She is running. From what, she's not sure, but the mere thought at halting to find out, or even cast a glance above her shoulder is enough to fill her with terror. Better to run, not knowing what's chasing her through the night. Whatever it is, it's laughing at her, at her fear.
Run! she tells herself, and she is. Running forward, even though she isn't actually sure where she's going. For all she knows, she could encounter a dead end at any moment now. A dead end. Death could be waiting for her everywhere. The buildings seem to blur into one another, and she push herself harder, further into the night. She have to keep running. That is all that matters now. Her shallow breaths are not sufficient to keep her already failing muscles running forever. Some of them have already started giving up, numbing and making it hard to keep her balance.
And there it is. The dead end.
She skidder to a halt, pressing her palms against the cold and rough concrete, drawing sobbing, exhausted breaths. A dead end for her. Trembling, she slowly move her gaze towards the chaser, whom she still can hear laughing mockingly at her. All she can se are the black and shadowy robes, draping him in impenetrable shadows.
"Who are you!" she calls out, and press her back against the concrete. "What do you want from me?"
"What I want?" the shadow asks, still laughing. "And who am I? You really don't know that? After all, this is all your doing, and you should be aware of your own actions, young lady."
"I've never ever met you before!" she shrieks.
"Oh, but you have, Anna. You have met me, I have met you. And not once, or twice. We meet each other every day."
"Then show your face!" she sobs, but as soon as the words pass her lips she knows with a certainty that she won't live to tell about it. But it is too late to go back now, as the robed figure draw back its hood and reveal the face beneath.
It is not a very frightening face, really. The robed figure was in fact right about her knowing it. All too well, in fact. Its face is that of a young woman in her late teens or early twenties. Her dark-blonde hair frames her face and somehow light up the rest of the face. But Anna can't feel relieved by knowing that face. Not with that malicious smile and... crazy hunger in the eyes.
"Emma?" she tries, unable to keep her voice steady.
"No, Anna." she answers, still smiling. "I'm not Emma."
"Then who are you!" she cries. "What are you?"
"I am you." the figure answer, smile fading away. "In two years time, this is what you will have become. A creature working in the dark. Someone who don't hesitate to kill if need be. Someone people might fear. A nightmare to your enemies, and a protective veil for your allies."
"You're lying!" Anna says, still trembling.
"Why would I lie to myself?" Other Anna ask.
"You're not real!"
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm too stubborn for my own good." Other Anna sighs. "Fine. When the time comes, you'll embrace it. Trust me."
With those words she steps forward and flicks her wrist. Anna can see a glimpse of steel before she feel it penetrate her abdomen.
With a gasp she sit up straight in her bed, staring wildly into the night. She's sweating and shaking madly, and still feel the sharp pain in her abdomen where she was stabbed. By herself.
"Just a dream..." she whispers, trying to calm herself. "Just another stupid dream..."
She's had these dreams for weeks now. Never ever the same one. All of them with her death in the end. The shadowy figure wasn't new, but this was the first time it revealed its face to her. Her face. The dreams start out normal, uninteresting. Then, she always feel an unexplainable terror and need to run, or at times fight. Or kill.
She hates them. The dreams are starting to freak her out now, and that's not just because she was stabbed by herself a minute ago. What really freaks her out is that she still can feel traces of pain, and still feel her muscles aching from the failed attempt to escape.