Chapter One

Swirling mist rolls around me as I tilt my head back to fully see the huge, distorted tower in front of me. It looks like a gothic version of the Disneyland Tower. The moon is out; a luminous yellow-white against a velvety black. The tower is desolate; it looks as if it hasn't been occupied for centuries. Wrought iron gates swing and squeak on their hinges, rusting and rotting away. The unmistakeable scent of burning wood invades my nostrils, making me gag.

It's quiet; too quiet.

I can't even hear engines roaring away down the highway, like they usually do. A shiver rolls up my spine and I shudder twice, trying to make the feeling of spiders crawling on my skin go away. My feet make a muffled crunching sound as they meet the soft gravel; the only sound I can make out. Now I think about it, I can hear another sound.

I place it as whispering voices.

"Donna!" They rasp, "Donna, come to me! Come to me, Donna! Come to me!" My breath quickens, my heart rate accelerates, my mouth goes dry. I want to run but I feel oddly drawn to the tower. It has an air of mystery and something inside of me longs to know what that mystery is. Something compels me to look up and I do. I see them. Black silhouettes swirl around the tower, circling it like eerie sentries. I don't know what they are; human or otherwise, but they make my fear notch up three extra levels. So now I am reaching the point of hysteria.

I start stumbling away, unwilling to let those hovering shapes, the tower and the rolling mist out of my sight. I don't want to turn my back on them, no matter how wimpy that sounds. Something catches my ankle and I flop to the ground, squealing as I go down. A wave of dizziness hits me and I lift my hands towards my forehead, clutching it as if that will somehow take the light-headedness away magically.

Suddenly, just as abruptly as it had begun, the giddiness evaporates.

I put my hands back on the ground and frown, opening my eyes which I hadn't realised were closed until now. Instead of hard gravel meeting my hands, the substance under me is soft and bouncy. I jump up as recognition hits me. Cautiously, I step out of the flower bed and brush soil from my clothes.

What the hell just happened? Who were those people calling to me and how did they know my name? More importantly, how did I just end up in my back yard, sitting on my mom's flower patch?

A door opens, allowing a sliver of light out into the yard. Two figures stand in the doorway. After assessing the situation before them, they walk out and stop directly in front of me. I look up into Mom's pretty features; luscious, glossy strawberry blonde hair, a heart shaped face, jade coloured eyes, a minute nose, plump lips, a figure to kill for.

Mom.

Most moms have a job in Wal-Mart and wear jogging pants and baggy t-shirts, but not mine. My mom is a model and insists on wearing the latest designer gear, no matter what the time of day. My mom is currently wearing Prada flannel pyjamas and over them, a Dolce and Gabbana silk night robe.

"What are you doing out here, Donna?" Mom puts her hand on her hips dramatically.

"Um..." I frantically ransack my mind for an answer. Behind Mom, stands Dad, another one of the models, but a different type. Dad is a swimsuit model.

"You were sleepwalking again, weren't you?" Dad tuts at me, "Lorraine, we should really take Donna to see the family doctor."

Mom sighs, "I don't know. I'm just worried, Donna. This behaviour is scaring me. What if you leave the house and go on a road and something happens..." Mom trails off, shaking her head as if trying to clear it, "Let's get inside. I'll make some herbal tea and we can all talk about it."

"Mom, I have school tomorrow." I remind her as we walk towards the house.

"I'll make herbal tea and we can all talk it about it tomorrow." She corrects herself. Another thing about Mom; she just needs an excuse to make herbal tea. I find it absolutely revolting, but Mom and Dad like it for some bizarre reason.

The Next Day...

"So, Donna, let's talk." Mom says, letting her mug of herbal tea rest on the polished oak dining table. It's the next day after school. Dad is out on a photo shoot.

"Mom, about last night," I begin, "I have no idea how I got to the backyard. Seriously. I don't remember anything."

It was so freaky. One minute I was laying in bed, drifting off to sleep, the next I was in that creepy place fighting nausea and dizziness and the next, I'm outside! What does it all meam? Is it a warning about something? Is something bad going to happen to me? Just thinking about it makes bile rise up in my throat and the table begins to swim before my eyes.

It's been like this for two weeks now; the dreams, the morning talks, the drinks. It's almost become a routine thing now, something to shape the day around. What I say has almost been programmed into me, just intuitive responses. They're not thought about, not pondered over before they're blurted out of my mouth.

The words are just out there, to comfort my mother.

I shake my head to try and clear it and then try to focus on what Mom is saying.

"I understand that." Mom nods, then sighs, "Try to see it from my point of view, Donna. I'm worried. It's not normal for you to be waking up in the middle of the back yard."

"I know, Mom." I run a hand through my blonde hair, "But it's not my fault. I never mean for it to happen. I just.... it confuses me. A lot."

Mom lets her hand rest over mine, "I know, baby. I know. Well, we can't really do anything. Donna, there isn't anything stressing you out, is there? School? Friends? Anything?"

Mom's finely plucked eyebrows knit together in concern.

I wonder if I should tell her about the dreams. My gut clenches and I fight the urge to double over in pain. It takes a moment for the pain to go away and when it does, my blood is roaring in my ears and my hands are clammy with sweat.

