Chapter 2: Chapter 1: The girl with black hair.
I'm falling, gazing up at the sky, so blue it's like an Insta-filter. The wind's whooshing past my ears, and I'm picking up speed. Been free-falling for what feels like ages, must be hundreds of feet high. No clue how I ended up in this crazy mess, all I can think about is the heavy sense of loss. Something super important slipped through my fingers, and it's gone for good.
My fists are clenched, and I can't seem to let go of whatever I'm holding in my hands. It takes a sec, but I realize I'm gripping a black and white feather. Tears start rolling down my cheeks as I watch it dance in the wind. And then, out of nowhere, a voice echoes in my head.
"I'm so sorry."
I groggily roll over on my bedroom floor, feeling like I just survived a zombie apocalypse. Cold sweat? Check. Breathing like Ive finished a major workout? Absolutely. If anyone saw me right now, they'd think I'd just broken a world record for the fastest sprint in a dream.
But hey, the surprise on my face quickly transforms into a 'yep, another one of those' kinda looks. This dream's a regular visitor, but today it's gone next-level freaky. I haul myself into a sitting position, and with some weird, unexplained longing, I glance at my empty hands. Empty as a vacuum cleaner's promise of cleaning up every crumb.
The dream might be done, but the sorrow's still got a VIP seat in my heart. And just when I'm about to dive into my own little pity party, I get a reality check that hits harder than a comedy show punchline.
"Ethan, wake up! You're gonna be late for your first day of school!" Mom's voice, as reliable as an alarm clock with a vendetta. First day of school, and here I am, tangled in dreams and drama. Classic Ethan.
My mom's voice echoes from downstairs like she's auditioning for a cheerleading squad, snapping me right out of my deep thoughts. Ugh, yeah, today is supposed to be my grand debut as a sophomore in high school, and if I'm honest, I couldn't be less thrilled. Goodbye, sweet endless summer naps. You've been a true friend.
I slowly haul my sorry self up, scanning the mess that is my room. Trash? Check. Plastic cups doing a dance on every available surface? Yep. My two pillows, loyal companions of my bed, plus those black sheets and covers, making a break for freedom by my bedroom door. Seriously, I'm a pro at not cleaning up, but even I've got to admit...
"Damn I've outdone myself."
Getting dressed was a breeze. I just grabbed whatever was lying around on my bedroom floor, which, let's be real, could pass as a modern art installation. Today's attire: a white T-shirt and black jeans, with a touch of nostalgia – my trusty black Nicky shoes from middle school, now sporting the battle scars of time.
I couldn't stall any longer, so I flung my bedroom door open and shuffled into the bathroom. First mission: teeth. Second mission: taming the unruly curls that had declared war on my head. I hated it, but I had to make it look like I put some effort into my personal hygiene, if only to appease my mom.
Today had two silver linings, though. First, I had the bathroom all to myself since my little sister Jessica had already jetted off to her elite private middle school. She's one of those genius kids who have to wake up at the crack of dawn, around 6:30 am, but hey, she makes it work.
The second reason? Well, let's just say it's way too embarrassing to spill the beans. Suffice it to say, it has the magical power to make my cheeks turn all shades of red.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, unable to ignore the minefield of acne bumps and scars on my face. Each new bump that appeared was like a tiny dagger to my self-esteem.
"They're coming," a feminine voice suddenly whispered right behind me.
I nearly choked on my toothbrush, spinning around to find... Well, nobody. I was alone in the bathroom. My heart raced, and I couldn't help but wonder if that dream had even ended, until darkness began to surround the whole room, converging in one place like a thick fog that soon began to take shape and soon there she was—a black-haired girl, seemingly my age, lurking in the bathroom corner. She wore a black gown that matched her hair, her skin as pale as fresh snow, and her eyes... crimson red. Her very presence cast a shadow, even though I'd turned on the bathroom light. Those red eyes, unlike my own, which could easily turn shy, remained fixed on me with an unsettling interest. You'd think I'd be thrilled that a girl was finally paying attention to me, but instead, it just made me uneasy.
"Who are you?" I asked, trying to muster up some toughness.
My question seemed to ruffle her feathers a bit, like I had no right to inquire why a total stranger had infiltrated my house uninvited.
"You don't know who I am?" The strange girl stammered, her trembling now seeming more like anger than fear.
I thought I'd misjudged her, but then a wicked smile crept across her ghostly face, and I felt a shiver crawl down my spine.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" She erupted into maniacal laughter, a sound that sent chills down my spine and confirmed that something seriously weird was going on.
"You don't know my name?!" The girl practically reveled in her strange delight.
"You don't know my name?!" She repeated, that eerie smile still etched on her face.
I was paralyzed, unable to utter a word or even twitch a finger, as those twin pairs of crimson eyes bore into me like a predator sizing up its prey.
"You will never know," she hissed, her voice dripping with menace, "and I promise you, I will never tell." Her threat hung in the air like a storm cloud, and I had no idea what I'd gotten myself into.
"But I will tell you one thing," the girl murmured, suddenly turning away from me, obscuring her face from view.
My heart raced, and I couldn't tear my eyes away, even though every fiber of my being screamed at me to run.
"There is no one I want to kill more than you," she whispered, turning her face ever so slightly toward me. In that moment, I glimpsed a visage twisted with perverse delight at the thought of ending my life.
I finally found my voice, stammering out, "W-why? What did I do?"
But her sinister grin only widened, and I knew that whatever had brought this eerie girl into my life, it wasn't something I could easily escape.
It should've made total sense to scream for help, make a run for it, or at least put my hands up to fend off this crazy person, but did I? Nope. My instincts were having a field day, yelling at me to do something, anything, but I just froze. Why? I kept asking myself. Maybe because this chick was certifiably crazy and seemed to get a sick kick out of it. Or maybe it was because, well, she's a girl, and it would've looked seriously unmanly to either run away or try to fight her. Then again, maybe it was because, beneath that twisted grin, I could sense enough sadness to send anyone over the edge. Or maybe, just maybe, I was plain scared out of my wits.
The girl spun around again, strolling toward the bathroom door, but then she stopped right in front of it, like she was waiting for an encore or something.
"The next time we meet will be your last day alive," she declared in a soft, eerie tone.
"Survive until then," she added as all the shadows in the bathroom converged around her. Before I could blink, she and the darkness vanished into thin air.
I stood there, gazing at the bathroom door like it was an alien artifact. I was too dazed, too stunned to process what had just happened.
"KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!"
"Boy, what are you doing in there? You're going to be late for school!" My mom's voice blared from behind the bathroom door.
I snapped back to reality, shaking off the bizarre encounter as best I could. "Coming, Mom!" I stammered, as I rushed to open the door and join the world outside, wondering if this was all just some crazy, twisted dream.
I carefully cracked open the bathroom door, revealing my mom with her short brown hair neatly pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, and her expression clearly conveyed her impatience.
"Sorry, Mom. I'll be down in a few minutes," I mumbled, feeling the weight of her frustration in her gaze.
I shut the door once more, turning my attention back to the mirror. My own reflection stared back at me, and I couldn't help but wonder, who was that girl with black hair?
***
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