I could feel my chest burn as I fought to wake up, the darkness that always seemed to hold me prisoner in my sleep refusing to let go. I couldn't catch my breath as I felt phantom pains ripping through me, the screams that wanted to burst free unable to do so. It didn't help that I could feel something wrapping around my arms, binding them down as I struggled to break the hold.

When I finally managed to escape the nightmare I had been having once again, I found my arms wrapped up tightly by my bedsheets, having twisted them around me in my sleep. The pains that had been overwhelming me just moments ago vanished quickly as the last images from the nightmare that haunted me faded.

I finally freed myself from the blankets, slowly climbing out of bed to get ready for yet another day that was sure to be just as long and tiresome as they always were. This year had yet to bring anything to really look forward to, the same dull teachers droning on about the same boring subjects, the only difference being it was a higher grade so they seemed to want to make sure the classes were even more boring.

The only escape from it all was Art and the Drafting class I took to help prepare me for what I would need to advance in Architecture once I moved on to University. Harvard was my dream, but with the finances my family had, it would be more likely that I would be going to the University of Michigan and sharing a dorm room with someone I didn't know. I just couldn't afford eight years of tuition at Harvard and scholarships would only cover so much.

And to be honest, the Drafting class wasn't so much an escape as simply something I felt best to do if I wanted to achieve my dream as quickly as possible. In all honesty, it added to my stress because if I failed the class, it wouldn't look good in my college application. Not to mention how it would end up being another class I had to pay to take later on, while in high school it was a free elective and could help me place into the advanced class in college instead of having to start in a basic drafting class.

I suddenly realized I didn't have time to think of all this when I heard my mom calling out from down the hall, glancing at the clock and seeing that I only have 10 minutes before I absolutely had to be out the door to avoid being late to school. Again.

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It had started with whispers in the hallway in the morning, then huddled groups during lunch as the whispers grew louder and more joined in. I'm not sure when I started paying attention to what everyone was talking about but by the time I finally entered my history classroom, I was actually in a rush for the class to start. A shocking thing since History was not exactly my best subject outside of the specific cultures that held my interest.

If there was any truth to the rumors at all, there was something very special happening in the History classes today, and I definitely wanted in on it. Hopefully, I would be able to talk my parents into agreeing to it.

Of course, first I had to convince the teacher that I was worth considering for this event.

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My hands trembled as I held the paperwork out for my mom to take, praying quietly that she would say yes. I watched as her eyes widened, my dad glancing up from the newspaper at the soft gasp mom gave as she read through the information the pages held. Upon seeing the small stack of papers stapled together in her hand, dad quietly put the newspaper down and stood up to walk over and start reading over mom's shoulder.

I began chewing my lip as I watched dad's brow draw downward, a small frown forming on his lips as his lips moved quietly, mouthing the words as he often did when intent on what he was reading. He'd done the same thing when he read the voters pamphlet just before the last election, reading about each of the officials there was to choose from.

I could practically read his mind when he got to the part concerning costs, quickly blurting out that I would pay my own way with the money I had saved up from my part-time job last summer. I ducked my head at the small frown that appeared on his face for a moment, knowing that I had put the money aside to help pay for college books and other such things, but also knowing that a chance like this was not something a person got often.

I would just have to work even more hours next summer to make up for the hit to my small savings account.

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I had walked into school the following Monday with a signed consent form to hand to Ms. Ward at the end of the day's classes. I'd worked hard to get Ms. Ward to agree to even give me the form, debating with her after class the day of the announcement for nearly half an hour over all the reasons I had for why I should be one of the select few exchange students to go to Greece, finally winning the near argument when I had brought out the folder I had been putting together in recent months.

Inside, all my best drafts I had created lay slipped between protective sheets of paper, ready to be shown to the colleges and universities I planned on applying to in hopes it would encourage a more favorable response, especially from my top choices. Years of effort fueled by a lifetime of obsession with architecture had been hidden away and finally the best pieces collected into that folder.

Ms. Ward had been the first person outside of my family to view those drawings and it had been rewarding to see how quickly she had grown quiet before silently handing me one of those treasured forms. With a soft thank you, I had brought it home and then spent even longer getting my parents to agree as well. Hours of pleading and promising, all just to go to one specific place.

