The mist of the morning was milky and white and dim, and the air in my room was cool and light. I slowly lifted my eyelids and faded into consciousness, while I felt a yawn push itself out of my chest as I propped myself up on one elbow. The warm, beige color on my bedroom wall was a field of wheat, swaying back and forth, and I rubbed my eyes, trying to eliminate the dizziness when I remembered everything in a rush. The car accident... the break-up... the traveling... Leland's kindness... It all gave me a headache, and so I decided to head downstairs and pour myself some cereal, the ultimate aid in alleviating all my stress.

Walking downstairs, I smelled something different about the house... There was a certain warmth in the air, and the unfamiliar scent of eggs and ham wafted into my nostrils.

Eggs and ham? I thought.

Skipping the last two bottom steps of the stairs, I swung around into the kitchen and saw something incredibly alarming. My mom.

"Mom!" I said cheerfully. "Wha-what are you doing here?"

"What, you don't want your good ole mom here in the mornings?" She said mock hurt.

"No! It's just that, well, you're never here! What's going on?" I asked, shifting my weight over to one foot and cocking my head to one side.

"Well, I realized that I hadn't taken any sick days off in nearly two years," she began, "and, since my daughter's going through so much lately, not to mention it's the end of your school year, I decided that... I actually wanted to spend a little time with you, honey." She said sweetly, pinching my cheek and kissing it.

While I should have been annoyed by this motion, I had actually savored the moment. My mom and I rarely have time together, leaving little opportunity for us to exchange any kind of basic interaction. Sometimes, it seems as if we'd become two strangers sharing a roof, only connected by the simple fact that I'm her daughter and she's my mother. I smiled gently, hugging her swiftly and running over to the stove.

"Mm, omelets… ham… hash browns… English muffins?! Wow, Mom, you really went all out…" I said gratefully, my saliva glands working overtime.

"Food's ready, hon." She said, pulling out some green plates and setting them on the counter.

We said a quick prayer and dished out the food. Eating what my mother cooked was a treat. The sweet and salty, soft and crunchy, warm and delicious compilation of the chow seemed like an overwhelming wake-up call. All my senses seemed to be set off, like I'd been living my life in gray scale and suddenly I was in Technicolor. I hadn't had such food in over a year, seeming to always retreat to the basic military food I'd exiled myself to, never really getting the good food from a mom's hand. I finished in a flash, sucking down my food in a totally unflattering way; I wouldn't want anyone to know I ate like this when I was as hungry as a rabid dog (well, except for Cassie. I didn't really care if she knew.)

My mom quietly excused herself after finishing her food, after her Blackberry tinkled quietly upstairs. She made a little half-run half-walk up the steps, her footsteps finally receding into silence.

I glanced at the microwave clock, seeing the green letters glow 12:02 PM. I strolled over into the living room, across and through an archway from the kitchen, and plopped down on the fluffy, brown couch that sat in front of the TV.

The sun in the window poured angelically into the large living room, onto the stony tile floor, creating a river of light below my feet. The scene and the colors of the living room reminded me of old castles in Spain or Italy, the house seeming to hold a history stretching back thousands of years, the tile floor creating the illusion of a foreign country. I watched as the glass of the window altered the shape of the light, twisting, turning, morphing it into different, alien-like shapes, the luminosity dancing to a silent song that floated through the room.

I laid my head back on the left arm of the couch, letting my thoughts take their proper place, and begin to flutter restlessly about in the confines of my skull. I let my body relax against the calm setting of afternoon, letting the couch engulf me until I was inside my mind, walking around in the hallway of my mind...

I opened a large, old, red door, chipped at the edges. It was surrounded by black darkness, and it seemed to warp and grow in my peripheral, but return to a proper shape when I looked at the edges directly. I turned the rusted knob and was horrified to see a large van, burning in the middle of a large, black room. Fire was snaking around the metal parts of the mass while large, gray billows of smoke rose up, up, up and out of sight, melding into the backdrop of the room. I walked closer to the burning scene, looking for a missing part. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but I knew something was missing… if only it would reveal itself…

As soon as the thought passed through my mind, I suddenly heard faint, tapping footsteps surface from behind the quiet noise of the burning fire. I looked feverishly around me, when I suddenly saw a foot come from behind the van, followed by a slender leg, clothed in some black, faded jeans and a red shirt with spots of white at the shoulders. I lifted my eyes to the face of this individual and thought my very chest was caving in as my breathing accelerated. I heard a gasp fill the room. It was my own.

