Chapter 3
I WOKE UP IN MY ROOM the familiar grey paint and rock band posters made me feel good like the feel of my black duvet and the sound of Jack breathing beside me comforted me. I just had a nightmare of seeing a red tombstone with my name on it. It says I'll die exactly a month from now which will be the 28th of February and there was me falling into the darkness having this terrible headache and body ache which was easy to believe since I really ache all over like I fell from a thousand storey building.
"Alex, thank god you're fine, everyone's been worried sick about you. What happened awhile ago, you were like screaming bloody murder?" Mandy said holding three biodegradable shopping bags (she says shit about being eco friendly and all, she's also a vegetarian and while she delicately eats her leafy greens I pig out on tasty juicy meat in my LEATHER jacket.) I looked at my clothes and I realized I was still wearing my ho-ish red slinky dress. Shit, shit, shit, it was all real the tombstone, the guy. Shit. "I love your dress, is it Alexander McQueen?"
"Yes, but I still don't care about the brands as long as it's cool, dark and comfortable I'll wear it, my mother just got me this dress." My mom owns this boring fashion magazine that does nothing but make girls feel insecure about them so they'll have anorexia, get thinner than a toothpick and die. But Mandy thinks I have the coolest mother in the whole universe and there was even one time in fourth grade when we invited her with us to watch some crappy fashion show in London they talked for hours and it seemed like I wasn't even there.
"Anyways I bought you this super cute dress, since I think you need some pink in your closet." It was a hot pink dress that looks like something a hooker in Vegas would wear. Tight and revealing. Sutty. Ho-ish.
"Thanks." I said forcing a painted on smile.
"You, don't like it." She said with the fucking annoying pout.
"It's just not my type but it's really pretty." Yeah, if you're a ho, Mandy and her sluttish choices.
"Not your type?" She said surprised putting her hand over her mouth for extra effect. She's a bad actress. "I spent four hundred dollars for that dress and every girl in the world would die for this."
"Every girl but me,"
"Fine, I'll just have it."
"Fine, it suits you anyway." I mimicked her tone. "Slut," I muttered.
"What did you say?"
"I said snot." I rubbed my nose. "Aw. Gross."
"Eww, you are gross." She laughed then put her serious face on. "You said slut."
"I would never call my bestie a slut or accuse her of calling me one."
"I should have just given this dress to Carrie she would have loved it."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, my head hurts, you're making it worse."
"You need your alone time so, bye, I'll just go to the spa with Sara, relax my muscles." She left slamming my door behind her.
"Why is she even my friend?" I whispered to myself as I slumped back to my pillow and drifted to sleep right when my head touched the soft pillow. Then the nightmares went back.
I was in a room this time, lying down on a red king sized four poster bed. A fireplace was lit illuminating the whole room and painting it orange. I was still wearing the tight red dress so I probably looked like some teenage slut waking up in Hugh Heffner's room.
"Alexandra Danielle Ruby Parker, you're awake." A man sitting on a high back chair in front of the fireplace said.
"Who are you?"
