A/N: Hi again... I couldn't wait till Tuesday to publish this, so here it is!

A lot of people in my life are being downright awful right now...Let me curl up in a ball and die. Honestly.

Yeah. Sooooo tired.

Hope you like the story. It's a trial chapter atm, to see if you guys like it. If you do, drop a review in my letterbox and lemme know if I should make another! I have another one possibly going up soon, and when I don't have the workload of Satan, I'll let you know I'm still a tormented soul by posting another chapter.

Caitlin's POV

I'm standing in a ring of fire.

There's liquid underneath - oil. There's no source of oil nearby - no canister or anything.

Therefore, someone's set this fire. The smell is weird- sweet, yet mixed with chemicals. So basically any gift shop in any hospital.

The flames are too high for me to jump dance and sing, happy, yet warlike.

There are shadows and randoms snarls of animals mixing with the small crackle of animals.

The thudding music in the background makes it hard to think. It's a tribal kind of music, a wild beat that lifts the boundaries.

I have a torch in my left hand. It's about as long as a brand-new pencil, and its made of diamond, or crystal - I don't know, I'm not an expert on types of precious stones.

The weird thing about it is that it's glowing erratically, shifting and changing colours.

The colours remind me of things.

Being pushed on the swings as a five-year old. With a red and pink colour scheme, I was already the most organised kid on the playground. I could already dress myself and put my shoes on, read basic english, but I did have some trouble with my hair, which was a darker brown when I was little.

Baking a cake with my mother - we both wore Christmas cracker crowns (mine was green and hers was yellow, to match her dark blonde hair that I did not inherit but wish I did on occasion) - the cake was crappy, but we had such a blast making it, that we didn't care. But then again, nobody complained when Dad got a supermarket one.

Reading my favourite book for the first time. The Secret Garden was my favourite as a kid, and I still read it on occasion.

The tribal music intensifies.

Some unseen person chants in a foreign language.

The shadows sway on the walls, out for blood.

The music gets faster and faster, more quick-paced and quick-paced that I don't think I can breathe.

Then someone yells "FOUR. FOUR. FOUR!"

And then I wake up to the sound of my sweet alarm.

I roll over, trying to put the disturbing dream out of my mind.

I used to never have nightmares, but they'd started two weeks ago today.

They were always horrible situations involving fire and a number.

I shiver and rub my arm, the one with the words on it.

I press the off switch on the alarm, cutting off the cheap black plastic mid-screech, then rub my eyes and stretch out on the cold, empty bed.

Ronnie had already gone to work. He worked as a relatively well-paid plumber.

Ronnie was my soulmate.

He'd came in eating a bag of hot peppers whilst doing a job for my bathroom and he said something to the same degree of what was on my arm. It wasn't the first thing he'd ever said to me, but I guess what with all these things being passed down through th generations, things could get lost and become confused.

So of course, he was my soulmate.

I guess you don't always get along with your soulmate though.

We fight, like, all the time.

I get mad at something bad he's done, and then he swoops in and says the thing that always ends the argument, with a kiss, "I'm your soulmate, remember?"

I could never see his words. He wouldn't let me.

Mine, he could read anytime he wanted. They were on my arm. His was on his back, something I knew after I'd walked in on him having a shower.

(No, I've never had- sexual relations -with him. I was waiting till we got married.)

Anyway. Today was an ordinary day. I locked up the house at 7:35, as per usual, and then went to Jitters at 7:40.

They were apparently having a costume party for their opening anniversary (for people over eighteen), in four days, so I pocketed a flyer whilst I was in line.

I came into work at 7:50 (with a bagel and coffee in my hand, as it was a Tuesday) and then sat down for work.

I got up to have my lunch break and finish my planner for the week.

I include the flyer, taking a picture of the crumpled piece of paper and transferring it onto the app on my tablet.

I then spent the rest of my break thinking of what I was going to be for the party.

I'd talk Ronnie into it at the end of today. He probably wouldn't require much persuasion, he lived for parties.

I go back to my desk, shelving the party into the section of my brain that dealt with stuff outside of work.

A/N: Let me know what you think. I literally only act like someone else to hide my shy actual persona, so let my sad antisocial part of me know if you guys actually like me! I'm a very clueless person IRL and I will not know anything unless you spell it out for me.