-Scene II-
This isn't coincidence, there's no such thing.
- Brandon Boyd
Coincidence
After a moments silence, I finally managed to open my eyes. They narrowed in on just what I did not want to see, and I instantly began to question my sanity. I looked, dumbstruck, at the scene before me. Surely I couldn't be seeing this right. I shook my head and looked again. My mother's silver picture frame still lay, face down, on the hardwood flooring of the hallway.
I heard a gasp and a sharp intake of breath, the sound filling the room; it took me a second to realise that it was mine. More breaths followed until I finally managed to gain some control, making a conscious effort to slow my breathing down for the second time today. I concentrated on taking slow, steady breaths as the strongest sense of déjà vu hit me like a battering ram. It was exactly like my dream. Identical. Down to the last minute details; the slight wrinkle of the rug near where the picture had landed, and the angle my iPod lay in the mess of shattered glass.
Stop it Alice, I muttered angrily, as I fought to get a grip on myself. I pushed my fringe out of my eyes with my trembling right hand, grabbing a fist full of hair at the back of my head. It couldn't possibly be the same scene I had seen in my dream. It wasn't possible. I tried to reason with myself, I was making far too big a deal out of this. Things were broken all the time, accidents happened. I had smashed things before and didn't react like this. You haven't, however, seen the thing broken before it happened, the taunting little voice in the back of my head reminded me. I told it to shut up.
Timidly, I reached forward to turn the picture frame over, hoping that I wasn't going to see what, deep down, I knew I would. I guess some part of me wanted conformation. My hand started to shake as I got closer to the frame. What was wrong with me? I heard myself gasp again as I tilted the frame up off the ground, revealing the shattered framing glass. It had shattered in the exact places that I'd seen in my dream, a few shards dropped to the floor, landing with startling accuracy. I dredged up the picture from my memory and could almost see the two visions, my dream version and the present version, overlapping. In that moment, my dream and my reality had blurred into one. I dropped the frame in shock, watching intently as it wobbled a few times before stopping still on the floor once more. I knelt, staring at in the middle of the hallway, a thousand emotions shooting through my body. Confusion, doubt, shock, fear...
I felt dizzy, unable to breathe. I had to put both hands, now clenched into fists, the nails digging into my palms, on the floor to steady myself. Why did I stop biting my nails? I asked myself, the pain distracting me from my current 'situation' and giving me something to focus on, instead of keeling over. I forced myself to breathe, taking slow jagged breaths in an attempt to regain enough control to stand. I stared at the frame, frozen in a strange mixture of terror and disbelief.
You're paranoid, I tried to tell myself. It seemed like a better stance than refusing to believe it was real, as I had been doing a few moments ago. There had to be a rational explanation for this. Overactive imagination? I suggested to myself. I certainly had one of those - but that didn't explain why the frame was now broken in the hallway. Perhaps it was some kind of subconscious decision to this, like the power of suggestion. My mind immediately latched onto this theory. It was plausible. Clearly, the realistic quality of my dream had caused me to make it into reality. That had to be it. People just didn't dream the future.
Slowly, I straightened up, never taking my eyes off the mess on the floor. The house was silent again, except for the sound of my heavy breathing and the tick of the hall clock. I found myself breathing in time with the pendulum as it indicated seconds passing. The sound echoed throughout the house.
I didn't know what to think. The most part of me wanted to believe myself, that it was all just a horrible coincidence, but a small nagging voice at the back of my head thought otherwise. I tried to ignore it, but it did so enjoy taunting me. I wasn't crazy. I ignored the fact that I had been talking to myself minutes earlier, not wanting to have any more evidence for being insane. I wanted to belive myself - but something in my mind stopped me from fully accepting the theory. I felt a little sick.
The house began to feel claustrophobic. The panic I was failing to suppress rose in my throat again, my breathing bordering on hyperventilation once more. Without a second thought, I turned on my heels with almost military precision, a full 180 degrees, and left the house, not even stopping to lock the front door on the way out. I doubted anyone would try to burgle the house anyway. I bolted to the sidewalk, stumbling on the last porch step. I refused to allow myself to think of the significance of this.
