I woke up at about quarter to seven. I searched in all the recesses of my mind, all but nothing. I was blank. I couldn't find my senses, my emotions or my reflexes. Simply nothing. Although, I thanked God that the nothingness was so overwhelming that it did give way for a significant emotion which was enough to rouse sanity and reflexes.

Fear.

I blinked, and sat up. The movement dewed up heavy drops of tears in the rims of my eyes. Restlessness overpowered me, shadowing my fear. I threw the blanket off of me and ran to the balcony.

As soon as I opened the door, ice-cold breezes hit me like iron girders --which was good. It helped me clear my mind.

For a long time, I felt that the dream world was real. As if the real world had ceased to exist.

I inhaled deeply, staring at the sky. Although the sky was black now, blue was in its deepest shade. And if one observed intently, blue appeared to be in patches, like ink spread on a dark cloth.

Amid the sparkling stars, I longed to see something of which I had no idea. Something perhaps vital enough, it might help solve the mystery my dreams or vivid nightmares had become for me.

My search came up fruitless.

I had begun to have these nightmares since we had started leaving for Alaska. Back then, they weren't so coherent and neither were they scary. Just very hazy and confusing and far in between during the last two months I spent in L. A before moving. I could count the four times on my fingers, each lasting barely seconds.

I just passed it off as anxiety towards leaving and fear of change. When we arrived in Alaska, they stopped for a whole month. I deemed my problem looked into and solved and moved on. But just as the first week of the second month came, I woke up screaming my lungs out and reducing to a blubbering mess in my mother's arms for the whole night.

I didn't sleep in my room after that for a week.

Then, as the month progressed, everything began to change. The nightmares became clearer, longer... scarier. They began to increase their rate of repetition until I came to having them every night. Or twice if I could bring myself to sleep after the first one.

Alternatively, I had another word for them.

Visions.

What I had been seeing was not a complete dream. I couldn't believe it to be a dream. It was too realistic and sharp to be conjured up even by the most imaginative of minds. I could feel, touch, smell and hear everything with a clarity similar to the real world. But I had no control over myself. It was like I was reliving my decisions. Or someone else's. Either way, it was real and no one could convince me other wise.

The vision, it was scattered --in pieces. Completely senseless. Nevertheless, it felt so real... almost like reliving a dreadful past --vicious and terrifying.

Despite the facts, I couldn't possibly link them to my past.

I had grown up in a small, but loving and wealthy household. I never suffered from any sort of trauma. I had all the friends I could ever need. I didn't lack anything in the emotional and physical up-bringing by my parents. They always paid attention to me and cared for me. I couldn't fathom why I was having such petrifying dreams or what they were related to.

Were they even connected to me? Or were they meant for someone else? Did they even mean something?

So many questions, but no one to answer.

Each image had flickered in and out like a slide show on a projector. Yet, I was able to grasp even the most minute of details, emotions and sounds.

Flick.

A blinding flash of white light.

Flick.

A dark forest with tall trees and grassy floor. The canopies touched the sky, not allowing a single ray of light to pass through with me trapped in its midst. The air was moist and disturbingly still. I could feel my throat closing up as perspiration slowly matted the nape of my neck and forehead. It had felt like a prison in there. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No air to breathe. What I was hiding from? I didn't know.

Flick.

A huge ballroom of a ruined, old estate... bathed in blood. Blood of innocent people. I don't know how I knew, I just did. Candles' flames' quivered and the pin drop silence let me listen to the winds whooshing through hollow logs and broken windows and chimneys. The sound chilled me to the bone.

And then it was like I went blind. Everywhere I tried to look, there was that never ending abyss. I began to turn hot and sweaty as it pressed down on me. All senses then abruptly heightened to compensate for sight. I could smell the repugnant smell of decaying flesh, drying blood and something else I couldn't place a name onto.

Even as I recalled it on the balcony, I could still smell it. It felt like I could, it was that strong and foul. With the cold and clear night air rushing in and out of my lungs, I still cringed and felt nauseous.

The last vision also had a background score.

First, I heard the voices of a few people talking, though it remained fuzzy like a radio station with horrible frequency. I couldn't pick out a single word of their conversations. All I could tell was that the man's voice was strained while a woman spoke hoarsely, as if suffering from mental distress.

Then came the high note of the symphony.

