I was sitting in the car singing along to a song on the radio, reading my Harry Potter book for the umpteenth time, waiting for my little brother and our mother to finish their shopping. Teenage hormones caused me to wait in the car impatiently instead of joining them in the store and actually act like I was part of the family. It's not like I would absolutely die from not tagging along while my brother bought something or other that he would probably toss to the back of his closet and forget about in a few days.

There were balloons tied to the parking sign in front of my mom's little Honda and every time the wind whipped the air-filled decorations, shadows danced through the car, making me antsy. The past week I had been feeling paranoid, noticing when a shadow would move or stop and listen when the birds would go quite while I enjoyed the sun in my backyard. The only thing I could think of was the fact of Voldemort coming back to power -- in Harry Potter of course -- but it didn't stop the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. The feeling that I was being watched... by something that wasn't to be trusted. I wasn't sleeping well either. I just felt plain weird and I hadn't the slightest idea why.

I sighed and pinched down the corner of my page, staring at the words till they looked like illegible squiggly lines, racing across the page. I huffed and slammed the book shut. This Umbridge lady was making me more annoyed than usual, and I was only at the very beginning of her extremely long list of annoying and downright malicious actions.

There it was. That queasy feeling that made my stomach contract. Usually it was only a quiver of my insides, but this time it felt like an iron fist was trying to dry a wet rag. This time the rag just happened to be my stomach. I let out a gasp of pain and clutched the book tightly, digging my fingernails into the hard cover. I locked my jaw to restrain myself from biting my tongue, and I dipped my head forward and letting my hair that currently shone like new copper, fall around my face. I shook my head and pressed my knuckles hard to my forehead. The iron fist was gripping tighter and tighter, and I knew something was happening. Something I had been antsy about all week. Whoever was watching me must be close, close enough to kill, or do whatever they were going to do to me. I shook my head again and before my long hair fell back to cover my face like a curtain something flashed out of the corner of my eye.

I turned my head quickly and stared out my right window. I felt my mouth form an 'o' and I couldn't even let out a scream before the truck collided with the back right corner of the car, smashing headfirst into the door and window on my side.