Jennifer Two

FIFTEEN.

June 18th, 2016

Four days ago, I started my little expedition to Presley. I knew it would take me hours to get there, so I got my tires pumped and I made sure I had stolen enough money for gas. It did hurt taking the money, but I had no choice at this point. I had to do it. It's only a one-time thing, and once it's done I'll just return to my regular boring semi-affluent life. I'll have to move on and settle eventually.

I got my sat-nav ready and packed my backpack, smuggling it into my car in the front yard. I left a note on the front door, telling my parents that I had gone on a trip for a while and they needn't worry, that they could call or text me at any time and that they should only be concerned if I was unresponsive for over a week. I prayed to God that they wouldn't start sounding alarm bells before my trip was over.

I got into the car in the early hours of the morning, hoping that the noise of the engine wouldn't rouse my old parents and halt my escape. I made sure to call Abby and Miles on my way out of town, letting them know that I'd be gone for a week and that all would be explained when I came back - that is, if I had the balls to explain to them my insane plan, and if it went down well.

With the driver window ajar, the breeze invaded the small space in my car, sending my hair into a frenzy. I was distracted watching the light particles from the illumination of the dawn, glinting transparent gold. Soon, the town streets and houses became lesser and lesser until I was just faced with a long stretch of highway and mountainous vistas. I was tired, because waking up early is definitely not my forte, and also because the dreams I had recently been having made it harder for me to rest easy.

Recently I've been attacked with dreams of Jennifer One. Most of the time they are benign, harmless, weird dreams. But every now and then, they are terrifying. I would have dreams about the way she died, and I will somehow be there watching. As if I'm waiting to take over. I'll see the Angel of Death waiting beside me, waiting for Jennifer One to walk off of the tennis court and into Death's arms. Then I'd realise, the Angel of Life is holding onto my shoulders, and Her grip is loosening by the second. I'm trapped by Her, but as soon as Jennifer One has gone, She will release Her hold. Jennifer Two will take her place.

Normally, I'd panic. I'd feel ready for the release. I'd feel like Jennifer One has more to offer - more to give, and I couldn't continue the game without her. I would feel like she's as good as it will ever get. I'm something of a subordinate. And when the Angel of Life releases me, I stumble out, meekly, weakly.

In every dream, we don't have names. We're just numbers. It's like we're not human; just projects, or drafts. In my dreams, I'm never Anne, Annie or Jenny-Anne.

I'm just Jennifer Two.

Halfway through my journey, I ended up in a small town called Wattson, two-hundred and seventy-five miles east of Bluebeach. I had to top up my gas and go get something to eat; it was around two o'clock in the afternoon, and I had been driving for near five hours. I was starving, and I could do with a break from staring down at endless expanses of road. I stopped at a small shopping mall near the highway, parking my car hastily and slinging my backpack on my shoulder so I could stuff it with any other goodies I might have felt to buy. I could cop a few new shirts whilst I was on my little trip. Taking my bag with me turned out to be the luckiest thing I did that day, along with meeting Kal for the first time.

With the summer sun burning into my skin like lasers, I headed into the mall for shelter and shade, and idly, I sauntered around shops wasting my own time and thinking of where to eat. I bought a pair of jeans at Forever 21, which I carefully squeezed into my bag, before heading off to Five Guys for a gnarly burger. On my way back to the car park, I stopped at a smoothie kiosk at the west entrance of the mall; I saw it on the way in, but I spent a bit too much time staring at the guy serving the drinks behind the bar, watching him effortlessly mix and blend fruits and serve them to customers. I made myself a mental note to try one out before I went on my way back to my journey. I also wanted to get a closer look at the respective smoothie-maker. He looked cute from afar.