Not much to say. Here's the next chapter, thanks for the reviews (I appreciate them lots!), and all I own is the plot, and all the creepy people I keep putting in Logan's dreams.

That night, as I lay staring at the ceiling, I could feel something. It wasn't one of those feelings where someone's watching you; it was more like when you can feel someone near you, but you can't see them. The dust or darkness or whatever, was out there, taunting me.

I rolled over restlessly. Even stargazing couldn't take my mind off my problems tonight. Instead, I concentrated on Kendall's steady breathing coming from the other side of the room. It managed to take my mind off that unsettling feeling and lulled me to sleep.

Elsewhere

Logan was back. Back in that world of gray stone and black skies. The wind whipped around him, sending sharp shards stinging against his exposed arms. The dust seemed to wheel gleefully across the land, changing course erratically. The wind didn't direct the dust, Logan realized, the dust directed the wind. It pulled the air behind it as it flowed across the ground.

At present, the cliffs were empty, no people and, thankfully, no Carlos. Then everything shifted slightly, there was a light jerk as everything seemed to click into place. Logan blinked, and everything had changed.

It was the same scene from the night before, with one difference. The rocky area he was standing on now was no longer flat, but a raised plateau, that allowed one to see the landscape spread out for miles below. Maybe the sky came down closer last time, or maybe this world had the ability to change at will. He didn't know. He only knew that, where once there was darkness, was now a gray expanse that looked just as inhospitable as the plateau he currently resided on.

He brought his attention back to the scene in front of him. Carlos stood again, in the middle of the plateau, expressionless. His eyes had already disintegrated. The crowd of onlookers still regarded him with expressions of judgment, as if he was a criminal receiving punishment. One in particular caught Logan's attention, a red haired woman, with a look of utter contempt on her features. She wore a dark purple shirt, under a tight black jacket, black skinny jeans, and black, knee-high boots. If she hadn't been scowling so sternly, she would have been beautiful.

Logan tried to take a step towards his friend, but the darkness had twined itself around his ankles without his noticing. He flailed for a second before falling to his knees. "Carlos!" he called instead, praying that his friend would acknowledge him this time. "Carlos please!"

Logan gasped. A grayness, the same shade as the surrounding stone, was spreading from Carlos' fingertips up his arms. The grayness advanced up his arms, spreading up and down his torso. His fingers began crumbling. Logan shook his head, trying to deny his eyes, horror building in him. Carlos' arms crumbled, picked up by the ever present dust. His legs fell next, but the rest of his body didn't move. His torso was slowly eaten away, leaving only his eyeless face, which disappeared bit by bit. His mouth, which should have been stretched in a grin, was the last piece left, before he was gone.

Reality

I fell out of bed with a thump. I sucked in a breath, panting. My face was bathed in sweat. Lurching to my feet, I left the room, hoping I didn't make too much noise. I got to the bathroom in time to lose all the popcorn I'd eaten, although it really didn't look like popcorn anymore. What was wrong with me? What was happening? Why did I keep watching my friend die?

Carlos wasn't Carlos in my dreams. He wasn't the boy I'd met on the first day of my new school. That Carlos had been fun and full of life.

On my first day of sixth grade, I was a nervous wreck. I'd just moved to town, and school had already been in session for three months. That was just enough time for cliques to form and for new people to be excluded. I'd walked into the cafeteria, already worrying about where I was going to sit, and the next thing I knew I'd somehow managed to trip over my own feet and dump my water bottle all over myself, all over the front of my pants to be exact. I stood there mortified. I fully expected someone to jump up, point, and yell something that would forever brand me as an outcast, but when I looked up my eyes met the brown ones of a Hispanic boy just exiting the lunch line. His tray was piled high with food.

His eyes locked on mine, emanating shock. I braced myself for the worst, but it never came. Instead I heard a wild war cry and the boy ran and threw himself on the ground, on top of his lunch. He slid five feet across the floor, before hopping up grinning. He was covered in Sloppy Joe and tater tots. Everyone in the cafeteria was staring at him, openmouthed. He just grinned and waved.

His eyes met mine. I was still standing in the same place, unable to move, and he mouthed, "Go, go."