But how could I not take this chance to actually visit the country that had inspired every building that I drew? After all, once I was in college, I doubt I would have a chance to go to Greece for even a few days, let alone the six weeks this was planned for. If I hadn't taken this chance to fulfill one of my biggest dreams, a chance practically thrust into my lap, I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life.

And I refused to live a life filled with regrets over chances I didn't take.

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The night before the flight would have been a frantic mess if I hadn't spent the morning going over my checklist of things that I needed to bring versus things that I simply wanted to bring, as per Dad's suggestion. He had also recommended dividing things between my checked baggage and my carry-on. He'd told me horror stories about some of his own past trips and the resulting 'missing luggage' issues he'd had to deal with.

Remembering Mom's suggestion, I grabbed my bag of feminine products and divided those up between my luggage, my carry-on, and my purse, along with a few of the Euros that I had already exchanged some money for. Just enough to replace a few smaller items, just in case.

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I could feel my heart beat increase with every step I took, each strong thump leaving me wondering if the next would be the one to burst out of my chest. Pausing for a moment, I looked down at my plane ticket, checking the number against the sign in front of me to make sure I was at the correct gate. Taking a shuddering breath, I tried to calm myself as I began moving towards one of the empty chairs scattered amidst the crowd of people taking the same flight I was.

Finding a seat that wouldn't leave me feeling crowded on both sides, a minor miracle with how people seemed to have no problem with either loading their bags into the seats next to them or just placing their legs across seats as they scrolled through their phones, I finally managed to set my bags down and rest. It would be a fairly long wait, having gotten here extra early to make sure I didn't get delayed and miss my plane.

After all, this wasn't just my first time flying alone, it was potentially the most important flight I would ever take in my life.

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Closing the compartment, my carry-on bag having barely fit in the space remaining after others had hurriedly crammed their own bags inside. They'd rushed at the task as if the available space would vanish should they take more time to organize them better.

Feeling my back twinge from the long wait in the lobby's plastic chairs, I finally managed to sit in a seat that had real cushioning instead of just a thin sheet of foam covered in an inexpensive fabric that failed to hide how cheap the plastic chairs were.

Feeling my aching muscles sink into the extra padded seat of the aircraft, I sighed in relief before turning to look out the window. It would be several minutes yet before the plane would begin takeoff, so I had plenty of time to watch the other planes around us load and unload their baggage, hoping that my own made it onto the plane safely.

I stifled a yawn as I tried to get comfier in the chair, my eyes heavy due to having to get up at four in the morning to catch such an early flight. Hopefully, I would be able to regain the lost sleep on the flight without messing up my internal clock more than it would be from the change in time zones between my hometown and my destination in Greece.

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Gasping for the air I so desperately needed, I tried to ignore the shocked looks from the passengers around me, sleep still feeling heavy for both my eyelids and my chest. At least I wouldn't have to see any of these people again nor feel the pressure to explain my strange way of often waking up breathless from the night terrors I had.

Who would want to talk to anyone else, let alone a complete stranger, about nightmares where you could never seem to get enough air? And what kind of person would want to hear about such things from someone they didn't know?

Feeling again the jarring of the wheels as the plane landed, the same jarring that had awoken me so abruptly, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and tried my best to straighten up my clothing in preparation for getting off the plane. I didn't want to look a mess when I met the teacher that would be there to collect me from the airport.

After all, my parents always said that first impressions were important, especially during trips. You never knew who you would run into, who they might know, and how they might talk about you to someone if you made a bad impression.

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I could feel my face burning as I stared at the ground in front of me. So much for a good first impression. It looks like I hadn't been the only exchange program student on the flight, another having gotten picked up during the short stopover at a small airport near the coast before heading overseas, the layover being the reason my ticket had been purchased at a reduced fare.

Not only had he been seated close enough to see my less than stellar awakening, he just happened to be the guy I had tried my best to ignore after he'd caught me looking at him after the flight attendant had made such a show of flirting with him. He might be cute but it didn't make the action any less tasteless, being as she was obviously at least into her mid-thirties while he was still in his mid to late-teens.

Climbing quietly into the car as soon as the doors were unlocked and the luggage put into the trunk, I tried my best to ignore the awkward silence as we were driven to the housing we would be sharing for the next several weeks.

This is no longer a two-shot. Expect more chapters at irregular intervals. I have decided to bite the bullet and just make it into the full-length story it wants to be. Maybe this way the story will let me finish writing it instead of arguing so much.