SO sorry again, I took so long to update. I'm sad to say I can't promise you faster updates. :(:(:(:(:( School is such a B**CH. We just had our first exam this afternoon. And homework is piling up like hell. Jesus. I dunno why school just kills me. I'm only twelve years old; I don't want to die that early.

And life is very stressful.

Anyways, enjoy chapter 8!

Chapter 8

Cammie starts running, flinging her heels behind her, barely missing a masked-covered figure running behind her. She kicks a padlocked door open with her bare feet, and frantically climbs the stairs, the masked figure gaining on her.

Cammie, still running, doesn't look back as she rips the tight hem of her gown so she can run more freely. She goes higher up the stairs, keeps on running, even though she doesn't know where she'll end up.

The masked figure gets closer behind her, blond hair rippling in the moonlight.

Chasing her.

Herding her.

Only Cammie doesn't know that.

Cammie reaches a metal door slightly ajar, and, seeing as there were no more stairs, barges through it.

Her first mistake.

The room was completely made of mirrors. It was empty, shaped like a pentagon, and fifteen meters wide, she thinks. Cammie finds it hard to tell, because her reflection keeps jumping at her from the dizzying walls-and-ceilings-and-floors mirrors, some the same size of her fist, some bigger than her head.

Cammie forces herself to concentrate on one of her bigger reflections and notes how frightened she looks with her red dress torn at the hem, caramel blond hair a windswept, tangled mess, and wide eyes. Her feet were sore, bleeding where skin scraped rough surface. Her chest and shoulders were heaving.

Cammie senses movement and turns. But before she could react, he struck fast and hard, his fist a piston firing at her lower back. She gasps, her vision goes black at the corners, and collapses to the floor, her kidney on fire. The pain shoots through her leg and up her spine. She tries to get up, but it only made the pain worse.

The masked figure pins her to the floor again, and she bangs her head on the ice-cold floor. Her head throbs from the impact.

Then whatever miraculous substance that made dreams possible gives her a surge of energy and Cammie's hand found the figure's face and rips off the mask hiding his identity.

Her heart stops pounding.

She sees blue eyes.

She chokes.

And freezes.

And says.

"Josh?"

Josh Abram grins at her, but not the nice, homely smile she once associated with him. It was a horrible smile filled with evil and promised malice. He speaks, but his words are clipped and tainted with mocking politeness.

"Hello, Cammie. Miss me?". He reaches for a knife she now noticed hanging from his belt. The knife had a vaguely familiar symbol on it's hilt.

Cammie tries to struggle, but he grabs her by the hair and bangs her head on the floor, but harder. Her vision grows blurry.

He used you, says the voice in her head. Cammie, you idiot, he used you.

Only she doesn't know what for.

She doesn't even scream as the blade pierces her heart.

x~x~x~x

The noisy ringing of an alarm clock woke me up. I cursed in German and buried my face in the pillow, trying to block out, which unfortunately, didn't work.

Wait I thought groggily What alarm clock? I don't remember taking it out of my bag last night.

Zach. Who else could it be? So I tried prying the plug from it's socket (until I found out there was no plug). So I pried the back part open and took out the batteries, but it was too late. I was awake.

Something thin and white peeked out from under the disabled clock.

Cammie,

Don't worry about me. Do whatever you want, just don't go outside.

Zach.

I breathed a sigh of unexpected relief.

The old me should've felt annoyed he left me behind (I wouldn't have had that nightmare if he had) but all I felt was a mixture of relief and bewilderment.

Bewilderment because I felt like somebody ran me over with a truck.

Or stabbed me with a knife.

I shivered involuntarily. Why did Josh try to kill me? In my dream, anyway.

What was that the voice told me? It wasn't easy to forget. He used you. Cammie, you idiot he used you. Is that a normal thing for a person to hear in her dreams? And why Josh?