I felt numb as I walked aimlessly along the street, keeping my mind focused on the task as though I were diffusing a bomb. I tried to block out everything that had happened earlier and concentrated on just walking. In the light of day my panic back at the house seemed silly, but I still couldn't stop the feeling of terror from running through me at random intervals. Perhaps I was going into shock? My eyes were glued to the pavement, flitting up every now and again in an attempt to memorise my surroundings, so I had at least a glimmer of hope of finding my way back home again. I tried not to look like a tourist, but I couldn't help but feel out of place here and slightly on edge. I shook my head slightly, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
The sun was noticeably higher in the sky as I turned onto probably the only shopping area in town. It barely broke through the cloud cover and the sky remained gray overhead. It was depressing. I was used to the sunlight and brightness, not the current gloom that surrounded me. The air was cool and crisp, turning my hands red as they numbed. I shoved them into my pockets, breathing out a little heavier to see the vapour from my breath in the air. I huddled into myself slightly, trying to contain my body heat. My pace quickened as I tried to warm up, trying to look inconspicuous as I still ambled along, going nowhere in particular. I passed a few people on the street, but nobody paid much attention to me. I was satisfied at my ability to blend in.
I stopped outside the supermarket, eyeing it with an almost morbid curiosity. I couldn't believe I actually wanted to look inside. I tried to pass it off as a general interest in my surroundings, but I couldn't fool myself. I knew that I only wanted to go in to see if my dream was right. I hoped I was wrong, the logical part of me was certain I would be, but once again, the nagging part of me suggested if I went inside, I'd be severely disappointed. My legs were moving before I made a decision to do so, and I was walking towards the automatic doors, pausing momentarily as I waited for them to slide open. As I stepped through them, the warmth from the heaters, obviously positioned above the entrance, hit me. I was very grateful for the heat and tentatively removed my hands from my pockets, rubbing them together, hoping that the friction created would rid me of the last traces of numbness, and the tingling feeling the numbness brought with it.
So this is Thriftway, I thought, as I studied the shop to get my bearings. It was the only supermarket in town, so I'd probably become a regular here. I crossed my fingers that they stocked pop tarts. In front of me were rows of stocked shelves and I felt almost silly, I had absolutely no idea what I was planning to do now. I could always ask, but how creepy would that sound if some unknown person came up to you and asked if you stocked stripy woolly hats. Not that I cared what people thought of me, I quickly corrected, I just tended to avoid awkward situations. It wasn't a complete dislike of attention; I just happened to be a firm believer that not all attention was good attention. I hadn't been the most outgoing person at my last school, and that quality seemed to have came with me to the Olympic Peninsula.
I felt as though everyone's eyes were on me as I walked slowly between the rows of shelves, looking for, but hoping I wouldn't find, the scene from my dream. I hope your happy, I thought, mentally chastising whatever warped part of my mind caused me to enter the shop. I was being silly again, just encouraging my mind to play tricks on me. It was like I actually wanted to prove myself crazy. I decided to put the blame on stress; the stress of moving house mid-term and the stress of having to be the new girl at school, and just knowing something was going to go wrong. I could tell, every time I so much as thought about school, I felt sick in my stomach as it twisted and tightened, causing me to almost wince uncomfortably. I really didn't want to go – but seeing as I wanted to a high paid career when I was older, I wasn't quite sure what career, ditching school wasn't an option. It never was an option anyway; my mother would never let me.
In theory, I could blame her for this. If I hadn't been moved to Forks, I wouldn't have been unpacking, so I couldn't have fallen of a stool, so I never would have knocked myself unconscious, so I wouldn't have ended up here, in a supermarket, looking for a display rack of ugly hats. I thought back to a few days ago, when I was still begging her to let me stay in Biloxi, Mississippi. I'd knew that moving me across the country was a terrible idea, that she should just let me stay where I was until I finished high school. That's what I wanted to tell her anyway. I didn't though, I never had the heart to argue with my mother.
I turned onto the final isle at the end of the store, smug that the logical part of my brain had won. I continued to be smug until my eyes fixed on a display that screamed hideous. I stopped. My muscles locked into place and I found myself unable to move. My mind was going haywire, desperately searching for an explanation for the site that was before my eyes. 'ONE DAY SALE' was written in big letters across a basket that contained hats. Rainbow striped hats. The exact same rainbow striped hats I had seen in my dream last night. So how to you plan to explain this, I asked myself. Power of suggestion hardly caused this - I'd never even been to this side of town before. Coincidence, I repeated to myself. Just a freaky coincidence and nothing more.