An encore of ear-splitting screams of a young girl followed by her staggering wails of pain and despair. Then finally, the most appalling laugh of an old woman followed to end it all.

It gave me a shudder just to have an echo of it in my mind as I recollected it from memory. There was insanity, nefariousness and fractals of abhorrence leaking through that sickening, shrill laughter.

Like she had achieved what she had wanted.

However, it was pointless and absurd to dwell on something that scared me as well as made no sense no matter what angle it was seen from. I was haunted enough in my sleep, I didn't need to be haunted during conscience. In reality, where I have the power and control to push them away, I should do just that rather than recalling them.

They could rule my dreams, but I wouldn't let them rule me.

I got out of my musings when my teeth began to chatter and I realized I was standing in a tank and shorts on a biting cold and windy night. Profanities begged to roll out my tongue as I rushed into the warmth of my room and locked the glass-doors behind me.

I let out a loud, shaky exhale as I stared at the wooden floor which gave a dull shine under the light. I gave myself a couple of seconds to pull together all the emotions and thoughts I'd let run wild, before heading for the bathroom.

After freshening up, I brushed my hair and -just to occupy myself- made an intricate, loose halo braid out of my hair.

It worked. But only for fifteen minutes, as I couldn't drag it on any longer.

With a defeated sigh as I placed the last of the bobby pins in, I gave a glance to my crestfallen face. I perked up slightly when I caught sight of the pretty hair-do. I always did love to decorate. Be it a place, myself or others.

I was just going over myself when my eyes found their own reflection. My usually milky eyes were looking sharper because of the dark bags beneath them. And that was the weird thing about them --other than their colour.

Now, they weren't white like a haunting spirit or those blind, creepy men in scary movies -although I'd been referred to them more often than not- but they had a silvery sheen to them with shards of slate and a black ring around the lens, that kept them from making my eyeballs look iris-less.

While having milky eyes was a strange thing within itself -as no one in my family ever possessed this colour, nor did any other living human being I'd come across- the thing that was even stranger was the fact that instead of looking dull with sleep, they shone bright like a full moon through a patch of clouds --the clouds being the dark circles beneath them.

They glowed eerily, their lucency never ceased. If I'd had a sour day, or I was feeling unwell or even if I was extremely exhausted and sleepy to the point of passing out, they'd still glow brighter than the full moon on a starless sky.

From pre-school, and throughout elementary school, everyone -and I mean everyone, even the principal and teachers- kept staring at them, the kids kept asking questions about them.

I was sick and tired of all the taunts and torments about how I was a witch in disguise or a weirdo or some magician, so as soon as I got in high school, contacts became my best friend.

Every single day since then I had to wear contacts to conceal the odd colour, and I had never been more peaceful since then.

I just shook my head then, emerging out of my thoughts with a quiet sigh and went to my bedside table to get my phone. I needed to call mom.

I unlocked the device and realised it's thirty minutes before nine. It made me wonder how long I'd spent pondering. Seeing no point in bothering mom as she had to get off work in half an hour anyway, I tucked the phone away in my back pocket and decided to head downstairs.

I was bare-foot as the wooden floors were warm and padded down the stair at a leisurely pace as I took in the open-plan first floor.

My mom had good taste in just about everything. With that being said, our home looked nothing less than a movie set for the shooting of a billion dollar movie. Although, the main thing would have to be the fact that mom still managed to make it look homey with the amount of expensive furniture and modern appliances around the house.

Still, nothing -not even the warmth and comfort of my own home- could put me at ease of the growing unease I felt. My breathing began to quicken, my body tensed and my heart thudded loudly in my chest. I felt like I was being watched.

Logical explanation would be that I was just paranoid after my little episode upstairs. After all, it's a fact that something impactful does linger in your mind. Just like watching a horror movie and then being scared to go downstairs in the kitchen to have a glass of water.

Though truth was that I knew better.

I knew that this had nothing to do with me getting frightened from the nightmare. There was definitely something out there.

Something was terribly wrong.

I could feel it in every nerve ending of my body and was petrified of the gut feeling that told me I was vulnerable tonight. Alone and scared in my very own, very safe and built-in security installed house.

I walked casually to the kitchen, kept my phone on the counter top and went to take out a water bottle from the refrigerator.

