I stand in the middle of a ruined house I don't know. The sickening aroma of burnt flesh hangs in the air, making me gag. The walls are crumbling away, and an eerie creak gives warning that the ceiling is slowly caving in.

I look around frantically, desperate to find some exit. But all of the doors are blocked by fallen building parts and flames.

"Help!" I shout, praying that there's someone around to hear me. "Someone help me!"

Nobody answers.

Another loud creak from above causes my head to snap backwards, watching the roof of the room. A shower of rubble and dust rains on to me, and I throw my arms over my head and wince as the heat of each piece burns into my skin.

"Please!" I cry out again, but go unanswered for a second time.

As the fire in the doors grows stronger, it sweeps into the room, bringing with it a choking black cloud of ash and smoke. I cover my mouth and cough as it fills my lungs and scorches my throat, backing into a corner.

The heat intensifies and I cower away, shrinking into a little ball and burying my head in my knees. I can feel the flames lick at my arms.

It's only a dream. I couldn't have gotten here any other way. I don't know where I am. I've never seen this place in my life. Nothing makes sense. It's only a dream. It's another nightmare. I know it is. It isn't real. It isn't real...

A harsh scream knocks the thoughts away from me, ripping away the quiet sanctuary I'm gripping so hard.

I look up again, noticing the burns on my arms and not really feeling them - but then I notice the girl in the middle of the room, completely surrounded by the fire like me.

She keeps screaming for help like I was, but she's not giving up.

"Hey!" I call and get to my feet hastily. I try to take a step forward, but almost as if they have a conscience, the flames roar upwards defensively and keep me back. "Hey!" I try again, but the girl can't hear me. She whips around, panicking, looking for a way out. At one point she looks straight at me—but it's as if she can't see me.

Tears start to sting my eyes, and I can't tell if it's because of the smoke or the pain or the fact that she won't hear me.

"Listen to me!" I beg. "Look at me!"

But she doesn't. She keeps screaming and gripping her hair.

But as quickly as it had stopped, the deafening creak of the roof returns. I look up and see that the supports are breaking slowly, and more and more plaster is falling away, the chunks bigger and burning even more ferociously than before.

The girl doesn't move. She's stopped shrieking. Now she just stares upwards at the ceiling with wide eyes.

At first I don't know what she's looking at. But then I see it.

Angry cracks score the ceiling and it dips lower and lower. It's going to collapse under the weight of the burning rooms above.

I'm yelling again.

"Move!" I cry out to her desperately, even though my words fall on deaf ears.

She doesn't. She keeps staring.

And that's it. I leap through the flames that separate me from her, reaching out to push her out of the way of the debris. As I jump the ceiling falls. There's a final shrill screech.

And then there's silence.

I bolt upright in bed sweating and screaming. It takes me a few seconds but once I look around my room I stop, realizing where I am. It's dark and the moon shines through my window, illuminating the space around me.

I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my head in them to try and calm myself down, just like I did in the nightmare - like I normally do after every nightmare.

Counting to ten, I shake violently. Too many experiences of that sort have changed me for the worse.

It's not the first time I've seen someone die. It's normality.

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I swing my legs out of bed and let me feet rest on the carpeted floor, reminding myself of the feel of home.

I stand up and sneak out of my room slowly before padding down the stairs and into the kitchen to get a drink and refresh myself.

I pull a glass out of the cupboard and look at my reflection. Messy hair, wide eyes, pale as a sheet - distraught and looking like something someone pulled out of a horror movie - yeah, that's about right.

I gulp again and go over to the sink, turning the water on and filling my glass. The sensation of cold water touching my lips helps to chase the remainder of my vision away.

I thirstily down the glass and put it down before spinning on my heels to head back upstairs. In doing so I almost walk into someone's chest.

"Ow," I mutter and look up into Hale's face. He looks back down at me, his face free of most emotion.

I bite my tongue and offer him a meek smile, but he disregards it.

Hale is the closest thing I have to a brother. He's quiet, keeps to himself, and isn't very good at showing affection, but I love him anyway because of the care he's given me since I was little. I'm not sure how I came about in his protection, and he's never told me anything about my parents; then again, I've never really asked because I don't see why I should care.

"I heard you screaming." He says.

"I heard me screaming too." I mutter a reply flatly.

"From a mile away." He raises an eyebrow at me, scrutinizing my face. "Did it happen again?"

I choose to ignore the question and instead take notice of his coat. "Have you been out? Where were you? It's the middle of the night—"

"Elyon."

I grimace at the name, then hesitate and nod slowly. He presses his lips firmly. He knows all about the constant visions and curse I've been blessed with. He's one of the only people I can trust to know.

"Your arm." Hale breaks the silence.

I look down and gasp at the burns that mark it from top to bottom. "I don't know what happened," I stare at it, shocked—and babbling. "There was just this house, and there was fire, and there were flames everywhere and it was really hot and I know I got burnt in the dream but I didn't feel anything when I woke up, and now I can feel it and it hurts but it doesn't make sense, except that there was this girl and she..." I glance back up at Hale and trail off when I see he isn't reacting to a word I'm saying. "Hale?"
"It's getting more and more real. And far too constant." He says quietly, almost as if he's talking to himself. Then, he turns and puts his hands in his pockets. "I'm going out again."

"Where?" I shift on my feet and ask sheepishly.

"Alana's upstairs," he dismisses my question and walks out without a backwards glance.

I watch the front door close behind him and mutter a quiet "thanks" before heading upstairs and into Alana's room. I always go to her when I need someone to console me because she's been through a lot of hardships as well—mainly to do with family. It's easy to relate to her. I view her as the older sister I never really knew; she's Hale's real sister, and the only person who understands me on a more sentimental level. She's the stark opposite to her brother.

"Hey, Jinx." she gives me a warm smile and turns her bedside lamp on. "I heard you and Hale up."

"Yeah," I nod, not saying anything else.

Alana isn't much of a speaker to anybody else—not even Hale. That trait she at least shares with him. But when she's around me she turns into a completely different person. She's kind, caring and always knows how to make me laugh. And she's the only other person who know about my secret.

She presses her lips when I go quiet and opens her arms out to me. Without hesitating I climb on to the space beside her on the bed and curl up. She pets my hair gently and mutters a quiet "it's okay" like she does every other night. It's been like this for the past few years.

I close my eyes. Being beside Alana and having her listen to me is just as good as crying.

A few moments pass and I open my eyes again. The light is still on and she's still patting my head gently, but she's stopped talking. I lift my head and look at her questioningly, and she bites back a small laugh.

"You drifted off," she says.

"Oh," I reply and hold back a laugh of my own. "Sorry."

"No, it's good. I'm glad you did."

I nod. "Thanks," I mumble, and hug her tightly. She hugs me back.

"Jinx." Hale's voice makes me stiffen. It's not the fact that I'm scared of him—I'm not scared of him—that makes me stop, but it's his tone of voice. Instead of the cool gentleness it usually has when he addresses Alana and me, it's cold and hard.

I turn and look at him uncertainly. "Yeah?" I give him one of the goofy smiles I practice to keep on my face every day, but it gets wiped off at his next sentence.

"I've found someone that can help you."

Sorry this is taking so long to update - school is never fun when all you want to do is write! Chapter 2 should be up within the next few days or so, hopefully by Monday. Thanks for reading and please be sure to leave a review!