The small, innocent face of the teenage boy I saw lying limp in the mass of destruction was connected to this slight body. His hair was unusually clean and shiny brown and his face was smooth and slightly tanned. He looked clean and untouched. The red of his shirt seemed to reflect pink in his face.

Why was he here? How was he… alive?

My mind flashed agitatedly from thought to thought, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Suddenly, the heat of the car was affecting me, making my face and neck uncomfortably hot. Suddenly, a dry, even voice filled the room, over the cackle of the fire, clear as a bell.

"I'm dead now, you know. Why didn't you save me?" His face was etched with perceptible anger, suddenly, and his body was betraying the emotion of… disappointment? Letdown?

Words never came to me as I choked on my speech; a sudden, irrational feeling of guilt overtook me. Why didn't I save him? "I-I…"

"Hmm?" He continued, his words seeming to chip away at my chest. "Why didn't your little boyfriend save me? You know he could've done it… you know it… you know it…" His words faded into oblivion as he suddenly began to scream, his hands covered in a deep, red liquid.

His shirt was originally white.

I shot straight up. I woke to a sticky dampness, sweat, on my back and neck, dim living room, the TV going quietly. The house was quiet, but not still.

I heard light footsteps upstairs, a muffled creaking of an opening door, and a latch clicking shut. Mom was still here.

As I sat up, I rubbed the back of my neck absently, only to be left with a damp palm coated with a film of sweat. How long was I asleep? I thought worriedly.

I walked slowly over to the kitchen, the cool, stony texture of tile beneath my feet a refreshing feeling. I squinted at the clock, then felt my eyes widen involuntarily. 6:34 PM? I moaned internally.

How… how could that be? I was shocked and displeased at how long I'd slept, immediately thinking about all the other things I could've done with my time…

But I wouldn't think about that then. I slowly traveled the length of the pathway from the kitchen island to the landing of the staircase, delicately planting my feet on the lush carpet of the stairs and walking slothfully up the spiraling road, awaiting the soft, cool and appropriate feel of my bed, versus the awkward way I had laid in on the sofa. The increasing stiffness in my neck was proof of that.

I knew that the dream wouldn't leave me. I just had that feeling... it was something I would, unfortunately, never forget. The black, the red, the heat of the dream all felt so real, in a way that was shockingly unpleasant.

I opened my bedroom door at the end of dark hallway, fumbling with the knob before taking a few Bigfoot-like steps and falling face-first into the bed, savoring the coolness and sweet, sweet relaxation kicking in, muting all of my senses. I was unusually tired, and even though i had just slept for about six hours, the dream was very exhausting, causing me to drift into drowsiness with unusual ease.

I let my mind wind down, allowing my eyes roll back underneath my eyelids, while I saw infinitesimal geometric shapes swirl and twirl and grow in my blind vision, until they enticed me into an alien sleep, a trance I'd missed for what seemed like eternity. Dreams never came to me that night.

Once morning arrived, it was then that I only just realized that school was over. I was getting up, brushing my teeth, grabbing my book bag when it hit me: I wouldn't be seeing the inside of that school until I was a senior.

A senior.

The sound of the word reverberated in my mind until it highly resembled the word doom.

My mind wandered over the last few depressing days of my junior year… the shocking discovery of Avery's clandestine relationship with this mystery woman. I wondered how long it would've gone on, had I not found them out…

An unfamiliar bile rose in my throat, as my face began to heat up impenetrable anger when I pondered longer over the situation.

The angel on my shoulder tried, quite weakly, to console my growing resentment, as the devil egged me on, telling me I had the right to be angry.

I sighed, stopping myself in the middle of my thoughts, not wanting to further disappoint myself.

I looked to lighter things, and it was amazing that there were any left. I looked at my once opposing acquaintance with Leland, now developing into new found amity. What's to become of this new jewel dug up from the rough? I thought.

Setting my book bag idly down on high chair at the island and removing my cardigan and flats, I sauntered over to the living room, filled with beige, morning light, sand sat down on the sofa once again. I shivered as the texture of the couch beneath brought memory of the nightmare back to me.