Josh was innocent. He had been from the day I met him to the time I saw him in the walls of my school. He's probably in Roseville dating Dee Dee right now. He probably doesn't care about me anymore. He probably remembers me as a stuck-up rich snob that played with his feelings like they were pieces in a game. He's normal.

Innocent.

Do I still have feelings for him myself? I covered my face with my hands. Maybe. No, not maybe. Yeah, you do, the voice went on relentlessly.

Shut up! Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP! I wanted to scream. This stupid voice has been driving me crazy since I ran away. And I hate it.

Fine, maybe it was right at some times, and unfortunately, this is one of those times.

Josh had been my first boyfriend, my first kiss, and not even what I had with Zach changed that. If you asked me who I'd pick between the two of them, I wouldn't n be completely honest to myself if I said Zach.

I let out a breath and released the pillow I now realized I was hugging tightly.

I shook myself. It's just a dream, right? Dreams don't mean anything. Everybody knows that.

Right?

Even so, I wasn't ready to confess to Zach I had been dreaming about Josh, even if the dream was more like a nightmare. He'll probably be mad or concerned; I don't know. And, yeah, that would be awkward. He'll probably think I'm going out of my mind. What better option than to forget about it?

My stomach growled. I stood up carefully and rummaged through the shelves and managed to scare up a few bags of Doritos, a box of Krispy Kremes and found a bottle of cold water in a mini fridge.

Where did Zach get this stuff? The Krispy Kremes were not less than twenty-four hours old. A doughnut that tasted this fresh could could only be bought from a nearby bakery.

A gust of cold morning air reached me. I heard footsteps, put aside the half-eaten doughnut, looked up, and just stared.

I was sure the climate was chilly outside, but instead of looking like he was freezing, he looked, well, hot.

Ironic, isn't it?

Whatever remaining thoughts I had of Josh sunk well below the radar. Zach wore black jeans, combat boots, and a grey shirt under a beat-up motorcycle jacket. A pretty basic outfit, but it suited him better than it would most guys.

He smirked. "You're staring, Gallagher Girl. Didn't anyone tell you it was rude to stare?"

I ignored the intended pun. "Where were you?"

He shrugged."I cleaned the mess you had last night. Can't let the risk of somebody finding out somebody lives here go."

I kept on staring.

He took a Dodgers cap off it's hook and put it on. "Come on. I've got something to show you."

I grinned at him."Since when did you give surprises?"

"Since a few seconds ago."He started towards the door."Are you coming, or not?"

My stomach grumbled again. I looked at my clothes, which were still the ones I'd worn the night before. "Does it count breakfast?"

"Yeah."

I felt relieved."Thank God. I could do with some food."I looked at my clothes again."Can you give me a few minutes to change?"

There was his annoying smirk again."Sure. But I'd rather wait here." He tapped on the stone.

Oh. That explained the smirk.

So what? It was his decision to watch me strip. But I am not going to give him the chance to do me. Hell, no. In the future probably, but not yet.

I shrugged. "Fine. But you are going to stay exactly where you are. Understood?"

He didn't seem surprised."Okay. Move it."

Damn. How can teenage boys be both so freaking annoying and hot? It was unnatural. But then, Zach ain't only a teenage boy, he's a trained teenage boy spy and assassin.

Right. How confusing was that?

And when a certain trained teenage boy spy and assassin tells you to 'move it' you cannot resist telling him to:

"Shut up."

And he shut up.

I hurriedly changed from my jeggings to a pair of tawny jeans. I unbuttoned the borrowed shirt and put on a white shirt I paired with a matching tawny jacket. Macey helped me plan the outfit a long time ago, probably last semester.

I put on my sneakers. Do I have to mention I felt his eyes on me the whole time I changed?

I scrutinized myself in the reflection of the full-length mirror a few feet away. I looked okay, I think. Then I remembered the mirror room in my dream.

Screw it. The Josh nightmare was back again.

I pushed it away from my head, fully intending to forget about it. I strolled towards Zach, and followed him down the stairs.

When we got out, the thought of the nightmare still stuck to me like glue.

R&R!