Undertow by K.R. Conway (1st book in trilogy)

Chapter 3

I spent the better half of Sunday organizing the endless sea of boxes that found their irksome way into my walking path wherever possible. By nightfall, I felt like I had eaten a jar of ants and they were line dancing in my stomach. 

My nerves about the following morning at Barnstable clouded my mind. I had visions of spiteful cheerleaders and baffling miles of hallway. I was grateful that MJ was going to give me a ride, but asking him to be my personal anti-anxiety pill all day long was a remote option.

I barely touched dinner with Mae, who examined me carefully, but said few words. She was less than pleased with my vehicle choice, no doubt having hoped for something with ten airbags and a solid roof.  She must have had a touch of sympathy about the new school however, as she kept her pointed opinions about my black beast to herself.

When I climbed into bed that night, I had trouble unwinding my racing imagination long enough to doze off. Finally, in the wee hours of what was technically Monday, I fell into a deep sleep, but my restless subconscious rose to the surface in the form of an uneasy dream. 

I stood in the darkness, slowly making out landmarks. Timeless, tall-masted ships graced the harbor and the black water rolled under the white light of a full moon.  I took everything in -- the gas lamps, the cobblestone street and smell of the sea. My clothes were too heavy and the skirt I wore weighed me down, nearly rooting me in place.  I heard the faint thrum of running water and turned to see a fountain, tall and pillar-like, next to me. I seemed to be in the center of a small square near the harbor. 

A dark haired man, probably in his 40s, stood casually next to the fountain. As soon as my eyes met his however, I was seized with a crushing fear. It was as if I was alone in the sea and knew a hungry shark was circling beneath my flailing feet, waiting to pull me into the abyss.

The dark man started calmly walking toward me.

“Elizabeth,” he purred.

As I drew a sharp breath, the view suddenly swiveled and I became the spectator watching the man and a young woman. She was dressed similarly to me and she had taken my place near the fountain.  In one fluid movement, the man lunged at her and grabbed her by the throat.

My heart nearly leapt from my chest, my terror fueling it on, as I knew she was about to die.  I screamed to her, willing her to live, but I was thrown to the ground by some potent, invisible force.

Suddenly I was awake and on my bedroom floor, wedged against the frame of my bed with my legs still hiked upright by the tangle of sheets. I lay there, eyes wide, taking in the cracked ceiling and allowing my heart to slow.

My hands tingled from the adrenaline still loose in my veins and I quickly pulled myself up on my elbows and scanned the room looking for the man, but finding only the quiet of my bedroom surrounding me.  It was a nightmare, but it felt far too real.

I stayed there on the cool floor as time slipped by, trying to cautiously remember the dream that had shook me, but was fading fast from memory.  As I finally extracted myself from the sheets and reset myself into my bed, all I could remember of the dark night was a fountain, softly lit under the light of a full moon.

The nagging call of my alarm clock woke me at 6am and the vague recollection of sleeping like crap crept back into my mind. Of course, what really ruined the morning was the knowledge that BHS was looming in the very near future. 

Dragging myself out of bed, I got ready for school and pulled my hair into a loose ponytail.I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and realized I could hide better behind my mane, so I pulled the elastic free, releasing a mass of darkness around my face.