I decided to pick up some milk, we probably didn't have any in the house, and stood in the queue at the checkout, waiting to pay. I wondered what I would be doing if I was back home. I would probably still be asleep, due to the two hour time difference, but if I was up I definitely wouldn't be freaking out in the middle of a supermarket. I would, at the very least, be warmer. I tugged my sweater down further, wrapping my arms around my waist. It wasn't as if the queue was long, I was just an impatient person. I fought not to tap my foot as I stood still.
All of a sudden, my head began to hurt. It felt like my brain was pounding as I raised my free hand to my forehead. I felt myself burning up, as I noticed the temperature difference between my hand and my head. Something was wrong. My palms started sweating as the store in front of me faded from my eyes. Something was really wrong. Panic rushed through my veins, into every corner of my body. I thought I was fainting, but, instead of my sight turning black, my vision seemed to blur into something else. Something I knew I shouldn't be seeing.
I was outside, on the sidewalk, looking at the junction that I knew was outside the store. I saw a few people near the junction, but nothing of consequence. I didn't feel cold though, not like I was actually outside. I was about to start wondering what was happening to me, when I heard a screeching noise. It was muffled, but I could still make it out clearly. I tried to turn my head in the direction it was coming from, but my vision stayed trained on the crosswalk. I watched as a red car came into view. It swerved, heading for the side of a black van that had taken a wrong turn. I was unable to do anything, and although I wanted to move, or at least turn my head, I couldn't. I was frozen in my place. I could faintly hear the car honking as it got closer. I gasped as the car collided with the van. The sound of glass shattering filled my ears and I still couldn't move. I heard people shouting as smoke began to rise from the bonnet of the car. I tried to look closer, but my vision began to fade. It blurred and faded to black as quickly as it started.
"Hello?" I blinked furiously as my vision returned to normal. My vision refocused and I found myself looking at the woman sitting at the checkout in front of me. I shook my head, confused. I was still in Thriftway?
"Hello dear, are you alright?" The woman asked again. She had a kind expression on her face, and I looked around nervously, wondering how long I'd been standing there. Whatever had happened to me hadn't taken longer than a few seconds. The panic I was feeling before the vision started intensified.
"Fine." I managed, trying not to let any emotion seep into my voice. I stiffly placed the milk on the counter.
"You sure? You like you've just seen a ghost!" She joked. I forced a laugh. I wasn't in the mood to be sociable. I caught a look at my reflection in the window behind her and didn't like what I saw. I looked like a frightened rabbit, caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. I was visibly shaken. This wasn't good at all.
I paid for the milk, desperate to get out of the shop and she moved to pass me the bag she had placed the milk into.
"You new here?" She didn't relinquish her grip on the bag, and I attempted to fix my face into a blank mask. I didn't look into the window to see how successful I was at this.
"Yes," I gave another monosyllabic reply. She smiled at me kindly, but I couldn't quite manage to return one. I pulled at the bag before she could ask another question, and I walked out of the store on autopilot. My mind was swimming, a rational explanation for this one seemed pretty impossible. I welcomed the cool air as I stepped outside, my body temperature seeming to have risen. I took a deep breath. It had to be a daydream, right? A really clear, vivid, daydream.
I heard a loud screeching and I felt my breathing rate increase. I turned just in time to see a bright red car collide, sideways on, with a black van. I jumped as the sound of shattering glass filled my ears. Smoke immediately began to rise from the cars bonnet as I heard shouting from the other people on the street. I watched, frozen, as the side door of the car began to open and people rushed to assist the driver.
I had just seen that happen.
All rational explanations went out of the window.
I was still for a few moments longer, before doing the only thing I could think of.
I ran.
Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Twilight. That's S. Meyer.
A/N: This chapter is a bit blah, but I couldn't exactly the right way to word it. I'll probably come back and edit this later, once I know the characters more.
We're still in the introduction phase of the story. I know, I know, this setting the scene stuff is taking a long time, but I'm really trying to understand what I want Alice's character to be in this story - without her being too OOC. Everything seems to be happening a bit fast, but in my first version of this chapter, the car crash didn't happen and she seemed to be freaking out over nothing. So I decided to make her life a little more confusing. because I'm evil like that.
Don't worry, I have the next couple of chapters mostly written so I'll post them as soon as possible to make up for this pretty suckish chapter. (though after about a dozen edits I like it a bit more now).
Again, I apologise for my use of commas. I really should get a Beta.
Review please?
Ostentatious Querida =]
