A/N: Attention, please go back and read the newly improved prologue. Trust me you will not be disappointed. As for this chapter, I've decide to go a different rout with this story. I hope you all enjoy is edit version!
Only happy people have nightmares, from overeating. For those who live a nightmare reality, sleep is a black hole, lost in time, like death. ― Guy Sajer
Entwined Arrows
~One~
A Promise For Another Hell Tomorrow
I have dreams.
Unpleasant, guilt wrenching dreams in which I'm unable to do nothing but watch.
I dream that I'm sitting in an old abandon theater, strapped to a worn out, foul smelling seat (I don't bother to struggle since it has never been useful in the past), watching the big screen before me. The room is pitch-black and it's eerily silent, but suddenly a stream of light shoots out from behind me. In a matter of seconds, the film opens with Super 8 footage showing a teenage boy leaning precariously over a boat's railing with his back turned. He's breathing rapidly. An incoherent, faint shout causes the boy to whirl around in time to see a teenage girl storm up to him. A teenage girl who looks familiar, yet I refrain from trying to identify her. I'm unable to see pass the blurriness of their faces, but their postures give away their angrier.
The argument escalates into louder shouts and screams, which I only hear as static. I know I should know what they are saying, but a foreboding feeling scares me into remaining oblivious. The blood drains from my face and a cold shiver runs down my spine as the film skips to the boy alone again—this where hopeless urgency and terror threats to consume me whole.
The boy unexpectedly looks over his shoulder, straight at me. He waves good-bye before he jumps over the railing to his death. A strangled, horrified scream slices through the silence. I'm a trembling, disheveled mess.
With my heart beating rapidly like the wings of a humming bird, my eyelids snap open, revealing aghast aquamarine eyes. I quickly scramble into a fetal position, taking deep, exaggerated breathes to calm the erratic pulsing beneath my skin. As I raise a hand to brush away a damp auburn brown lock from my clammy forehead, I realize I'm shaking. In an attempt to regain control, I squeeze my eyes shut and take a final, deep breathe.
Images of my nightmare collide against me, taunting me, reminding me that it's all not just random images created by my over-imaginative mind.
They're memories.
~.~.~
With my nerves finally under control, I squint through the dim room to find that my little episode had not woken up my best friend. I sigh in relief just as I shrug on a worn out Wonder Woman tee and blue short shorts.
No more sleeping for me, I think bitterly.
It's around dawn when I manage to sneak discreetly out of the vacation home that seems more like a jail cell. A thick blanket of gray fog envelops the sleeping town's streets as I trudge on miserably.
I think nothing about the bizarre weather. Instead, I focus on just breathing and walking. But, of course, I should mention that it's a futile attempt because the nightmare—uh… memories—comes back with vengeance, and I'm forced to recall.
The day I had turned fourteen had been the year he, my other half, disappeared without a trace—a vacation cruise through the Caribbean gone horribly wrong. A vacation cruise in which harsh, hurtful words were exchanged.
Two of the speculations proposed by the officials: kidnapped, lost at sea. One year of searching the whole globe for him had brought no closure.
It was around the year I'd turned fifteen that the search had been dropped by our private investigator. A search, according to him, that had been pointless. "It's as if he has vanished off the face of Earth," he had said. A sentence that had put a huge strain on my parents' marriage and my relationship with them.
I snap out of my reverie to find myself now walking aimlessly through the ivory-colored sand of Assateague beach. The soothing sound of the waves moving put my nerves to rest for now, despite the lack of light due to the fog. In a way, I feel that the sea is my only connection to him.
I take a sit, playing absentmindedly with the sand. I also take comfort in the presence of a small herd of Assateague ponies roaming the beach nearby.
It's terrifying and infuriating to think that just one meaningless word can alter everything. How that alteration can influence your life, your very being, and the ones around you...
Drugs, I think harshly. Drugs stole something from me.
