Something was off about today.
It was a normal Monday and, like any other Monday, I got up, took a shower, got ready and went to school. I had an odd feeling, a sense of foreboding that just wouldn't go away. However, today seemed to be just another Monday.
School was boring, I dozed through my classes, taking minimal notes and ignoring the teacher's monotonous droning.
My mind buzzed with thoughts of my stories and writing, they whirled around my head, distracting me and causing me to think of ways to continue my stories as soon as I got home. I wanted to be a nurse, I knew that, and I also knew that to be one I needed to pay attention, but... writing was my passion. I loved writing so much that it was sometimes hard to explain.
I loved fiction, I loved being completely immersed in worlds that were not my own and spending years going on dangerous quests without ever leaving my room. I loved being able to read to the point where I couldn't tell I was actually reading. That part where words were no longer words and I could no longer feel the book. That moment when you're no longer reading, but rather feeling, seeing, living the story. That was what I loved.
I was a fangirl, and I wasn't afraid to admit it. I got lost in my fandoms. I didn't see the characters as just characters, I didn't view a story as just a story, or a book. To me, they were so much more.
These thoughts plagued my brain all day long, forcing me to climb the stairs and make a beeline for my room as soon as I got home, not even stopping for a snack.
As soon as I sat down on my bed, I jerked my computer out of my backpack and powered it up, entering the password in feverishly.
I brought up my account and had just begun typing when it started.
The front door slammed, followed by it opening again and closing normally. Mum and Dad were home.
Groaning, I began to search my room for headphones, I really didn't want to hear the inevitable fight. They had them every day now, always over the stupidest things, dinner wasn't cooked enough, she didn't want to watch that movie, his shirt was frayed. Stupid stuff.
However, even though they were always over stupid, small things, they always turned into raging arguments. Almost all of the family china had broken due to Mum throwing things at Dad and he had threatened to leave so many times I'd lost count.
They'd end up wearing each other out with their nonstop screaming and collapse on a heap on their bed.
I, meanwhile, would sit in my room with my headphones blasting at full volume trying to ignore them. Trying to ignore the crashes, thumps, and screams. I hated it, I had hated loud noises before, I had hated being yelled at before, I hated people yelling at each other in front of me before, but this brought it to a whole new level.
Now I just hated the screaming, I hated the shouting and the crying and the noise.
But I hated the silence too.
When my parents fought, I at least knew that they were trying to make it work, when it was silent, that was even worse than the screaming. When they were silent, it seemed like they just didn't care enough anymore. The silence was so much louder and suffocating than the fights were.
My parents loved each other very much, I knew that. It was so obvious to everyone but them.
They were always saying that they couldn't care less if something happened to the other, or that they'd be glad to get a divorce, but I knew better.
I knew for a fact that if something happened to one, then the other would be completely devastated. I knew that they both still trusted each other with everything. I knew that they couldn't stand the thought of the other with someone else. I knew that they were each other's world.
But it didn't help, love or not, their marriage was spiraling.
There was a saying, 'Can two people be made for each other, but not made to be together?' I honestly didn't know. Both Mum and Dad were passionate, stubborn, and wouldn't back down for the world. Mum was sweet, loving and kind, Dad was proud and a complete tsundere, all haughty and cold on the outside, but completely protective and soft on the inside.
They were perfect for each other, in every way, but something got in the way of their relationship, that something was me.
I remembered times when I was really little, happy times where Mum would take me to the park, Dad showing up when his shift ended, he would look tired and beaten, but as soon as he saw us he would perk up, a smile immediately gracing his face. Mum would hand him some food and we'd just sit there, at our picnic in the park.
They always said that it was how they spent too much or too little time with each other, that it was because maybe they just weren't really meant to be together, or that they just needed to sit down and talk. I knew the truth.
They'd always had fights, every couple did, but they started getting bad when I turned 14 and Mom let me get my ears pierced several times, in retaliation, Dad let me get a tattoo, several in fact.
Then, the fights had been about the way that they were raising me, and what they were letting me do.
After that, it had really just snowballed, from the way they were raising me to my grades, then to my friends, then each other's flaws, then the stupid fights began. It was like they were looking for things to fight about.
We hadn't had a picnic in years, in fact, I could barely remember the last time we'd been happy as a family, it was my fault.
A series of thumps and crashes echoed from downstairs and I winced, well, there went the last of the china.
My searching grew more harried as I went through my room, where were my headphones?
A glint of silver caught my eye, turning sharply I lunged for them, I snatched up the little pests quickly and... ah, crap.
They were broken.
Right there, where the plug thing should be, was a nice piece of decimated wire.
Damn, a grimace took hold of my face and I immediately set out for the next best thing. Just as the noise from downstairs began escalating I grabbed my copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban and I climbed through my window to sit on the almost horizontal roof, sliding the glass pane shut.
It didn't completely block out the screaming, but at least it muffled it.
The Prisoner of Azkaban was one of my favorites in the series, mainly because of the peeks of the Marauders we get, they were my favorite characters, granted, they were probably a lot of peoples favorites, but I just love loved them.
