I had originally began this story about three years ago, but I stopped writing it because I just got tired of it. I decided to rewrite it from the beginning and just publish it as a new story. [If you want to read the original 7 chapters, look on my profile). Thanks for reading!
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Chapter 1
I flinched as someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up into the eyes of Alexandra, my manager.
“Gwendolyn, your break is over,” she stated, glancing down at the drawing in front of me. I glanced down, just now realizing that I had been sketching a rather graphic war scene. I hastily closed my sketchbook and looked back at Alexandra.
“Um, I’m sorry, I just…got lost in thought,” I said quickly, hoping she wouldn’t mention my drawing. This wasn’t the first time she had seen me draw gruesome pictures. I looked her in the eyes, and I saw her expression soften slightly.
“Alright, but just try not to make this a habit.” She turned around and walked back behind the counter. I tended to have that effect on people. Although I wouldn’t consider myself extremely attractive, my striking green eyes would make people melt. Though sometimes annoying, it was useful at times, especially when I got pulled over for speeding. I stuffed my tattered sketchbook into my bag and threw my bag under the counter. I took over the register and resumed the monotone task of taking coffee orders. Without warning, the scene around me changed, with everything blurring and fading to black before I was transported to another location. I surveyed the area, noticing that I was standing on a dock surrounded by ships. In the background was a low droning noise that kept getting louder. I looked up just as the first bomb dropped. Where was I? My question was answered when I heard a man shout, “They’re bombing Pearl Harbor!” Bolting from the dock, I didn’t get far as the vibrations from the bomb knocked me off my feet and the noise exploded in my eardrums. I was sure I was dying as everything faded to black once again. Was I dead now? I faintly heard someone talking before snapping back into reality. The customer I was handing a drink to was waving his hand in front of my face.
“Miss, are you okay there?” he asked.
“Y-yeah. I’m sorry about that. Here’s your order.” He took the drink and gave me a strange look.
“Gwendolyn?” Alexandra called. “Could I speak with you for a moment? Mariah, please take over the register.” I hesitated before slowly following Alexandra like a puppy dog to an empty table.
“I’m so sorry, Alexandra, I don’t know what happened there. How long was I like that?”
“Well, from what I saw, only about five seconds. Are you feeling okay? You’ve been acting a bit unusual lately. Have you been getting enough sleep?” I didn’t really want to tell her that I had extremely vivid dreams every night, and lately, they’d been nightmares. These nightmares caused me to wake up tired every morning, no matter how much I slept.
“There’s just been a lot on my mind lately; I know I have no excuse.”
“Tell you what,” she said, patting my shoulder. “I think you should have the rest of the day off. I want you to be able to have enough time to recuperate.”
“Thank you so much,” I said, making my way to the back of the counter to grab my bag. As I pushed open the glass door, the cool breeze blew through my hair. The weather was nice in New York. Well, when it wanted to be. I walked down the street, toward my apartment, and tried to make sense of what had happened back in the coffee shop. What was that? A daydream? I was used to the horror that I saw, because of my dreams, but I didn’t know what that vision was. My dreams haven’t always been nightmares. Before, they were a mix of different scenes, each one of them different. Some were horrific, but others were pleasant, and some were just plain boring. However, ever since Daniel had died, the dreams had mostly been nightmares. That didn’t help the gut feeling that I’ve had that something was very wrong. I didn’t have anyone that I could ask, either.
I had basically lived as an emancipated minor for the six months, until I had turned eighteen in the spring. My parents were both dead; killed in a car accident when I was sixteen. After my parents died, Daniel became my legal guardian because he was already eighteen. For the last six months, however, I had continued to pay the bills in Daniel’s name, and didn’t tell anyone that he was dead. I was pretty sure that our building manager didn’t even know. No relatives were especially close to me, so nobody asked questions anyway. Daniel was a part of a gang, but he wouldn’t tell me any information about it. He would often come home late at night, but would continue to work his day job. Earlier this year, Marcus, a friend of Daniel’s, had come to our apartment and broke the news that Daniel had died. He didn’t give very much of an explanation, but I just accepted it. There was enough death in my life already; I had learned to just numb the pain and move on.
“Watch where you’re going,” someone barked at me, elbowing me out of the way. Rude! I realized that I was unconsciously fingering the necklace that hung around my neck. My mother had given it to me when I turned ten; she had told me it was an antique and a family heirloom. Despite this, the ruby necklace sparkled, along with the eighteen small diamonds that surrounded it. I was sure that this necklace was worth a fortune, but I still wore it daily, tucked under my shirt. It was my good luck charm.
I finally reached my apartment and I skipped up the steps into the lobby, jabbing the elevator button. I walked into the elevator, vaguely aware of a dark haired man entering behind me. As I stood silently, I became increasingly uncomfortable in his presence. Something about him wasn’t right. As soon as the elevator arrived at my floor, I walked as fast as I could to my door. I heard him walk behind me and I rushed to open the door. When I managed to get the door open, I was shocked. My apartment looked like a whirlwind had blazed through it. The couch cushions were all on the floor, but I noticed nothing was stolen. I made my way through the hallway into my bedroom, where it was an identical picture to the living room. Even my jewelry box, although the contents had been dumped on the floor, was still there. Something wasn’t right. I felt a prickle in the back of my neck; the same feeling I got when I stood in the elevator with the strange man. He was in my apartment! Before I could react, I felt the collar of my shirt being grabbed, along with a sharp sting in my neck. Immediately, my vision got hazy and it wasn’t long before I blacked out completely.
