I was in a meadow, and it was so beautiful. That was when I had the first realization that this was a dream. Everything was too perfect. The colours of the wild flowers were pastels, all soft yellows, purples and pinks, like a patchwork quilt. The grass was wet with dew and perfectly unkempt, as if it was fashioned to be that way, the willowy trees surrounding it swaying in a light breeze that I didn't yet feel.

There wasn't anything unusual about the scene at all, except for the eerie perfection of it.

A cool breeze ruffled my hair and sent a shiver down my spine. I looked down at the grass between my toes… my bare feet. My eyes slowly took in the outfit I was wearing- an unfamiliar yellow cotton sundress with a white lace trim. The material felt like a warm waterfall against my skin and my legs were perfectly smooth, as if I had shaved them not an hour ago. I felt at peace with the world, as if nothing could go wrong.

I looked across the meadow to find an old fashioned wooden bench, which I had not seen before. I walked over to it and found that suddenly, there was a boy sitting in it. A man. I sat down beside him; if it was a dream, nothing could harm me and I wasn't scared- it felt like the right thing to do. He looked over at me, and my eyes drank in his features as if they were dying of thirst.

His perfectly smooth skin wasn't dark enough to make him black, or Indian, but some kind of native. His black hair was long, in black waves down his back. He was very muscular and lean, and looked to be in his twenties, but I felt as though he was a teenager, even inside his older body. Our eyes met and I almost jumped back out of my seat, they surprised me so much.

They were half crazed, with dark circles under them, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. They were reddish and puffy almost like he'd been crying for a long time, and his breaths were ragged. This man was in pain beyond anything I had experienced, and it was worse. He looked defeated. He was waiting for someone to pull the trigger of the gun pressed to his temple. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no words came out. He just stared at me.

I swallowed, gulped almost, this guy looked suicidal. I ran my hands through my hair, something I did when I was nervous, when I felt something that was definitely wrong: I didn't feel anything.

I was bald, and I kept pressing my cold hands to my scalp, maybe I was crazy, too, but I kept feeling the smooth skin on top of my head, and nothing else. I looked around the meadow for a mirror, or something reflective, to see what I couldn't with only my eyes.

I saw a pond at the edge of the far side, and I ran to it. I ran like I was being chased and knelt down at its edge looking into the water. I was bald, and I couldn't believe what my brain perceived. I was bald, but it went deeper than that- I looked like the man on the bench.

My eyes, too, had dark circles under them and I looked too skinny, as if I hadn't been eating and my cheekbones jutted out in a way they never had before. I started to hyperventilate and cry. I didn't know what was happening, other than the fact that I was sick, maybe dying.

I turned around, only to crash into the man with the crazy eyes. He pulled my into a tight embrace and held me while I cried. After a while, I felt hot tears on my shoulder. There was an intense heat emitting from his skin, and overall, being in his arms felt right.

I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. My eyes snapped open.

****

With no warning, I was taken from the dream, back to reality. I lay in bed, my blankets twisted around my ankles, breathing deeply trying to shake off the dream. There was still a dull, gnawing pain in my abdomen, and I watched my clock until it went away. The dream had scared me; there was a weird sense of a premonition about it. My alarm clock said 5:27, there was no point in going back to sleep now, so I got up to take a long shower. I grabbed my towel, puffy and white, from the cupboard in the hall, tip toeing so not to wake up my mom.

I grabbed my shampoo-conditioner and razor and I started the water and turned it to warm. While lathering my hair, I thought about the dream, but had already forgotten the details. After I finished, I shut off the water and slowly made my way back to my room. I put on the only thing left- a red tee shirt, my black jeans and a denim vest. Everything else was packed. I would be leaving Pickering tomorrow.

Tomorrow, I would be leaving good old Dunbarton High School, where I had spent grade 9 and 10, and going to some reservation in Washington. When I made this announcement a week ago, everybody thought I was kidding: it was such an 'Olivia' thing to do. They laughed again when I told them where I was going. I shouldn't be able to survive at a school in the United States with no sun, no hockey and no music. But I need to spend time with my mom, no matter where it took me. She was leaving Canada because my ass of a dad, who basically fucked his secretary ten minutes before he was supposed to meet my mom for lunch. She caught on when there were seven purple hickeys on his neck and collarbone.

He didn't even look in the mirror before he left for lunch. Poor, clueless bastard. That was a few months ago. We had kicked him out for a while and he was staying with my Uncle, who I had never liked anyway, until we left.

Everything was settled. The house was packed, and all that was left of what we were taking were our beds, and a few of our belongings which we were taking on the plane with us.

I looked in the mirror, feeling relieved that my long curly black hair was still there. I sighed and started to brush it out, fighting with the tangles that were invading my hair. I lined my bright green eyes with a dark purple kohl eye liner, smudging it into my thick black eye lashes, and put mascara on.

Today wouldn't be a work day at school, but a goodbye day. It was November, so it would be weird going to a new school half way through the year, but I would survive. I walked slowly down the stairs, looking at the plain, pale blue walls that used to be filled of my school pictures and family portraits. The house was eerily empty, and had no character.

I went into the silent kitchen, and was surprised at the time: 7:37. I would leave soon; school started at 8:30 and I had to get there early to say goodbye. Looking into the refrigerator, it happened: the pain in my gut. It caught me off guard and I almost fell down, but I wound up clutching the fridge door, panting. It went as quickly as it came and it wasn't like this was the first time: it usually got better as the day went on, if it came at all, so I stood up. It's probably just nerves, so I'll ignore it. I took an apple for later and sat on the clean carpeted floor and lay down.

I just thought about the guy in the dream: his eyes, his face, his hair… the way his body hugged me… the heat…

Bzzzz…Bzz-Bzzzz

My phone vibrated and my eyes shot open. It was a text from Glenn: I can't believe that ur leaving me!! Do u want 2 do lunch and skip the rest of the day with me? 3

I denied, making the excuse that I had to clean out my locker, even though that had been done yesterday. Glenn had been my boyfriend for a while and he was apparently crazy for me, according to my friends. They don't like him, but they put up with him for me. I had never really wanted a boyfriend, but when he asked me out, I was too shocked to say no. I think he knows that I'm going to end things today, and he'll probably try something to save "us" but it isn't working out… I have been working on my speech about that for a while.

I walked out to the garage to grab my bike. Motorcycle, really. I'm the only person I know who rides, and the only person who is allowed to do something so dangerous and stupid. I rode away, to say goodbye to all I had left of my life right now. By the time I got to school, I had forgotten all about the dream, and the weird pain that I was considering seeing a doctor about. What I forgot would very soon turn out to be a colossal problem.

Ok, so here's the first chapter, please R&R!!

I love criticism, so bring it on!!