The fandom didn't actually have much to go on for their canon personalities, but I had read so many headcanons and theories and meta about them that I had constructed their characters in my head.
And I will never give up my headcanons even if my girl Joanne tries to pry them from my cold. dead. fingers.
Anyway, the Marauders were my favorites, though Fred and George gave them a run, so did Ginny (book version of course) and McGonagall of course. Because, really, McGonagall is a top-notch BAMF, on par with Peggy Carter, who has my utmost respect we should all hail McGonagall as the McGonagoddess that she is.
Tracing the old binding, the scent of aged pages filled my senses, bringing a blissful smile to my face.
I'd been hearing the e-reader vs books argument since I was 12, and it still confused me. How could anyone even think of trying to replace this?
Exhaling slowly, I leaned against the wall of my house, opening the book and getting lost in the pages.
CRASH
"Look at what you did!"
Or at least trying to. The faint voices of my parents reached through the walls, groaning, I slumped back against the side of the house, letting my head hit the window a bit too hard, maybe if I hit it hard enough, then I would give myself a concussion and go into a coma and dream about going to Hogwarts with the Marauders for the rest of my life.
Sigh, if only.
Biting my lip, I stared at the sky, I really did wish that Hogwarts was my life.
^.^
Urg. Ouch.
Muscles throbbed, joints I didn't even know I had ached. Had I fallen asleep?
Groaning, I propped my complaining body up onto my arms, cracking my eyes open and seeing. . . And seeing the hard dirt ground beneath me?
The hell?
Where.. where was I?
I had seen enough Supernatural to recognize crossroads when I saw them, and I was laying right in the middle of a nice dirt one, but that begged the question how in the hell did I get here!?
Grass fields stretched all around me as far as the eye could see, the roads stretching just as far.
What the hell?
What. The. Hell.
A thin layer of fog clung to the ground, moving in a way that almost made it seem alive. A starless expanse of black spanned the sky above, the moon giving off the only light for probably miles.
Even so, it was unnaturally easy for me to see my surroundings, it should have been pitch black, it really should've, but the area around me was strangely well lit in an almost, well, the only way to describe it was ethereal.
Chills, the bad kind, ran down my spine as I cautiously stood up.
Rationally, I knew that I should be scared, I should be afraid, I should be terrified out of my mind, but the feeling just wouldn't come, instead of feeling fear, I felt a strangely calm sensation and a sense of pressure, like I was deciding the fate of the universe.
Well... maybe not the universe, but the fate of something for sure.
Yours
What?
I whipped around, searching every inch around me for another person. I heard that, I knew I did, A voice that was there- and yet wasn't. As I looked for a person who just wasn't there, I only had one thought.
This was not going to end well.
There was a quick flash, bright enough to blind me for a second, but lasting no longer than that. Still though, I thought as I rubbed my eyelids, blinking out the whiteness. Now, setting the whole kidnapping-and-transporting-me-to-probably-another-dimension thing aside, blinding me was just plain rude, there was no reason for it.
Once my vision was reasonably back to normal I peeked through cracked eyelids. In Supernatural whenever the targeted character opened their eyes back up and went to investigate, they died, hard. And I was not ready to become one of the Supernatural first five minute characters.
Though, there didn't seem to be any gruesome monster, ghoul, vampire, or other. Well, not that I could see anyway.
Cautiously, I opened my eyes all the way, wary of anything that might spring at me.
What the hell?
Oof, I was saying, or rather thinking, that quite a lot, mind-cussing was still cussing, sorry Jesus.
But still; What the hell?
My guard dropped as I stared in confusion.
This... this was not a monster trying to kill and/or eat me.
This was... I had no idea what this was actually.
The crossroads I had been dropped onto was pretty standard, four roads all meeting, on the road to my right, just about 3 meters or so away, sat a picture of my family. Me, my dad, and my mum, all beaming with our obviously fake smiles and uncomfortable demeanors.
On the road straight ahead of me sat a book, there was no cover art, or title, it was just a simple, nondescript book with a plain black cover.
Who the hell left a book on the ground!?
A slight anger invaded my mind and I strode forward, the picture all but forgotten, to pick up the book. I didn't care if it was some weird Percy Jackson-type god who picked me up and left me here or if it was the universe itself, you do not leave books on the ground.
There was a slight nagging in the back of my mind as I reached for the book; like I was doing more than just picking up an old book. I ignored it.
The book in my hands, I cradled it and glared up at the sky.
You have made your choice
There it was again! The voice... What did it mean I made my choice? I just picked up a book.
My eyes widened, I picked up a book.. and disregarded my family.
I had read enough crappy self-insert dimension-hopping fanfiction to figure out the symbolism there. Whipping around, I began to panic, searching for the picture, this was not happening, I didn't want to be a character in a crappy fanfiction.
The world rumbled and cracks began to split the earth widening as they neared me.
No. I turned and began running, this was not happening, this was not happening.
Agh. Oh god. This was awful. Why would anyone run? I could feel my legs stiffening in protest at the sudden use and my breath began shorting out. The hell? I'd only been running for like 3 seconds? Wow, that was sad.
And then the ground gave out under me.