I clench a fist tightly, ignoring the way my knuckles protest from the pressure. Amidst the thick fog, I allow myself to break down, to allow the tide of grief to devour me.
~.~.~
"Ann? Ann, there you are," the familiar voice of my best friend Karen Ramirez shouts, pulling me back to reality.
I blink slowly, turning my still dazed eyes to meet her annoyed big nut-brown ones. I wait to be reprimanded, but, instead, she plops down beside me, leaning against my side.
After a few more minutes of silence, I speak in a hollow voice. "Where's Doug?"
"He's asleep since its still seven o'clock in the morning," she says dismissively.
"Hmm," I murmur vaguely, eyes glued on the rushing clear blue waves. "How did you find me?"
"Gee, I don't know… Maybe it has to do with how frequent you have been coming here this week, and at such strange hours, too. Don't think I haven't noticed," she remarks, disapproval and concern seeping into her voice. "What's going on, Ann?"
"Nothing," I pause when Karen aims a look of doubt at me, "I've just been having trouble sleeping lately." I decide to say the partial truth as to diminish some of her doubt.
She sighs, shaking her head sadly. I curse inwardly when I remember how perceptive Karen is.
"Y'know," she says conversationally, "I didn't drag you—kicking and screaming if I remember correctly—here so that you could wallow in remorse and self piety."
I say nothing in response as I continue to stare out into the ocean. Today marks two years; two years in which drugs stole something from me.
"Annie, you can't keep doing this," Karen says in a tired tone of that of a single mother. "It's not healthy."
My eyes flash in her direction, angrier invading my face. "The hell I can't."
She sighs again, suddenly looking ten years older. "I don't want to fight with you, Ann."
I clamber to my feet, towering over her, eyes narrowed to slits. "Then don't. Do me a huge favor, Karen. Go away. I don't need your fucking sympathy," I hiss.
I turn to walk away when a hand grabs hold of my shoulder. My back stiffens as I look back to see Karen glowering at me, hands on hips, and that's when I realize she's not going to let this go.
I groan in frustration, taking deep breathes. "Don't you realize that I wish to be alone? Do I have to say it in Spanish? Deseo estar sola!"
"I can't do that, Ann."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because," she hesitates briefly before continuing angrily, "because… I just can't, okay?!"
I shake my head in disbelief, scowling darkly. Spinning sharply on my heel, I stalk away from her. I'm a few yards away when she shouts after me.
"You weren't the only one who lost something that day, Ann. We all did—Doug, your parents, and me. He was my best friend, too." Karen voice falters, agony and sorrow evident in her tone.
My heart clenches painfully at her words, and a jolt of discomfort pierces my stomach. My feet automatically speed up to a brisk jog.
You weren't the only one who lost something that day, Karen's voice echoes repeatedly in my head. He was my best friend, too.
I shake my head to rid myself of those words that burn against my brain like acidic rain, but no avail. Again they echo like a broken record, leaving a bitter after taste in my mouth, trying to entrench themselves into my head.
Suddenly, my feet brake into a full out sprint, carrying me swiftly across the beach. My feet pound on the sand and my arms pump at my sides, driving me faster. Sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fall, but those slight delays only fuel my desire, my desire to get away from here.
I run away from the all the excruciating memories.
My lungs begin to protest.
I run away from Karen's unwanted piety.
My left side begins to cramp.
I run away from my parents' poor attempt to distract me.
My heartbeat rings in my ears.
I run for all I'm worth, paying no attention to my surroundings that have turned into a big blur.
All I know is that I need to escape from this cold, hard reality. I need to escape because nothing feels right anymore. This isn't me. I know it! I'm not this miserable shell that's left of a girl.
What is there in life but a promise for another hell tomorrow? Maybe, just maybe, you have to lose yourself before you find yourself.
A/N: I just wanted to clarify something quick. Ann's full name is Annelise, but she prefers to go by Ann. As for Annie, it's a name that only her close friends and parents use.
