Summary:
Takes place 10 years after the labyrinth. Even though she thinks she has rid of all her dreams with reality, a friendly (?) surprise makes its way back into her life with nightmares and illusions.

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I do not own any of the Labyrinth characters.
I'm always looking at for a beta reader if interested let me know.
Thank you for reading.

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Prologue: Wake up

One.

I couldn't see the shapes and numbers on the circular clock anymore. Perhaps I had drunk so much, it didn't seem to really matter, and the last ten years of my life seemed to have been a large blur, his face still haunting on my dreams. The only thing he would most likely say, no not say, he would laugh at my current state. My clothing spread on the floor, a stranger clinging to my nude body. I can't even recall the name, Jeff? John? James? It doesn't matter.

Two.

Slipping on my leggings and heels, I don't think I should leave my number, I shouldn't leave anything behind. This stranger means nothing to me. This is just another place to stay the night. This stranger's trashed apartment, disgusting and revolting. He means nothing. 'Nothing. Nothing? Tralala,' yes nothing, of course his voice would appear as I leave this stranger's home.

Three.

Lighting the last cigarette in my purse, I check my messages on my blackberry. Clicking away at the keys, three missed messages from Jen my roommate, two from Dad, ten from Toby. God, when did I start this? The cigarette fumes against my lips, tasting the tobacco to coax my feelings. The street brightened with many colors of lights, the long paved sidewalk seems like miles. The apartment is a ramshackled building, in a shady area I might add. I press the button for Jen to let me in, "Who…is it?" a groggy voice calls. Irritated and slightly buzzed my voice chokes, "Sarah. Jen let me in please." A bitter laugh is on the other end of the intercom, "You're drunk aren't you? Do you realize it's nearly four in the morning?" I groan a 'yes', after pleading.

Four.

Jen doesn't say a word when I walk in just stares at me in distaste, all I can manage is "I'm sorry." Her green eyes look me up and down; in the trashy mess I reek of, and walk back to her room to sleep the last hour she has before work. I place my body on top of the couch, waiting for some miracle, some explanation. Nothing. Again nothing. I want to say those infamous words, 'It's not fair,' I want to say many things, but I can't. My head turns toward the clock on the pale pasted walls; I can finally read the clock, '4:50'.

"Sweet Dreams Sarah,"

The last thing I always here before I go to sleep. The last thing I've heard for the last ten years.

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