Anna found it difficult to identify the loud sound next to her. Eventually she opened her eyes. She slammed her hand against the alarm, which immediately stopped. The sound was still ringing in her ears. Anna grumbled, reclined back into the bed and pulled the covers over her head. As the winter mornings grew colder, she found it increasingly difficult to gather the strength to get out of bed. "Anna, wake up. You're going to be late," her mother shouted from the stairs. Anna stretched out, and reluctantly sat up. She propped herself up with pillows, and in an attempt to keep her eyes open she focused on the wall. The wall was light pink, and Anna despised it. Continually she had asked her parents if she could redecorate, but they refused. Anna's mother told her she was being ungrateful, how she herself would have dreamed for a room like this one. This made Anna feel guilty, and so she eventually stopped asking. The whole room was pink, the bed in which she sat was covered with delicate lace pillows and on the bottom was a large hand quilted cover; each square a different shade of pink; fusion to carnation. In the corner of the room stood a doll's house, that was a miniature version of the houses in Pinebridge; the exterior of each house was identical. Anna couldn't remember ever playing with the doll's house, despite her mother insisting that as a child she had to pry her away from it. Inside the house there were three dolls, which had uncanny resemblances to her family; her mother, father and younger brother. There had been a fourth doll, but it had been lost. Anna rolled over, glancing at the alarm clock: 7.03. Her eyes glazed over, as she repeated the numbers in her head.

As she pressed the palms of her hands against the sockets of her eyes, the number continued to echo. 'How?' she thought to herself. Since her earliest memory Anna Smith had woken up at 7.00am, and she had fallen asleep at 10.00pm. This had been the case for all of Pinebridge, it had never changed. In Pinebridge, nothing changed. As Anna approached the kitchen, she could predict the scene that would play out in front of her. At the top of the large dining table her father would be sat down, his newspaper sprawled out in front of him. His glasses would be perched on the top of his nose, and in his hand a large cup of black coffee. His brow would narrow, as he absorbed the morning news. A soft humming would drift from the kitchen, where her mother would be stood cooking breakfast for the family. Around her waist would be a light blue apron, with a spoon in the front pocket. Once again, she was right. As she walked in everything was the same. "Good morning my darling daughter," said her father. Anna took a seat to his left hand side, and reached over to the filtered coffee. "How are you, father?" she asked. "I'm very well, thank you for asking, my dear! Truly, I have the most busy of days ahead. It will take all of my ability to do what I must: for I must prepare the Christmas turkeys!" Anna's father was the village butcher; he and his brother had taken over the business from their father. Anna knew that he wished for her brother to take it over from him in the future, despite him showing now interest in it. The village was self sufficient, there were no imports; everything in Pinebridge was produced by local, family farms.

Anna and her brother began walking to school. The snow crunched beneath boots. They were both wrapped in their winter coats, Anna placed her hands in her pocket as she had forgotten her gloves. They remained silent. Anna and Fred had never been close; he was the golden child of the family. Fred had passed every exam with an A, whereas Anna had been given a B or C. At parents' evenings the teachers would praise the ground Fred walked on, telling their parents he was a real credit to the school. Anna resented him, and despite his effort to talk to her she would shun him.

"Anna" said Fred, "Have you noticed something strange is happening?"

"It is called snow," she replied sarcastically.

"No. Anna, what time did you wake up?"

There was a silence between them. Anna didn't respond, she kept her eyes on the ground. He continued, "I woke up at 7:03. 7:03, Anna."

"Time is changing," she replied. "

What do you think it is?"

"I don't know."

They remained in silence the rest of the way, and never spoke about it again. At lunch Anna sat alone. She preferred it that way. She reached into her bag and pulled out her diary, and began to write in it. Anna knew that she was different from the other children, her brain was wired differently. She was curious about things, while the others were not. Anna often questioned what was beyond the village of Pinebridge, as nobody had ever left it. The town stood alone. It was isolated, surrounded by large hills that protected it from the outside world. However there was a path that went into the hills, but where it went remained a mystery as no villager had ever dared to follow it. When Anna was 13 years old, she made the mistake of asking where it went to. It had been during a history class with Miss Ambrose, who was discussing the origins of the Jones' farm. Anna had raised her hand. "Anna Smith," said Miss Ambrose. "Miss, what is beyond the path? Why has no one walked along it?" "There is nothing beyond the path Anna. Why would you ask such a silly question?" Anna never dared to ask about the path again, she would only think about it and write about it in her diary. She had become accustomed to keeping things to herself. Often on her way home from school Anna would walk into the forest and find the path, but never dared to walk along it.

