Chapter 2
Today was hell. I got so many homework assignments, but it was only 4 period! Now it was my most boring class, science. I had Mrs. O'Grady, a nice, but boring lady who moved here from Ireland four years ago.
"Take yer textbooks out, lads and lasses! We got some more readin' ta do. Now flip on to chapter five and read til chapter 7!" she said in the outrageous accent of hers.
But I was bored already. I felt my eyelids getting heavier, and my head drifting down. I was so tired, and I just wanted to close my eyes for a second. I let them shut and laid my head on my desk...
This time I was in the body of someone I didn't know the identity of. Then, something surprised me more than anything. It was me, but I was looking at her. Or me. Or whatever. Then the person I was in, tried to grab my or her arm as she or I was trying to leave the cafeteria. It was decorated just like the other times we had a dance at our school. I or Not-really-me-Cindy raced out, and I was desperately trying to catch up.
Now we were in the park, Not-really-me-Cindy was talking to me, and I was yelling at her. I stormed off, then--- There was a sharp pain right between my shoulder blades. I tried to see who had hit me, but I only managed to glimpse at that person. And it turned out that that person had stabbed me. Not-really-me-Cindy cradled my head as things grew dark around me---
Someone was shaking me awake, and I jerked my head up, crashing into the face of Jimmy. I felt the familiar feeling of blood rising up in my throat. But before I could reach the door, I coughed up a liberal amount of the crimson liquid. It splashed on the floor. I saw Jimmy, cradling his nose, staring at me. Everyone was staring at me.
I was sitting in the principal's office, keeping my head low as my mother conversed angrily with the sweaty old man known as Mr.Wiloughby.
"Do you really think my daughter is on drugs?" screeched Sasha.
Mr. Wiloughby cringed and muttered something no one could hear.
"What?"
"W-Well, I was just hoping for you to get Cindy checked out by your family doctor..."
Sasha glared at him before taking my hand and dragging me out of his office roughly. I glanced up at her, waiting for her to speak as she led us to her car. She slammed the doors open and closed, got in, turned over the engine, switched to drive, and drove out of the school parking lot before saying anything.
"We're going to go see Dr. Phillips."
I gaped at her and protested. "Why? I don't need to! Mom!"
"We're going, and that's final."
I grumbled and groaned before turning my back to her, looking out the window as I recalled the contents of my chilling dream.
The dance... Seeing me... The park, arguing with myself... Getting stabbed... Who was I in the dream? And who stabbed that person?
I rubbed my temples, trying desperately to get the feeling of the headache to leave before I got a huge migraine.
I watched the old receptionist pick up the phone for the fifth time to call one of her friends.
"Yeah, Tonya? I won't be able to make it today, Dr. Phillips has me working a double shift."
I watched her scowl again as she told another one of her girlfriends how unfair her employer was. Then the conversation switched to a different topic.
"Have you seen Dr. Phillips's brother? Yeah. Oh yeah! I would love to lick whipped cream off of his banana!"
I cringed, disgusted at the topic of which the receptionist and her friend was discussing.
"Vortex, Cynthia? Dr. Phillips will see you now."
I saw my mother nod curtly before dragging me into the check-up room. A few moments later, the doctor walked in the door hurriedly, as if he was going to be late for his afternoon tee-off.
"So. What seems to be the problem here?"
I looked at the floor and tried to connect the white dots which speckled the ugly green color of the tile.
"Cynthia?" asked Dr. Phillips.
I brought my head up slowly, not caring if I was going to make him late in golfing with his other doctor buddies.
"What seems to be the problem?" he repeated.
I shrugged and went back to studying the flooring. I heard Sasha explain.
"She has these nightmares, and she wakes up really sweaty, and coughing up blood. What do you think that is, doctor?"
Dr. Phillips stroked his chin thoughtfully before shaking his head.
"It appears this problem is not what I deal with. Please, go to this psychiatrist and have your daughter checked out."
He wrote a name on a scrap of paper and handed it to my mother. She looked at me with disgust and led me back to the car.
"We'll go see that psychatrist later."
I groaned silently, dreading the moment that it would be.
"But I really don't need to! And have you seen any of the medical prices? Especially for psychatrists? You haven't? Well, they're not exactly cheap. Besides, this isn't something a good weeks rest in bed won't cure!"
I tried to read her expression as she digested my argument. After four agonizing minutes, she finally spoke.
"Well, alright. But just this one time. And if you don't get better soon, we're marching straight to that psychiatrist, expensive or not, young lady!"
I cheered in my mind, hoping that in a week, that the nightmares would go away. But a thought kept nagging at me in the back of my mind.
'What if the nightmares are premonitions or something? What if someone dies? What if I'm supposed to stop it? And the dream said I have until the sixth minute of the six hour of the six day... What if...'
I shook my head, just glad that I wasn't going to the psychiatrist today.
"I'll just check what the date is today at home..."
But the thought kept coming back and back. This time, i couldn't shake off the foreboding feeling.
"Gosh... It's going to be fine, Cindy," I said in desperation to calm myself.
"What?"
I turned around and looked at my mother.
"Uh... Huh?"
"What'd you say? I thought I heard something from you."
I shook my head and mumbled, "I didn't say anything, Mom."
She shrugged and looked straight back at the road. I stared straight back out the window.
'Are they really premonitions?'
A/N: Well then, kiddies, what do you think will happen next?
Review, and constructive criticism is always welcomed!