I scream into the sky. Something explodes behind me. The tracks of tears on my face pull at my skin, dry from the heat. My heart thumps hard in my chest. I turn. Fire is everywhere, engulfing the city. Flames I have created. I had hoped to burn as well, but the fire can't touch me. I am its master - and its slave.


I wake up sweating. My black-brown hair sticks to my back and face. Tears I didn't know I cried have dried as a crusty, salty mess. I slide my knees slowly to my chest. The dream is the same every night - I haven't slept well in weeks. Time passes as I wait there in the dark, I don't know how long.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

I jump, but it's just the clock. Even so, it's unnerving. I turn and stop the alarm. 5:30. Time to get up. I sigh and step out of bed, leaving the blankets in a crumpled heap. 'I'll make the bed later.' I rummage through the closet for some fresh clothes, take a quick shower, but today, I can't forget my dream. I've memorized it now, every moment.

It's always the same. I'm standing in an alley. I haven't slept in days. I'm angry, frightened... Whoever I am, in this dream, I'm being hunted, hated. The reason becomes obvious when I burn Manhattan to the ground. I shake my head and grab my keys. 'I've lost too much time over this.' I hurry out of the apartment complex and down the steps.

"Up early again, Aislin," says a voice behind me. I look over my shoulder. "No earlier than usual, Rey." He says the same stupid line every morning, but I don't mind. The guy's nearly 80, and nobody ever comes to visit him. I'd do almost anything for conversation if that were me.

"Are you doing all right this morning?" I ask as I walk. "Oh, the same as ever," he replies quietly, like he always does. "Drive safely." He looks vaguely up the street. "Thanks," I say, but he's not listening now. I climb onto my old 10-speed and pedal off to work. By the time I get there, I have a splitting headache from trying to stop thinking so much. I manage to avoid talking to anyone on the way to my workspace, but there's nothing in my desk for the pain.

I curse silently. I'll just have to muscle through. I clear a space at the desk and open my laptop. Twenty minutes later, I'm still staring at the same message on the screen. I lay on the desk. I can't focus. It's not the headache, I've dealt with that problem before. I just can't get that weird dream out of my head today. "It's nothing," I whisper to myself, but it doesn't help this time. It feels too real now. I glance at the clock on my laptop. 7:04, it says. Not even an hour since I got here, but it feels like forever. I sit up and force myself to work.