I ran my hands through my chaotic hair and pushed open my laptop that sat lonely on the coffee table. I turned it on, hearing the fan hum its unmusical tune. The little melody cheeped innocently as the computer started up. I quickly jabbed in my password and the screen changed to a black and white picture of a large tree, stretching up and up, beyond what the desktop could reveal. I sighed once; double-clicking the Safari icon and watching it explode on the screen.

Typing in Gmail on the little white bar, I sat and watched as it loaded swiftly and my e-mail popped in. I got a few messages from Books & Lattes, notifying me of some new sales and deals. After deleting those from my inbox, I checked for any new messages from Cassie, but found none.

Zero.

It was odd that she was choosing to stay silent for the last remaining days she had in Spain. Usually, we'd e-mail each other at least once a month, sending each other the latest news and unbosoming concerning our lives. It seemed as if we were on different planets, a manifesting chasm forming rapidly between us, even though she was just 3,000 miles away. I had e-mailed her the news on my break-up with Avery and had still heard nothing from her.

I guess she's just extra busy with packing and saying bye to her friends… I thought, trying weakly to console my worry. Something, just underneath the surface, though, was disturbing me. It felt as if… something wasn't right. But I was sure it was my imagination, so I ignored my intuition and continued scrolling down the cornfield of e-mails that still went unanswered.

Then, suddenly, I noticed a message with no pictures, no hyperlinks, and it was from an unknown sender. I opened the message from MotherMan276.

Hello, there. I have something you want, something you need. If you want it, you'll have to reply to this message and I'll change your life. Forever. Well, goodbye. For now.

Signed,

MotherMan276

Ugh. Stupid spammers, they have no life. I quickly exited the e-mail and went over my papers again, looking at my completed work from the past. I sighed into my hands and laid back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling and wondering how my life had become so chaotic.

Out of the blue, I remembered it was Thursday, which meant I had work today. It was 2:00 PM.

I decided I would come in early.

I ran upstairs, entering my room and changing quickly from my school outfit to my work uniform, black skinny jeans and blue work polo.

I texted my mom, telling her I was at work, and strolled over to the car in the driveway, lowering myself in and driving towards my destination.

I watched the road with an unbreakable concentration, slowing down immediately after each light turned yellow, noticing every line in the road, remembering to put on my turn signal every time I turned. I stopped at the end of the long, dirt road when I realized what I was seeing i the distance. Yellow tape, pick-up trucks, people standing around in a tense circle, discussing something of great importance…

I totally forgot.

After the accident, the crash had left complete destruction to the front side of the store, leaving more money for Chris to have to pay for repair, rather the cost for rent and other things that needed attention. A sudden cool, unpleasant feeling rose up to my throat, constricting my lungs and heart, making my pulse quicken and my breathing accelerate. I parked my car a ways off from the bustle, and walked the rest of the way there.

Seeing this destruction caused me a pain I couldn't explain. This was my second home, ever since I was in middle school. It had served that role for nearly a half a decade. What if… what if… this was the last straw?

Since this bookstore was not a widely owned chain, it was always on the edge of not being able to survive in the harsh economic world. This was financially and literally – a big hit.

Suddenly, I saw Chris's tall, lean figure over the rest of the team of people, dwarfing everyone else. He was pacing slowly back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose and lowering his head in stress, frustration, destitution. I pushed past the tightly packed group of people and pulled on his arm, trying to get his attention, like a little girl would her father.

"Mr. M? Uh, um, Chris?" I asked timidly.

He immediately jumped around to face me, widening his eyes in false joy.

"Etain! What… what are you doing here?" he said, his façade already faltering, his joy turning to hesitation and then sadness.

"I was going to come over early, but, you know, I realized… I mean, I forgot, and I saw you, and-and so I just wanted to know how things were going, and-" Chris cut me off.

"Okay, okay, okay. Just slow down, and tell me again why you're here?"

"I forgot about the accident, and so I wanted to come to work early, but then I realized that…" I paused.

"...Oh, gosh, I don't know. I guess, now, I'm just worried. About the store. About my job, about… everything. Just… just, how are things? How bad are they?" I waited.

I watched as his face changed from many emotions... sadness, sympathy, concentration, and finally, a bleak defeat. His eyes looked one-hundred years older than they actually were, rimmed with pink and surrounded by a pale blue shadow, showing he hadn't gotten much sleep.

"Well, Etain…" he began, his voice trembling.

It felt as if my whole world was coming down, again, at this moment. An unimaginable feeling of grief washed over me.

"…I don't think were gonna make it."