I'll take that as a no, then.

"No, Mom, not that I know of." I sit back in my seat, taking a sip of my cappucino, wondering if I need a psychiatrist.

I mean, what was that? It was almost as if something didn't want me to tell Mom about the dreams. But, why not? They were just dreams, nothing to be afraid of.

Maybe when the dreams make you physically sick, they are something to be afraid of. My inner sarcastic voice says to me. I sigh inwardly.

I've always had an overactive imagination. Maybe it's just my imagination acting up. Most probably is.

"Well, if there is, you come and talk. And don't slouch, it's not good for posture." Mom warns as she leaves. I put the mug down and sigh. What in the world is going on with me? Dad walks in, his brown hair tousled and grey eyes shining.

"Good shoot?" I ask, even though I know the answer. Dad kisses my forehead.

"One of the best. They let me keep two suits. One for your mom and one for me. I'll get her to join me in the pool." Dad gives me a mischevious wink and bounds out of the room. I take the two mugs over to the sink and pop them into the dishwasher. I sit on the work top, which is something Mom doesn't allow.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

I take my cell out and my fingers drift across the key board. Mom and Dad walk in and Mom gasps as she spots me sitting on the work top. I look from side to side for an escape, frozen in position.

"Donna Jade Morrison! How many times have I told you not to sit on the work top?" Mom asks, frowning at me.

"None... this week." I wince. Dad bursts into laughter and Mom slaps his arm.

"Sorry, darling." Dad clears his throat in an attempt to stay serious.

"That is unhygienic, Donna. Putting your butt where I cook." Mom tells me.

"Sorry." I apologise, going over to give her a hug, knowing she'll give in. Mom relaxes and kisses the top of my head.

"Okay. Your dad and I are going to the pool. You wanna join us, Donna?"

"No, Mom." I shake my head, "It's okay. I'm going up to my room, go on my laptop for a while."

I wake in the morning, still in my bed for once. More than a little pleased and practically drowning in surprise, I sigh in relief and then jump up, heading over to my beech wardrobe. I take out a peachy pink off-the-shoulder top, denim jeans and some brown, furry boots. I grab my tote bag and then thud down the staircase into the hallway. I enter into the dining room/kitchen and pick up a slice of toast.

"Dad, come on!" I urge him. Dad is sitting down, his feet on the table, reading the newspaper.

"Okay, impatient one. Just let your mom come and we'll go." He mutters from behind the paper. I sigh and slump into a chair, admitting defeat.

Someone pats my shoulders, pulling them back, "Don't slouch, sweetie. I told you yesterday." Mom puts a small container of ready-made salad and a mug of herbal tea down on the dining table and sits down. "Rob, put your feet down! You're worse than Donna." She scolds Dad.

Dad sighs and drags his feet off the table.

Mom tucks into her salad. I look at Dad pointedly. He sighs again, "Let's go, Donna." I grin and get up, following him through an adjoining door to the garage. Dad gets into his Merc and revs the engine. I roll my eyes and sit in the front passenger seat. We accelerate out of the garage and Dad continues to inch the speed higher until we get to my school. I jump out of the car and lean in the window to give Dad a peck on the cheek, "Bye, Dad. Love you!"

"Love you too, Donna!" Dad smiles as I walk away to the school grounds. I spot an auburn-haired, blue-eyed slender girl and grin. Avril Burns, my best friend. And, no, I do not know why she has the same surname as a character from The Simpsons.

"Donna!" She runs over and gives me a hug, "Hey. Guess what? There's a new boy and he is so totally hot!"

"A new boy?" I repeat, just to make sure I heard right.

"Uh-huh. And he is like mega-hot! He's hotter than your dad!"

I look -- astonished -- at Avril and she clears her throat, a blush working it's way up her cheeks. "My dad is not hot. Don't make me gag." I touch my throat, swallowing the bile back down. How weird is it when you find out that your best friend thinks your dad is hot? I mean, lots of people say it to my face but I'm not used to hearing my friends say it. I sigh and give Avril a hug, as she is still blushing a little bit, "It's okay. I forgive you, Avril. Now about this new boy..."

"I have details." Avril gushes, having recovered, "He's called Rhys Hart and he's sixteen. He turned sixteen some time last month. He moved to New York from Arizona last week. Reason unknown. That's all I know."

"That's quite a lot considering all you've done is have a glimpse of him." I tell her, giving her a grateful squeeze. Avril smiles and we enter the school, slouching through the corridors to our first class, Biology. I sit down at the double desk, Avril sitting behind me with some cool surfer dude called Jack. The door opens and my breath catches in my throat.

He is so beautiful.

He has bewitching turquoise eyes, tousled brown locks of hair, a nose that turns up adorably at the end and mesmerising lips that are shaped like a bow. His body is coiled with small and hard muscles, but he's still lean. His gaze meets mine and holds there. He doesn't blink as he stares right at me. My lips break apart as a breath whooshes out. For a moment, everyone fades away and it seems as if he's the only person in the room. A shot of electricity buzzes through me and at that moment, he looks away, his face unreadable.

My second book!! Aargh, so excited about this one!! It's the first time I'm trying out a romance so please leave your feedback :)