(Tis a short chapter, I know.)
……………..
Ange tossed and turned, and moaned lightly in her sleep. She managed to tangle herself in the sheets and to kick her comforter completely off the bed.
Her dream was in a dark, dusty house with no electricity that was located high up in the mountains. The all but one of the windows had no glass and the screens were torn to threads. Tattered sheets hung from the ceiling and the floor boards squeaked; in some places there were wholes the size of a small cat in the floor. Most of the door ways were horizontal slits that she couldn't properly fit through.
She found herself starring at a TV that they could never watch, sitting on a routing couch with moth eaten holes and stains. A prickling sensation crawled up her spine and she jerked her head to the side, peering through the misty darkness. She could hear a faint breathing and the light rustle of cloth and movements. Whatever it was that lurked about the dark house, she knew it meant harm.
Outside, through the single window that held glass, a blurry and dirty window, she could see bodies that lay strewn across the lawn. A small, rickety, shed lay just beyond the bodies, backed up against the fence. The shed looked as if it would collapse in the slightest wind. She turned her view back to the interior of the house, and scanned across the front door, the stair way, hallways, and other rooms. One of those rooms seemed to call her, pull her. She carefully squeezed herself through the horizontal door, that was only a foot high, and entered the room; a room where most of the ceiling was missing. Even though the room was exposed to the elements, it wasn't cold, even for the dead of night. And there were no stars or clouds in the sky. And though rays of moonlight entered the room, there was no moon visible, anywhere.
The only object in the room was a shattered and pieced-back-together mirror. Standing before it, she noticed her plain, grey, stiff cotton jumper and grey slippers. Her hair was a dull brown, which lay straight down, tangled and unbrushed. She had dark bags under eyes and her lips were so pale they looked white. Her eyes were so dark they almost looked black.
She thrust herself backward from the mirror, horrified at the ghastly sight she had become. A noise banged on the walls within the room and she scurried through the door as fast as she could. It caught her right leg before she was completely out of the door and her shoe fell off. She ran from room to room, seeing shadows move every which way. She tripped and scrapped her knee, and wincing she looked up. Storm starred down at her with red eyes, wearing an elaborate, beautiful, wine red gown. She ran outside, hurling herself up and over the bodies that she recognized; her mom, her brother, her highschool crush, her old youth minister from high school, her best friend, and others. She ran towards the gate, looking behind her at the house and the bodies. Not looking back was her mistake, and she ran right into Wolverine. He stood still, red eyes glaring and his arms flexed, claws out. She moved quickly backward and tripped over a body- Jean's. The fall seemed to kill Jean, though she was already dead. Ange's swirled with confusion and fear. She starred into Jean's glazed eyes, horrified that she had killed her, but so curious as to how she had killed her, when she was already dead.
Wolverine barred his teeth and Ange darted passed him as fast as she could. Her arm was in immense pain, gushing blood- one of Wolverine's claws caught her arm as she dashed by. She shook the gate's lock that wouldn't budge as Wolverine slowly made his way towards her. His breath was visible and madness gleamed in his eyes. She panted for her life and threw all of her weight against the gate, wincing at the horrible pain it caused in her left arm. Finally the lock gave way and she threw the gate open. She ran to the other side of the road and starred back at the fence, clutching her arm. All of the X-Men were gathered, as well as some of the students, along the gate, starring with wide red eyes. Painted in the blood of her friends on the back of the shed was written: "No Trespassing." They would not leave the gate to get her; so long as she was no longer there, they didn't seem to care.
Ange sat up in bed, panting hard. She gasped for air and jumped when she heard the wind blow the tree against her window outside. She carefully scanned her room for any intruders, and lay back down, eyes wide open. She went over the dream, part by part, though not in order, trying to figure out what it meant. The only part that she was fairly certain about was the "No Trespassing" sign and the X-Men chasing her out; it meant she wasn't quite sure that she belonged, that she fit in. There hadn't been any instances between herself and the others that made her feel unwelcome; it was simply her own worries and concerns of the new place, a new life.
She went back to bed as best she could and had forgotten the dream completely by morning.