If something really was out there, I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of its presence. That would give it more incentive to approach me, which I didn't want tonight... or ever for that matter.

I took out a glass from one of the cabinets and put it on the counter gently. Though in reality, I wanted to bang it really loudly. The silence was too uncanny. The anticipation was eating me alive knowing something bad was close.

I poured the water in the glass to the brim, enjoying the soothing sound, and kept the bottle back inside the fridge. I walked back to the counter and sat down on the glossy red parlour stool, taking a long, retiring sip.

I stared out the glass wall on my right, observing the woods in the dark which were only a short walk away from the glass patio doors. I could just barely make out the branches of the tall trees and bushes in the starting line.

It was quite peaceful. Though at the same time, it was a bit unsettling. I could see the trees dancing back and forth in the wind and could estimate just how cuttingly windy it was tonight.

I picked up the glass but just as I was about to drink from it, my nose crinkled from a foul smell. I knelt in my seat -face down- and gagged as I put the glass back down quickly, trying to settle my stomach.

Once I felt a bit better, I stopped panting from my mouth and took a few, small sniffs --cautious of the smell.

I frowned. The smell was gone.

Heaving while getting upright in my seat, I closed my eyes with relief and just breathed in deeply.

I froze mid-breath, spine rigid. Once again, I could slightly pick up on that putrid smell again. Only this time, I recognized the smell.

Congealed blood.

My eyes popped open and fell on the glass of water in front of me. There was no longer water in it. It was filled with... a thick, reddish-brown paste. Yes, a red paste. That's what it was. Because I refused to acknowledge what really was within the glass.

Staring at it, I first weighed the option of hallucinating, but quickly dismissed it. I was not insane. I contemplated on whether to pick up the cursed glass and check to make sure. But I was scared. Scared witless, actually.

I bit my lip, and blinked repeatedly, trying to make my vision stop from shaking. After a moment, I realized it was in fact, my body that was shaking, not my sight.

Gulping, I exhaled shakily and raised my trembling hand towards the glass. Half way reaching it, I took a couple of deep breaths and waited until the tremors ceased. As soon as my hand was stable, I grabbed the glass, feeling how chilled it was. I tightened my fingers around it and picked it up, bringing it close to me.

I jiggled it a little to notice that the blood hardly moved and was of sickly colour and odour. I could taste the bile rising up my throat.

Abruptly, my mind flashed to a gory scene from one of my nightmares. Unable to take in the sight of it anymore, I quickly stood up and threw the glass hard on the floor, shattering it into bloody pieces while the blood splattered on the floor near by the shards scattered on the floor.

I balled my hands into tight fists, clenching my jaw as I glared at the mess, as if boring my eyes into it long enough would make it disappear.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

I froze, eyes widening. The sound was coming from outside the glass patio doors, like someone was tapping a pebble against it in slow, dead beats.

I felt goosebumps raise along my neck down to my arms and legs as I began to feel my heart beat painfully hard in my chest. Sweat rose from the pores of my skin along my body, the hot droplets cooling instantly due to the chill in the atmosphere -even with the heating on- and making my frame shiver.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The tapping felt like it was beckoning me, asking me to heed its heinous call. I straightened up, and stiffly turned my head toward the see-through wall. The lights went out just then. I gasped in shock, and quickly looked around me to see the whole house plunged into utter silence and darkness.

A sense of foreboding washed over me as I heard the wind cease outside. I swallowed hard, and slowly turned back to look at the wall to see it getting frosted over from the outside. My heart stilled. But not because of the now, completely misted glass wall. But because of the blurry silhouette standing right outside it.

I felt my heart palpitate as I shook like a leaf and watched her -it seemed like a female from what I could tell from the fogged up glass- place her palm against the wall. She moved it away slowly, leaving her hand-print on it and with her index finger, began to write something in swirls and curls to the letters in an elegant script.

I didn't focus on the words, all I could see was the black finger moving soundlessly against the surface of the glass in unhurried, careless motions.

The finger withdrew and suddenly disappeared, and just then, the lights came back on, making me flinch. My eyes narrowed against the harsh light and I relaxed a little, taking it as a good omen.

However, just then, every little fibre of relief was stripped off me and I was left bare before I was robed in terror and fright instead.

My eyes widened in utter horror as I focused on the words, the figure having long disappeared.

