The Insiders.

1. Skylar.

There I stood, hovered over this seemingly never-ending nightmare. I looked down with fearful eyes at the group of teenagers that lay in front of me. Their bodies bloody and their pulses gone. I've checked already. I can't see their faces, but I can tell I don't yet know them, but I feel a connection. I know I love them, even though, if you asked, I couldn't tell you their names, or even, what they look like. Their faces are almost... blurred.  My fingers shake uncontrollably as a lonely spark dies out of my hands. Did I do this? I don't remember doing it but I must've, Right? God, not again. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly to avoid seeing the young carnage.

"What is wrong with you!?" a voice boomed throughout the dark forest I stood in. I brought my trembling hands over my face and hid shamefully. "Stop." I mumbled, gripping strands of my braided hair so tightly I might just rip them out.

The voice didn't do what I asked. It never does. "You're a monster, Skylar. Look what you've done."

"Stop! Stop it!" I yelled, fed up with this mental torment. "Leave me alone!"

My eyes jerked open, allowing light to creep into my line of vision. I touched the car seat I was sitting in and pulled my head off of the window. I felt around the car. Leather seats, check. Cold, plastic cup holder, check. My mom in the driver's seat beside me? Check, check, check.

I'm okay. Well, clearly not mentally, but physically, I haven't killed anyone. I looked down at my fingers. No red stains covering the tips of them, although they are still vigorously shaking. I sighed a heavy breath, leaning my head back against the window. Yeah, I'm definitely f'ed up. 

Now, maybe I could spend the remaining hour of this car-ride pondering about why my dream was what it was. I could wonder about the teenagers, or the reason that they were dead, or perhaps even the reason that their blood was on my hands, but I won't. Mostly because I've tried that already. I've had this dream every time I fall asleep for the past week. Well, week and 4 days, technically. Some may say that if it's gone on for so long, I should be prepared. I should know that it's a dream, and that I should just wake up. To that, I call bullshit. Seeing a group of teenagers, you don't know, but feel love for, for reasons unknown, dead in front of you never really gets easier. Especially when that said blood is stained on your fingertips.

I staired out the window and watched the trees as they flew by. I was excited for this move. I was excited for the fresh start. We were moving from Chicago to a small town called Lonefalls. Charming, right? And with the pictures of it you'd see, you may get the impression that it's like, this, Stephan King horror town. However, when I saw the pictures, I also thought the same thing, but that's the fun of it. I mean, spooky mysterious girl moves to small, horror movie town, in October!? It's like, the perfectest thing ever!

"Sky," My mom called, turning her head towards me. "we're almost there." She squealed in her typical, cheery voice. Her almost-black hair was straightened, and she looked pretty. I mean, she always looked pretty, duh. But she looked particularly... put together. I guess she really wants to make some good first impressions.

I nodded and smiled, pulling my backpack up against my chest. I ping of worry started fluttering around my stomach, before I settled it down with a swig of water, taking a large gulp to avoid hearing my heart pound. So what? I was just a little nervous, no biggie.

My mom pulled into the driveway of our new home. It wasn't really anything special. A basic house on a basic street. The October air flushed my face pink as I wrapped my sweater tighter against my arms. "Brrr." I hummed, looking up at my mom. "You have the keys, right? If I'm out here anymore I might freeze to death. That'd sure be unfortunate."

"Yes, yes." Mom placed the keys in my palm and nodded towards the house. "Go in, honey. I'll grab some bags and meet you there." She said, a polite smile tugging at her cheeks. I hesitated, unsure of whether or not I should go, or stay to help my mom. My mom, however, made it clear for me to go inside. The shoving kinda gave it away. 

I walked up to the red-painted door, crunching leaves under my heel as I turned the knob. Stepping into the house wasn't anything particularly interesting either. I'd moved before. I've lived in suburbs and cities, small towns and alleyways. No one, and I mean, no one, is allowed to ask why. I mean it. Got it?

Moving my hand around the dark for find a lightswitch took about a minute and a half. I was counting. I quite enjoy counting things. I find that it's calming, and it always gives you something to do.

Once the lights were on, I realized that this was more of the nicer houses my mom and I have lived in. It wasn't perfect, but it was cute. I quickly bolted up the stairs to find my room, and there, at the end of the hall, there it was. A smallish room with plenty of windows, some even looking to the house directly beside mine. The walls were a pale cream, and the floor was a dark-brown wood. It was, despite what I said about the rest of the house, perfect. It was perfect.

I walked over to the window and looked through the one that viewed the house beside mine. I saw my mom talking to the neighbor out front, and behind the neighbor stood two kids, who looked around my ages. It was clear that they were twins, or at most, one year apart. They looked identical. They both shared the same dirty-blonde, shaggy hair. There was one boy, and one girl. The boy stood slumped, with his hands behind his back. He smiled shyly at my mom whenever she went to speak to him, but he always answered, despite clearly not wanting too. He had manners, green flag.

However, his sister's mannerisms were quite different. She stood tall, with her arms swinging at her sides. Her skin glowed and she expressed a pearly smile. She was wearing bootcut jeans, with Mary-Jane shoes. Her top was a oversized brown sweater, and she had the sleeves pulled over her hands. I didn't blame her; it was a particularly cold day for mid-October.

Her hair was just slightly past her shoulders, and it was messy. But, like, a nice messy. More... wavy, maybe? Anyways, she also had bangs. Not like, blunt crazy bangs, but just little whispys that covered her forehead. It was cute. Her cheeks were a rosy pink, partly from the cold, but perhaps that's just what she looks like. Her nails were long, with chipped, wine-red polish on them. She wore a long, gold necklace with a ring on it. I probably could have examined this girl forever, but it's already been a while, and, well, now she's walking inside.

How unfortunate.

As she walked, so did I. I walked back through the house that, legally, was mine, but it didn't exactly  feel that way yet. I watched from the top of the wooden stairs as my mom entered the house. A smiled was pasted onto her face, as was one on mine.