I finally understood and took off for a bathroom I'd seen just outside. Just as I was leaving, laughter erupted, and I felt a stab of pity for the boy, but then I realized they weren't laughing at him. He was laughing right along with him. He wasn't even bothered by the fact that he'd just embarrassed himself in front of half the student body.

I'd just finished cleaning myself up, when the door opened, and the boy from before bounded in. He grinned infectiously at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. "Thanks," I said.

"No problem, dude. I'm Carlos." He held out his hand.

"I'm Logan."

"Want to have lunch with me?"

"Sure, I'd love to."

That was the Carlos that should have been in my dreams: the one that loved to pull crazy stunts and then just laughed it off when everyone looked at him like he was nuts. I wanted to dream about that Carlos. I wanted to stop seeing that place. Gray was rapidly becoming my least favorite color.

I got up off my stiff knees and moved to the sink. I splashed some water on my face still thinking about my nightmares. Anything would be better than seeing them again, I thought miserably.

"Are you sure about that?" I jumped at the sound of a voice. Looking up into the mirror, I threw myself back, heart beating forcefully. My reflection wasn't staring back at me. It was the woman with the red hair.

She looked at me expectantly and smiled slowly. Her brown eyes widened imperceptibly. "Don't be too sure that that is the worst that could happen," and then she was gone.

I slid down the bathroom wall, coming to rest with my arms wrapped around my knees. I was shaking uncontrollably. My breaths stuttered in and out. What was going on? Was I losing it? Could all this be a figment of my imagination?

I don't know how long I sat on the bathroom floor letting my thoughts chase each other round and round my head. I was having trouble separating dreams from reality, but they just seemed so real. Maybe I was stressed out. Stress could trigger nightmares and hallucinations. It didn't explain the weird happenings in the bedroom, but the light could've been a fluke, a random short in the electrical system, and the back draft created by the air conditioner could explain the other things, sort of.

Semi-satisfied with this conclusion, I finally left the bathroom. At least it didn't make me sound insane. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I figured I'd go watch cartoons or something. Walking down the hallway, I noticed an odd smell. It reminded me of rain on hot concrete.

Turning the corner into the living room, I had another mental breakdown. The woman was standing between me and the couch. It was almost surprising how normal she looked. I mean she looked normal in the dream, but seeing it in the real world just seemed wrong. She had that same expectant smile on her face. "Surprised to see me?" She asked conversationally.

"You-I," I took a deep breath. "You aren't real. This is all some massive hallucination caused by the stress of living and performing in L.A."

She smirked, "Oh, Logie, you're so naïve. Of course this is real. Just because you don't want it to be, doesn't mean that it isn't."

I just stared at her, wishing that she would disappear, or clap her hands and laugh proclaiming this was all a big hoax. "Please, this can't be real. Things like this just don't happen. It's impossible." I hated the almost whiny quality my voice had taken on.

She shrugged, "Maybe here it is, but not elsewhere. It's such a shame, though."

I didn't want to ask, "What is?"

"That they picked you and your friends. I actually kind of like you boys. Oh well, I'm sorry Logan. You have to know this is real. This will serve to convince you and also serve my other purpose." She started walking towards me.

I wanted to back up, but her brown eyes held me in place. She reached me and grasped my wrist. Her slender fingers wrapped all the way around. I gasped. A searing pain came from where her skin touched mine. It felt as if a thousand tiny needles were assaulting my wrist. She pulled away, a pleased expression on her face. "Now you can stop deluding yourself."

I examined my wrist. It didn't look any different, maybe a little darker where she'd touched me. I tentatively pressed a finger to it, but didn't feel any pain. Instead, it felt as if I had sand under my skin. As if minute shards of something… No. She hadn't. A picture of the dust blowing across the cliffs flitted through my mind. She hadn't put that stuff inside me, had she? Oh god, I hoped not.

I looked back up, intending to confront her, but saw only an empty room.

There it is, my usual cliffhanger. I should think you'd all be used to them by now. ;) Next chapter will be up tomorrow. Reviews=undying love, and possibly a cookie... whichever you'd prefer.