Head Strong.

I Dream of Death. (Chapter 36.)

I woke up with a start and checked the purple alarm clock next to me on the chest of three small drawers. It was the only thing I had taken out of my suitcase.

It added that little bit Australian home that I needed.

The clock said 5:30am. But the sun was shining.

"You idiot, you forgot to change the time zones. At least you know when and when not are good times to call Marc. I think I'll keep it in the Australian time zone. I don't care what these snobs think."

I got up, and walked over to the spa bathroom. I check my reflection. Somehow, there were messy, fading, running colour all over my cheeks. But it was mainly what I had assumed to be black mascara that covered most of my face.

I didn't recall putting on make-up last night. Unless Marcy somehow did it without my knowing...

"Hey, where is little Marcy? Haven't seen her in a while. Or her aunts for that matter... Hm. Oh well."

I looked terrible. Then I realized I wasn't in my pyjama's anymore.

"Well, if memory serves correctly, I can't be dreaming, because there are no clocks in dreams. Then again, the clock was set in the wrong time zone... Does that count? Never mind. I should get cleaned up and out of this puffy thing."

I found another pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and took off the stupid dress that Lance had 'demanded' I wear last night.

As I slid the dress off my shoulders, I saw cuts, scars, scar tissue, and faded marks.

Everywhere.

"What the...What else happened last night?" I asked out loud.

But the worst was still to come.

As it came off my torso and chest, I saw they had both vanished.

There was just a gap between my top and bottom halves of my body, where my torso and chest where suppose to be. It was like some invisible forced was keeping the two separate halves of my body apart!

I stuck my arm through where the gap was. It went straight through. Like nothing was ever there to begin with!

"Just like the sword from last night...It went straight through his chest..." I thought, terrified, watching in the mirror as my arm pasted through to the other side. "And out the other side..."  I thought as it pasted through completely.

As I pulled my arm back, I saw it was covered in blood. And the blood wasn't coming from my cuts.

In fact, it was like I had never cut my wrist. They weren't there. No scars, no nothing!  

I watched as my arm slowly morph into a sword. Then as the morphing continued, it swallowed up my entire arm. My hand was the point. I was freaking out. I looked in the mirror. My face was morphing into different people I knew at rapid pace.

Mine...Rayna's...Marc's...Uncle Al...Pierre...Melinda...Bruce...Marcy...Lance...Mine...Rayna's.......

It seemed to stay at Bruce's faces longer then anyone else's. The expression of terror when that blade went through his chest was plastered on his face, but my head and reflection.

Then I pasted out.

I flung myself up. I looked around. I was still in my pink smothered room. The alarm clock was still in my suitcase.

Then I flung myself backwards. I put the bottom of my hands to my eyes, with my elbows sticking up in the air.

"This has got to stop. I just have to sort out everything in my life. I mean, yeah, the police and newspapers have probably found out that Bruce is now dead, that's if some snobby stuck up, spoilt sport hasn't blabbed yet, but they should sort of be thanking me. That's if he even was a fugitive... But still."

It's the past now.

So I wasn't exactly to sure why I was still freaking out about it.

Maybe because if we lived in a society where 'Its all in the past' was used to define a court's decision, then the government would have one heck of a mess on their hands, right?