After a tragic event drives her out of little Hillsborough, NC, 19-year-old Meghan Greene finds herself living in a Manhattan apartment with her best friend Chelsea Matthews. Officially enrolled in NYU and wanting to forget about her old life in her...
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Meghan
"What're you thinking about?" I ask him as he stares off into the distance. His dark hair sticks up in different directions as if he's run his fingers through it repeatedly, his eyes have crinkles in the corners as a dazzling smile takes over his face, the setting sun giving his tanned skin a beautiful glow.
"You," he whispers and my heart thumps in my chest when he turns to face me. But not from happiness.
Instead, it's from fear.
Because sitting next to me isn't Sebastian. Now, it's a man wearing a black jacket with the hood on. I'm not looking into the eyes of Sebastian, I'm looking into emotionless pits of black and a devious smile that screams 'danger'. I can feel my whole body begin to shake as I abruptly stand up and start backing away.
But he's already on his feet. His eyes trailing over my body disgustingly. His face is covered in a black fabric only allowing his eyes and mouth to show. But the way that my entire nervous system is on high alert is enough to tell me who this is.
It's one of them.
"I told you I wasn't done with you," and he lunges for me. A scream ripples through the air as I turn and run but there's nothing around me. Everything is black. I'm running endlessly. There's no exit in sight, no people.
Nothing.
"I know where you are," his voice echoes through the timeless vortex.
"I've found you!" His body slams into mine and then I'm falling. But I don't know for how long. All I hear are my screams of pain.
"Meg! Meg, wake up!"
I open my eyes, frantically searching the room for the source of the voice. My lights are on and Chelsea is gripping me by the shoulders as she shakes me. The tears that are running down her face and the sobs that are coming from her lips are enough to snap me out of my nightmare until I collapse onto her, my own sobs wracking through me.
"You're okay. I'm here," she whispers as she hugs me tightly and rocks us back and forth. I can feel the way my hair is sticking to the back of my neck and forehead, the way my shirt clings too closely to my skin, the way the temperature seems to be slowly dropping as my body finally becomes aware of the cold bedroom.
"You're okay," she says again. Reassuring me. Reassuring herself. But I'm not okay. The nightmares have been more frequent the past two weeks. They get worse every time. I have one almost every night and my sleeping pills are doing nothing to keep them at bay.
"I took them, Chelsea. I took the pills and they still- they don't work," I cry into her shoulder, my own still shaking from the tears. She holds me for a few more minutes before pulling away and grasping my face in her hands. Her eyes darting around frantically as she examines me. She does this every time.
