I spent most of today napping on the couch that occupied the middle of the living room, curled up with a huge blanket and hooked up to the oxygen tank. I had come down from my room around six-thirty, ate breakfast, then moved to the couch and slept for several hours before my mom woke me up for lunch. I went back to sleep after eating again and didn't wake up until seven-ish. Not only was I tired all the time, but the crap sleeping schedule that my body had made up was keeping me up all night. I was sort of okay with that, because I didn't have to worry about something urgent happening and my mom not knowing what was going on. I'd rather sleep in front of her if something like that happened.

I ate dinner by myself, which consisted of macaroni and cheese with bacon in it that I had to microwave. My mom had left to go and look at new dishwashers, since the one that was currently occupying the kitchen had decided that it had had enough with the dirty dishes, and wanted to live out its life-long dream of becoming a piece of scrap metal that would be turned into a soda can. I huddled up in my blankets with a bowl full of the macaroni and watched a little pre-late night television. That was when most of the good stuff was on. After a half an hour or so I decided to go for a walk; I put my bowl and fork into the sink and went up the stairs to my room. I emptied out my backpack and filled it with things I might need; a flashlight, my phone, and the inhaler that Melissa had suggested that I carry around for emergencies when I didn't have the oxygen tank. I changed out of my heavy pajamas and into some "regular clothes", practically the same outfit I wore when I went back to Beacon Hills High School last week. I texted my mom that I was leaving the house so she wouldn't go into a crazy frenzy looking for me and calling the police when she returned home. I was leaving tomorrow for the hospital, and she would have to return to work; after all, I'd be in a place full of doctors and nurses, so she shouldn't be as worried about my well-being as she usually was.

I got into my truck and drove into a little gravel parking lot that had trails leading into the forest, slowly turning from the gravel of the parking lot to the dirt and debris that littered the forest floor. It was going to start dark soon, so I had to make this walk a quick one unless I wanted to be wandering through the darkness with a flashlight that I hadn't even checked for batteries. Let's hope that if I needed it, the light wouldn't just flicker off like it had better business elsewhere. That would put a total damper on things, and I'd have to somehow manage my way back to my truck with the weak light that came off of my phone. I know, I'd walked the trail so many times in the past month - actually, almost everyday - but I didn't have the thing memorized. Why would I need to?

The air was already starting to chill, although it wouldn't drop down much farther. As long as the weather didn't decide on a whim to become windy, I'd be fine in just my sweatshirt. Just in case, I pulled an old Carhartt jacket out from the backseat and stuffed it into the backpack. I threw the thing on, slamming shut the truck door and locking it, shoving the keys into my jeans pocket. I started towards the marked path, hoping that I wouldn't need to make an emergency call to have someone come and find me in the forest.

. . . . .

"Derek, you have to help her." Scott slammed his fists down onto the table the Derek was seated at. He was practically growling, but he didn't care at the moment.

"Why should I?" Derek tossed his eyebrows up, staring at his shoes which were resting on the table, crossed at the ankles.

"Well, first off, she's dying. Do you need any other reason?"

"And how do you know that she's dying?"

"I heard her say so."

"How do you know she wasn't ly-"

"She wasn't lying, Derek. Her pulse didn't pick up even a little bit, and I could smell it on her. She smelled like Gerard had." Derek's eyes were hard on his shoes, like he didn't want to cave in and that somehow looking at Scott would do that. If anyone, Isaac would be the one to make someone crack, pulling a complete puppy-dog face and the whole sha-bang. But Scott was determined, determined to make Derek at least consider giving the girl the bite. He switched from his previous fighting voice to a softer, pleading one. "C'mon Derek, she deserves it more than the rest of us."

Derek sighed, pulling his feet from the table and bringing them to the floor. He looked to Scott, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward slightly.

"You need to find her first. Did it even occur to you that I would need to bite her? And you've only seen her once."

Scott withheld a smile of triumph, with great difficulty.

"Well, the only hospital in the area is Beacon Hills Hospital, so she has to be going there for check-ups."

