrow. Once I gone up to my room the familiar scent of my chanel perfume and everything as I left it came back to me. I kicked off my heels and jumped onto my bed. I've forgotten how soft and comfortable it was. Much better than the ones they have in first class airplanes.

My eyelids started feeling heavy, so I let them drop and I finally slept throughout the night without a nightmare.