Happy to have you back home, sweetheart.

That felt like a sick joke. No, it felt even worse. For a moment, the logical part of me almost convinced me that it was a bunch of stupid kids who decided to place a prank together to scare me.

Anger rushed into me when I considered the possibility. It wasn't a far-fetched hunch either, which strengthened my resolve. I walked over to the wall, as it slowly started to clear away again and decided I was ready to give whoever it was who had planned this fiasco a piece of my mind. But I stopped just as I reached the smooth, clear glass, my eyes catching onto something.

In the reflection of the wall, I caught sight of the bloody floor and shiny glass shards. I released a shuddering breath, my anger a distant memory as I realised my guess was very, very wrong.

My eyes zeroed in on the hand-print -which had yet to fade- and almost unconsciously, I placed my palm against it.

I shivered when I felt a zap against my palm which sent ice cold throughout my veins, freezing me in place. I gasped at the feel and felt my eyes lose focus as the image before me faded into a blur.

Seconds after, my eyes gained proper sight again and the first thing I saw was a face directly in front of me.

It was a man who seemed to be in his late twenties with snow white skin and golden blonde locks combed to the side neatly. His face was angular and clean-shaved. His thin lips were set in a grim line and his murky green eyes seemed to be studying me through the professional-looking, black-rimmed spectacles.

His thin, light brown brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting down to the left as he shook his head.

"She's dead." He said smoothly, but in a very severe voice.

I gasped and my eyes widened as I felt like I just resurfaced back from the depths of the water after being in there longer than my lungs could take. I flinched and blinked, the guy disappearing and my sight returning back to my hand on the glass wall in kitchen.

I began to tremble in fear, eyes still wide as I took in what I saw.

Dead? Who was dead? I'm still alive! I'm not dead!

I heard a footstep behind me, which broke me out of my crazed thoughts. I looked in the glass and felt my being turn immobile when I saw a girl's silhouette standing behind the mess of blood and broken glass. I couldn't see what her clothes were, or the colour of her hair and skin. All I could tell was that she was a girl. And I had a nagging suspicion that she was the same girl who wrote the message on the patio wall.

A girl in my kitchen while I'm here, home alone.

I heard her heels tap as she gracefully stepped over the mess and once again resumed her standstill posture, seeming to be focused on me. I was so scared at this point, I was ready to ball like a baby. I bit my lip to keep my fearful whimpers inside and not let her know I was terrorized beyond belief with her mere presence behind me.

She began to walk again, slow and taunting, as if she wanted me to be afraid of her and make a run for my life.

Yet, I stayed, my body jammed in its spot and my eyes stuck to her approaching figure. I was sure I'd lose sanity any coming minute, because her plan seemed to be working. Her slow stroll to me was making a hundred and one thoughts run through my mind per second of what was to be expected as soon as she came within touching vicinity, none of them easing my mind or my fears.

She stopped right behind me and I caught a whiff of her scent. My eyes watered. She reeked of Casablanca Lily.

Having many perfumes and body products scented similarly, I was well-versed with the fragrance. I loved the nocturnal flower. I found its scent intoxicating.

But she was practically drenched in it. It was too sickly, making bile rise up my throat. I had a sudden urge to throw up, but I held it in. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be using the fragrance for a long, long time now.

Cold radiated off of her being -if that was even possible- and I almost shivered, feeling it soak up in my bones.

Suddenly, I was sure of something in that moment with appalling clarity.

I'll be dying tonight.

Author's Note:

Hey guys! It's been what? Two years since I last updated?! I know! And I'm so sorry!

I first started this story when I newly joined wattpad. But I guess I couldn't motivate myself to write more, even though I had it all planned out ages ago. It's my very first story, I penned the first draft on paper first. And I never typed it up here further than the first chapter.

But I want to change that now. I'd like to finish it. And I won't let myself be disappointed by the lack of people reading, voting or commenting on it because I think it's a great story, which needs to be completed. I'll try and be regular to update.

IF SOMEONE STILL HAS THIS IN THEIR LIBRARY, I'll be more than surprised, lol. And I would thank them, for not giving up on me. So, thank you. Take care and let me know how you liked the chapter.

Lastly, I dedicate this to @Rasheliz for encouraging me to go on, even if it was months later that I updated :P Thanks, girl (: