I'd like to point out that this takes place in Season 1...In case I didn't make it clear...

~Christianne

Nikki POV

RIIIINNG! BRRRRR-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

I gasped as I sat up. My eyes wide as I smacked my head to my forehead to push my currently uncontrolled waves out of my eyes.

My phone was blaring from my nightstand, and I scrambled to get it, falling on the floor in the process. I wasn't quite coherent enough to find it easily.

"Yeah?" I got out after flipping my phone open and slapping it to my face. I was on the floor, my bare thighs on the cold hardwood making me shiver.

"Miss Walsh? This is Jim Perry, the head contractor on your aunts house," A gruff voice said formally.

Before my aunt had her stroke, she was having her entire house renovated. New appliances, all the rooms were restored to the original mid-19th century glory, the works. I'd been staying with Wendy in her apartment above CJ's until it was done. "Uh-Huh," I yawned, still waking up.

"I'm just calling to inform you that we have completed all the reservations at estate. My crew will be leaving today and you will be able to move in tonight." Jim continued.

"Great." I said flatly, glaring at the clock on my nightstand. Five in the morning. He called me at five in the morning.

"Yes...Well...Good-bye Miss Walsh, I hope the house is to your liking." Jim said, still formal.

"Goodbye Jimmy," I sighed. "I hope that stick up your ass doesn't poke out your eye." I said in the same formal tone before I hung up and let my head loll back on the side of my mattress. I slowly slid my eyes towards my clock on my nightstand again. Five. Freakin' five. What contractor calls a client at five in the morning to tell them they're done? A crazy one, that's what kind.

I hauled myself up from the floor, and stared around the tiny, closet of a room. Both Wendy and I lived in the apartment above CJ's, and I hated it. I didn't mind rooming with Wen, or living above CJ's, it was Wendy's guests that I had issues with. This should sum it up; The wall the head of my bed is against is the wall I share with Wen's room, and I have a scar on my forehead from where a picture frame fell and cut my forehead a few months ago.

After I dug out a clean set of clothes, I went to the bathroom and started the shower. While I waited for the water to get hot, I started to strip down, only to stop when I raised my arm above my head to pull my tank top off, and I felt like someone was stabbing me in my ribs. I bit my lip so I wouldn't cry out from the sudden pain, and dropped my arms to brace them on the sink. I slowly straightened up and lifted the left side of my shirt. With my tank top bunched up just under my breasts, I turned so the mirror had a full view of my ribs.

"Shit." I whispered, seeing that the red mark on my ribs had grown from five inches long and half an inch wide, to almost six inches long and nearly an inch wide. I frowned and sucked in a breath, shaking my head slightly.

I told myself I wasn't going to let this be a problem, so, I'm not letting it become a problem.

After taking a shower and completing the tedious task of drying my thick, long brown hair, I dug around the first aid kit I kept under the sink. I finally produced a roll of gauze and an Ace bandage. I dropped both rolls on the counter as I got dressed. I left my shirt on the counter, and carefully clasped my bra, the hot water from my shower had made the long mark on my ribs redder, more sensitive and downright painful.

I unrolled a lengthy piece of gauze and doubled the two inch long fabric over a few times so it was more like a thick pad to go over the red mark. I awkwardly held it until I had the Ace bandage around my whole midsection a few times. By the time I clipped the end of the bandage to the rest of the rap, the tan stretchy-fabric went from the edge of my bra, almost down to my hips. I sucked in a stuttery breath and shook my head slightly, pushing memories out of my mind.

I pulled on my shirt, and after quickly making sure it wasn't obvious I had an Ace bandage over my entire middle, I left the bathroom and made a beeline for my room. Once there, I grabbed my camera from the top shelf of my bookcase along with my jacket and happily left the apartment

(Wendy's guest was still over). I shivered slightly as I stepped out into the chilly morning air. I pulled my jacket tighter over my body and headed towards the woods with my camera.

Photography was a hobby of mine, has been since I was 11, when my foster mom gave me my first real camera. They were cleaning out their attic and found a camera from the 1940s, it belonged to my foster mom's dad. I just fell in love with it and after two solid days of begging, I woke up to see the shiny, slightly abused camera on my nightstand.

I bit my lip in concentration as I used my thumb nail to get the thick gunk of dirt and dust off the shutter as I walked towards the woods. I hadn't had the time to take pictures in the woods since I came to Janesville, and the early morning's dull light, dew and dust were going to make some fantastic pictures.

After a ten minute walk, I reached the edge of the woods. I raised my camera to my face and took a picture of the dark woods, the morning light filtering through the thick foliage of the trees and the foggy-white mist that was spilling threw the brush at the forest floor. It looked...Well, erie, to say the least. But, it was a beautiful type of erie. If that make any sense. I sighed at the satisfying clicking sound that came from my camera, and continued into the woods.

It was about ten minutes later when I started to feel...Off. Like someone was watching me. I lowered my camera, and carefully turned in a slow circle, listening to the quiet sounds of the woods in the morning.

My left side began to throb with pain, I winced and gently put my right hand over the section of covered flesh that felt like a white hot iron was being pressed against. Another spasm of pain shot through me, radiating from my side. Then, another type of pain started, this time in my head. My other hand smacked against my forehead, dropping my camera.

I'm not sure in what order the next set of events occurred, but I think it went like this;

I had my eyes pinched shut tight in pain, but my eyes still hurt from a light that was shining directly into my eyes.

The burning in my head continued, pushing against the light that was stabbing into my pupils, drilling into my skull.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. The hand was warm, but cool at the same time. It dulled the pain in my side, but the pain in my head grew. The hand on my shoulder stayed, while another hand rested on the side of my face, dousing the burning pain.

While the pain subsided, I screamed. I screamed like I was being set on fire. And I don't know why. I wasn't in any pain. I didn't want to scream. It was like I was a puppet on strings, someone else was making me scream.

Then, there was the voice. It was...Well, it was powerful. As is spoke, I almost felt like someone was leaning over me, whispering in my ear.

Memor esto hujus, gassagen meum. Cum tu duobus duo occidere. It said. The language was unfamiliar to me, but the voice...The voice was nagging me. It was familiar.

Cum tibi vincula occidens finem vult, alter qui occidit in ore gladii. Parvulus concupiit tu es, filia Michael honoratum. Navem tu de tenebris in lucem cursum tenet, et lapis quem gladium acutum. Hoc est periculosum iter, evolat alis suis, et domo praesidio non licet. Votum inveniam viam aut creare, ut custodiant te.

The voice stopped after that, and the next thing I felt was a light pressure on my forehead.

Then, I'm gasping for air like I've been underwater, standing at the edge of the woods. I was looking around wide eyed, trying to gage where I was, and how much time had passed. Judging by the still low sun, fifteen minutes max. It felt like hours.

I blinked a few times, clearing my head. My head was swirling, trying to process the events that just happened. I raised my right hand and gently set it on my ribs, which were completely pain free.

I just stood there for a second, trying desperately to suppress the memories that the last five minutes had dug up. I was nine years old. Three weeks away from my tenth birthday. I was never really a popular kid on the playground, I was always alone. Well, alone. I had an imaginary friend. I was playing with her, my imaginary friend, in the woods one day, when a light came. It was tall, taller than any building I'd ever seen.

It was three hours later, and I found myself on the edge of the woods. When I was found walking home by my social worker, she asked me where I'd been. I remember exactly what I'd said. 'Me and my friend and the bright man were playing. The bright man told me I was special and that I was missed and one day I'm gonna help save the world from the bad man down there.' I pointed to the ground, indicating hell. Those words took a year of my life from me.

Jolting back to reality, I sat on the ground, and thought of happy things.

Puppies. Cookies. Rainbows. Etcetera, etcetera...

"It's not real, Nikki," I sighed, raking my hair back, playing with a few loose strands. "None of it's real." I was about to repeat the words, when a twig snapped behind me. I whirled around, and heard what sounded like a massive bird taking off, but saw nothing.

After ten minutes of repeating the phrase 'It's not real, Nikki. None of it's real.' I got up from the damp ground and started towards CJ's again. Going by the time on my phone, it was almost six-thirty, opening time.

I was walking down the gravel sidewalk with my hands shoved in my pockets, and my gaze up towards the sky. Made me feel a little better.

It was going to be a beautiful day, I could tell. The morning clouds were starting to clear, showing a beautiful, clear blue sky. Despite the chill in the air, it was going to be a beautiful day. And, despite what I'd already been through, it was a beautiful day. Until I tripped over something, sending me tummy first onto the gravel.

"Whus goin' on-Shit! Are you ok?"