After the evening meal with her family Anna excused herself, complaining that she had a headache. She spent most of her evenings at home alone in her room, despite her family insisting she joined as they played board games. There would be the odd occasion she joined them, it was usually due to guilt.

Anna sat on her head, her diary placed on her lap as she wrote. She looked up, and thought about what she was going to write next, however her eyes were drawn to the doll's house. Through the window she could see a white piece of paper. Puzzled, she immediately got up from her bed to see what it was. She unclipped the side, and pulled open the front of the house. Inside she found five pieces of paper. They were rolled up, and placed in different rooms. Anna took one of them and unrolled it, it read: I don't belong here. She recognised the writing as her own, but couldn't recall ever writing it, let alone placing it inside the doll's house. Once she had unrolled all of them, she laid them out of the floor. Each of them said: I don't belong here. Anna felt nauseous, her head was spinning. She brought her knees to her chin, and dropped her head. There was a knock at her door. She quickly threw the pieces of paper back into the doll's house, and rushed over to her bed.

"Co-come in," she said. Her mother entered, holding a cup of warm milk. She placed in on the bedside table and sat on the edge of Anna's bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, raising her hand and placing in on Anna's forehead.

"I'm alright; I think I just need some sleep."

"You know you can talk to me Anna."

"I know."

"We used to be close, but I feel like you've drifted away. When you were little I'd plait your hair, and we'd go shopping together. I jus-."

"I know, I've just got a lot of school work," Anna interrupted.

"I'm sorry sweetie; I guess sometimes I just miss my little girl"

Softly her mother patted Anna's hand, then she mumbled something about having to wash the dishes and left. Anna remained in her bed, staring at the doll's house. There were many things about her childhood she couldn't remember, but she assured herself that was common. It was only when her mother or father told her stories that she begun to remember things, she found it hard to recall things herself. She pulled the cushion closed to her, hugging it tightly. It was 9.50pm, Anna found her eyelids getting heavier, trying to forget the events of the day. At 10pm she drifted off to sleep.

It had been a bitter winter in Pinebridge, and each morning would be greeted with a fresh blanket of snow. The imprints that had been left by the boots of the towns people would be refilled, and the car windows would be frosted. Although the weather provided a lot of problems, it was Anna's favourite time of year. Anna jerked up from her bed, her whole body covered in sweat making her pyjamas stick to her body. Her heart was pounding, she felt as though it was about to burst through her ribs. Taking a few moments, she tried to calm herself down attempting to figure out why she had woken up in this state. She glanced over to her clock: 3.04. Anna got up from her head and walked towards the window, the street lamps were still on. Its yellow light highlighted the falling snow, as it swirled towards the ground. Opening the window she allowed the fresh air to cool her, breathing in the crisp winter night. It was a sign. Anna knew that it was no coincidence that she had woken up in the middle of the night; it was her body telling her she needed to escape. In Pinesbrige everyone slept through the night. They wouldn't awake until their alarms sounded in the morning. There were no instances where a person woke up during the night. There was only place to escape to, she needed to walk the path. Quickly she gathered together some clothes, and supplies from the kitchen. She changed into her winter coats and boots, and pulled the rucksack onto her shoulders. The lock clicked, as she opened the front door. Even though nobody would wake up, she automatically tried to remain quiet. It was as though their whole bodies shut off to the world. Once out of the door she zipped up her coat as high as it would go and rubbed her hands together.

The snow began to fall faster, making it increasing difficult for Anna to see where she was going. She put her arms around herself, feeling her body shiver and quickened her pace. Eventually she reached the gloomy forest, the shadows of the trees danced around in the wind. The leaves had all gone, now replaced by a layer of snow that gently sat on their branches. As she continued to walk the path appeared in the distance, she knew that it wouldn't be long and she could finally escape. She took a step on the path, it was uneven and wound around the trees. The path was a muddy clearing, which looked as though it had been created by humans walking along it. However, she knew that nobody had. It was outlined by pebbles, which were carefully placed next to one another. It had been three minutes since she had begun walking along the path, the snow had subsided. Anna paused, her breathing heavy. She turned around to look at Pinebridge; however her eyes glazed over at what remained. The trees in the forest were flickering before her, as though they were merely a projection. Anna didn't dare walk back, so she ignored it and continued to walk towards the hillside. As she began to climb the hill she decided to take a final look behind her, she began to feel a lump in her throat as she slowly turned her head. It had disappeared. The whole village had gone. All that remained was darkness, as though someone had turned off all of the lights. Anna looked forward towards the hill and began to climb it, her feet carelessly stumbling along. She glanced back once more at what had once been Pinebridge. It was the last time she ever would.