"And how are you going to find out when she'll be there next?"

"I haven't got that part figured out yet, but I think I have an idea."

Derek sighed, pushing up from his seat to a standing position.

"If you plan on doing anything stupid, bring Isaac with you."

. . . . .

"Now isn't that just ironic."

The forest in front of me was laden with red poppies; that couldn't just be coincidental. It was like the universe was trying to one-up her dark humor. The irony that the flowers held was two-faced; my middle name happened to be Poppy, and a red poppy symbolized sleep, peace, and death. I stooped down, picking a dozen or so, and returned to standing. I took one from the other twelve and stuck it behind my ear, shoving the rest into a side pocket on my backpack. I'd put them in a vase when I got home. Er, scratch that. I'd probably forget they were in the side pocket and leave them all there to dry out and turn into dead, crispy flowers. If I actually did remember, I'd bring the vase of poppies to the hospital with me. My last trip out to the forest would be contained within that jar full of water and flowers that would die as quickly as I was predicted to.

I kept a steady walking pace, my hands stuffed into the big pocket on the front of my sweatshirt, the inhaler pressed against my palm. I should've brought the oxygen tank with me, but I didn't want to lug that heavy thing around and I didn't think it would fare well with the non-flat terrain of the forest. That would just be hell, let alone trying to drag it out if darkness approached quicker than it already was. I could already see the moon beginning to shine between the trees; it was just barely past the first quarter. I walked a bit more, watching the moon as it slowly but steadily cast its silver glow onto the ground below as the visible light became less and less by the minute.

Stopping at a fork in the now barely discernible path that I had been taking, I turned around and began going in the direction I had came from. I was able to walk for a minute or so before I needed to stop and take out my flashlight. I pulled the straps off my arms and swung it in front of me, setting it on the ground. I unzipped the bag and plunged my hand into it, having to dig beneath the heavy Carhartt jacket to get to what I needed. I stood there for a bit, dragging my hand around in the backpack for the light. I found it eventually, and pulled it out. I zipped the backpack back up and threw it over one shoulder, then threaded my arm through the other arm-hole.

I hadn't even clicked on the flashlight when I heard something. The first thought that crossed my mind was, oh god, I'm in a horror movie, aren't I? I clicked on the flashlight and swung it around my immediate area. Then I said the stupidest thing I could possibly think of at that moment.

"Hello?"

If I was actually in a horror movie right now, two out of three in the usual line-up already happened; I looked around for the murder or monster or whatever the hell the thing that was pursuing me was and I had asked the question that almost every single Mary Jane horror movie character had said. The only thing that was left was for the battery in my flashlight to run out. And as if on cue, as if the flashlight was secretly a mind-reader in disguise because he needed to escape from the law, the light flickered, and then went out. Of all of the things that could've happened to me tonight, this specific line-up of things had to be happening. It was like I was in a super low-budget horror film that was meant to be a drama and slowly turn into an action-filled horror. Well, I've got to say, this movie is one crap film.

"You have got to be joking."

I hit the head of the flashlight against my palm several times, the light flickering on one before going out as quickly as it had come back. The area was completely dark now, the only light coming from the moon, which was scattered and broken by the trees.

.

"M-Melissa?"

"Natalie? Is something wrong?"

"I-It's just I was walking, a-and my flashlight, the light. A-and the noise-" I stammered quickly, seemingly not in control of my own words. I had a feeling that everything I had been holding back, especially the tears, since I was diagnosed was coming out now.

"Nat, honey, slow down. Where are you?"

"F-forest. Near the high s-school."

There was a short silence before Melissa responded, her voice carrying a slight sound of fear.

"Natalie, listen to me. Stay right where you are, and do not move at all. I am sending Scott to come and get you."

I nodded, giving only a whimper in response.

"Nat, I have to go. Scott will be there soon, don't worry. Everything will be okay."

She hung up, and I just clutched my phone in my hand, like if I let it go that her promise would be broken and Scott would never come and get me.