Layla

Chapter One: Dream On

Brooklyn, New York-1973 

Layla sat up in bed gasping for air. Suffocation curled its fingers around her neck, squeezing. Her heart hammered in her chest, ready to burst. The beat of her heart drummed loudly in her ears sounding like a mad man banging wildly against a door. Sweat slicked down her body causing the sheets to cling tightly to her legs. Kicking the sheets off, Layla swung her legs over the bed and hung her head down staring at the floor.

"Breathe." She reminded herself.

The small breaths she took felt weighted down, and a sharp pain pierced her side.

Layla closed her eyes, but all she could see was the horrific accident that happened three years ago.

Foregoing that, Layla staggered out of bed and leaned against the wall hoping that standing would help.

"Breathe." She reminded herself again.

Layla inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. She repeated the process until her breaths came out evenly, and her heart rate returned to normal. Layla walked over to her bed, grabbed her medication with shaky hands, and popped two tablets into her mouth. She swallowed them without water and stood in her empty apartment. The distant sounds of the city filled the quiet space.

Three years.

It had been three years since the accident, and the nightmares still plagued her mind. Glancing at the clock, it flashed 4:00 am in bright red lights.

"New record." Layla frowned.

This time she slept for four hours instead of two. These nightmares never allowed Layla to sleep. Some nights she didn't bother going to bed. It was mentally exhausting for Layla, and yes. She was scared to sleep. Most of the time, her dream was about the accident, but there had been times that it would play differently. However, it always ended up with her never making it in time to save her parents, and the water begins to fill her lungs making it difficult to breath.

With sluggish steps, Layla went into her bathroom, and squinted at the bright lights that shone in her face. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she glanced up at the mirror and froze. Layla barely recognized herself. Her eyes had changed to their second color, purple. After her transformation, her eyes had turned violet, but overtime she learned to change it back to her natural dark brown color. Her violet eyes, which once was a vibrant purple, were now dull and lifeless. They gazed back at her with a haunted look. The circles under her eyes appeared to be darker, and small crinkles were showing in the corners. Her tanned skin looked pale and washed out under the lighting. Her slender figure was looking thinner everyday, but she barely had an appetite. Hell, even her dark brown hair that held natural caramel colored highlights looked faded. 

Layla gripped the sides of her sink tightly, narrowing her eyes. Anger rushed through her, as well as frustration. Her anger was building, and before she knew it, her toiletries were beginning to rise. Layla sneered, and spun around marching out of the bathroom. If she didn't get out, she was going to smash the mirror, or better yet her apartment. She needed to get out of her apartment. Screw the shower. She had just taken one four hours ago, and besides the smell of the city would cling to her clothes. Quickly, Layla put her jeans on, yanked her Rolling Stones shirt on, and threw on her blue jean jacket. She laced up her shoes, grabbed her sterobelt, and practically ran out the door slamming it behind her. 

Layla decided to walk to work. It was early, and usually she made it on time. One advantage of never sleeping. Besides, walking was better than taking the train. Layla hated taking the train to get to places, but it was quick transportation. Layla sprinted up the steps to the New York Library, glancing at the stone lions that were built in front. A small smile tugged at her lips. The outside exterior of the library was beautiful to Layla, and the inside was even better. Stepping inside, the smell of books filled the library. People sat scattered in the chairs at the large tables in the rose reading room. The tables were parted, leaving a large gap down the middle of the library, leading to a large, wooden check in desk. It reminded her of old teller windows banks use to have. Tilting her head up, Layla looked up at the murals of the rose colored clouds that were enclosed in the bronze framing. Layla marched forward behind the check in counter and punched in. She turned her sterobelt off, right when the song Dream On by Aerosmith ended. Getting down to business, Layla went to work hoping the day would get better. After all, it was only seven in the morning.