"And we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive," my cell phone burst into song, shaking me from the last traces of my day dream. Startled, but not enough so to be completely halted, I pressed the cold screen to my ear.
"Hello?" my brow furrowed as no one responded.
I dropped the device as it started buzzing incoherently. The line was dead. Annoyed but not tremendously so, I slid downstairs. I waved vaguely at my stepfather, who was leaving for work. He didn't look up, or even nod, as he pushed his way outside. His hands were completely full of papers and a piece of toast hung limp in his mouth.
"Love you too," I muttered as the door slammed.
"STAYIN' ALIVE, STAYIN' ALIVE. AH, HA, HA, HA," again I answered my cell, and again it was a dead line. Eyeing the phone as if it was to fault for the inconvenience, I dropped it roughly onto the smooth kitchen counter. Its shining black screen stood out oddly on the sandy marble. Flipping my blonde waves back I sashayed back upstairs. Falling into my plush lavender futon, I hoisted a copy of Hamlet over my head, drowning deep into the conspiracies and other medieval affairs.
Hours passed, and the pages dwindled down. According to my window, it was already night time. An odd noise pulsated from the first floor. Heaving to my feet I trekked down the stairs yet again. The pulsing gradually formed into an all too familiar ringtone.
"STAYIN' ALIVE, AH, HA, HA, HA, STAYIN' ALIVE!"
A strange grip of fear tugged at my stomach. Pushing it aside I punched the little green button. Though it was expected, my stomach flopped as the line fell dead.
A streak of anger flashed, and before I knew it I was dialing a new number.
"Operator, I'd like you to trace a call…"
After a couple of tense seconds my phone rang in reply.
"Hello, this is the operator," a pleasant female voiced sounded, "We've traced your call. It's coming from inside your house."
"Wait, what?" I began to panic. My chest heaved as hyperventilation racked my body, "Hello?"
She had hung up.
Though I knew it was positively forbidden, I pushed a black hoodie over my shirt and burst outside. The chilly air stung at my arms, biting through the jacket's meager protection. The realization hit me that wearing jean shorts in such weather was completely inappropriate.
A silhouette stepped in front of my path, about twenty yards ahead of me. I froze in my tracks, taking a single, involuntary step backwards.
"You know," a smooth voice flowed from the shadows, "It's dangerous to be out at night. Alone."
"I suppose that depends on the company," I replied, trying to stop the shaking.
"Do you find me- dangerous?" he looked up.
"Should I?"
"Yes," he chuckled darkly, "Yes, I definitely think you should."
"Now, do you want to this the easy way or the-" I never heard the end of his sentence, mostly due to me diving into the closest driveway. He swore, obviously seeing I was gone. Looking around for any sort of cover, I dug my hands into the bark of the nearest tree. Hoisting myself up, I attempted to hide behind the dense foliage. Peeking between the leaves I saw my attacker burst into the driveway. He was younger than I had thought, seventeen I'd guess. Maybe sixteen. His hair was slicked back and he donned jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. Pretty average all in all, if he wasn't so- terrifying.
"Show yourself!" he demanded, "I know all about you Grace Reynolds. I'll just burn the whole place down! When some of the ashes get up- I will find you."
Cringing at the thought of my entire neighborhood burning down, I slipped smoothly from the great oak. He was already at the base before I hit the ground. He wrapped a rough hand around my shoulder, wordlessly towing me away.
"Hey!" I cried, "I-"
He responded to my discomfort by clamping his other hand over my mouth. I suddenly knew where we were going. The only empty field for tens of miles. The beach.
As he manhandled me past my house, I strained towards it, whimpering rather pitifully. He just chuckled again, pushing me forward roughly. After a few more minutes of this we turned onto the cliffs. Waves like black glass beat at the earth like they were its only enemy.
He released my mouth as he tried to keep his balance along the rocky surface, making his way to the shore below.
"Lighten up," I unsuccessfully tried to push the boy's arm off.
In response he loosened his grip very slightly. While his thoughts were on that particular arm, I brought the other into his jaw. Hard.
He unhanded me quite without choice, bringing his hand up to wipe the blood off his chin. I jumped away, dashing in the exact opposite direction. The sky was pitch black and starless, not letting me see where I was going. I stumbled to a halt as I nearly ran off the edge of the cliff.
I heard the boy approach before I saw him. His hands erupted into flames, illuminating his face ominously. I was trapped.
"Now," he smirked, the blood still stained his jawline, "You never let me finish. I think we're a bit past the easy way, don't you?"
Instead of responding I turned on my heel. He seemed to realize my plan, for he sent flames in an arc around me, blocking my path. Ignoring the bright ribbons of heat I ran, through the fire and off the edge.
Pain seared at my very being, as fire streamed off of my clothes and hair like the feathers of a conceited bird. The craggy rocks and roiling sea, once hundreds of feet below, raced at me in flashes of oily black and hard grey. The grey grew larger and larger and the pain grew brighter and brighter until all I could see was bright white agony, until finally with a jolt, all the air was knocked from my lungs and everything was black.
