Stranger Yet

Chapter 2: Shifty Circumstances

Chapter 2

Ayra woke up the following morning, after the long night of fun with her mother, which she couldn't yet remember, and after the painful reoccurring dream which completely disoriented her.

"Emmaleine! Emmaleine, baby girl! Mamas here! You must open your eyes, sis! You have to open them. Look at Mama. Look at me. I'm going to help you. It's going to be okay."

Small memories kept floating back into her mind. The woman's face, full of pain and worry, made her heart ache sharply. She couldn't explain why this beautiful, redheaded woman would matter to her so much. "It's just a DREAM." She emphasized. But still, she felt the bullet wound in her chest, the painful reminder of an experience she'd never had.

"No, no, no! Em, stay awake! Emmaleine!"

More pain spread in her chest. The words "I love you princess", from a man she couldn't see, and a voice her muffled ears struggled to recognize. That part was never in the reoccurring dream, but for some reason, it often came up once she was awake.

It took her awhile to come back to reality, and fully figure out as well as accept who she was and where she was. Even after she had come back to the present, it took her awhile to get herself out of the funk. She always felt so hopeless after the dream. It always felt so personal, and she couldn't help but love those people. It hurt to watch them die, a hundred and one times over again. It felt even weirder to admit she loved the people from her dreams. She did her morning ritual of convincing herself that it didn't matter.

Ayra shook her head. "You are you, and YOU need to get ready for school. Those people are NOT real, and you need to let them go. LET. THEM. GO." She was angry that she had to do that every day. She was angry that she felt so connected to these imaginary people.

Finally standing up, Ayra stretched out and groaned. Her body had been hurting terribly lately. With little to go off, Ayra assumed they were growing pains, late and no different than anything else she experienced, even if they were more painful than any she had experienced before.

She showered, scrubbing herself with her honey & hibiscus body soap and matching body wash, and lathered up her hair with Coconut shampoo and conditioner. The scents made her feel like she was on a beach. As the suds washed down the drain, so did her worries over the dreams.

She brushed her teeth, dried her hair, and applied the 30 spf moisturizer to her face.

She left her long, curly, black hair (which cascaded to just below her shoulders) natural for the day. She twisted it taut and clipped it in place with her strongest hair clip. Her brows were covered strategically by thick black bangs.

Dropping her towel from her body, she put on her favorite matching panties. Her breasts barely fit in the cups of the bra her mother had bought her for her birthday. She hadn't thought to buy a new one the day before. Grunting in disgust she pulled on a tight tank top to hold everything in place and attempted to pull up the black skinny jeans her mother had also bought her for her birthday. They no longer fit properly. The only pants that fit right were the ones she had bought the day before. The birthday pants had become high waters in what seemed like no time at all, and she couldn't button the button. Her simple outfit was ruined, and she was running out of time.

"I have 15 minutes to get to the bus. SHIT."

Opening the top drawer of the dresser in her closet, she pulled out the pair of black leggings she'd gotten from the secondhand store the day before and put them on. They bunched up on her ankle a bit and felt stretchy and comfortable. Afterwards, she put on her maroon Dr. Martin Leona boots and turned to the side, checking herself out the tall body mirror. She flung the shirts from the dresser in her walk-in closet and found the only one she thought might do enough to keep her from getting dress coded. It went past her bum, and only showed a sliver of the cleavage that hadn't been there at the end of the last year school year. There was a simple, white outline of skull on the front, surrounded by outlines of equally simple flowers. She pulled it over the tank top.