Untapped: Warrior Within

By Jessica Preston

Alexa doesnt think too much about her lifestyle nor why she cant seem to remember her parents, who support her from a distance. But everything changes when she is fatally shotand lives.

Just when things cant get any stranger, she runs into her long-lost uncleone she cant ever recall meeting. What he tells her reveals the strange phenomenon behind her survival, and it turns her entire life completely upside down.

Faced with an ominous threat due to her unnatural burden, Alexa searches for the truth of her parents whereabouts, questioning her own past in the process. But will everything she has be enough to stand her ground? Or will it cost her life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524529581

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Darkness surrounded me completely, making me stand in a barren wasteland. I spun around and turned my head this way and that, looking for something to get me out of this ominous black. I didn’t even know how I ended up here or why the heck I was alone. I swear I was with someone. Or something. But no one stood anywhere. The silence was becoming too much to bear.

Please…, I pleaded. I don’t want to be here. Someone, anyone, help!

The continuous quiet was my only response. It sent chills up and down my spine, the loneliness making it seem like anything would jump out and drag me further into the darkness. I tried walking along some invisible path in search of some sign of safety, but I only ended up without a sense of direction and stopped in what seemed like the same place I started in.

I wanted to shout. Run. Do something that just might get someone’s attention. Yet I knew there would be no point in any of it. I was alone, haunted by what I couldn’t see lurking all around me, just waiting for the right time to pounce.

I tried to swallow down the fear. I crossed my arms to rid myself of the inner chill seeping through me. And for the longest moment of my life, I stood there, thinking that I would remain here in the shadows. Alone. Just waiting for some sort of sign . . .

Then that’s when I saw it. From the corner of my eye, something glowed. A brilliant blue light that penetrated the thick dark fog. I whipped around to face it, caught mesmerized by its radiance.

It was strange as I turned to face a small glowing orb, floating in midair on its own as if held by an invisible rope. It stayed gracefully still, as if waiting for me to approach it.

I gave a glance over my shoulder, unsure what the heck this thing was and seeing if anything else was around me. I then faced back forward, that glowing orb being the only thing here other than myself.

With nervous steps I walked toward the peculiar light. Something inside me still felt scared, distrusting whatever was in front of me. Yet that feeling slowly started to melt away as the distance between it and me became smaller. That’s when I felt… stronger. Happier. Finding this lost hope that seemed to be gone in the murky black around me.

I stepped further into its halo of light, engulfed by a sense of security. I stopped inches away from the orb, just staring at it with some sort of familiarity. I’ve never even seen this thing before. Just seconds ago, I didn’t trust it. But now… something about its light started to bring back a fragment of glass from the mirror that was my mind. As if a memory I never recalled was now finding its way back to me.

You are special…, someone said in the back of my mind. One day, you’ll see and realize why . . .

A familiar name lingered at the tip of my tongue. With a delicate hand, I started to reach out toward the orb, whispering, Mom . . . ?

Before my hand even touched the orb, it vanished. Its soothing light was gone, letting the darkness reclaim its territory.

Then fiery orange eyes were staring back at me, glazed in hatred. I never had the chance to run before I felt something penetrate my chest.

1

I bolt upright from the comfort of my mattress. Sunlight streams in through the blinds of my window, as if getting rid of the remains of the dark.

I wait for my breath to slow and give myself a moment to realize that I’m in my room. Away from the orb and away from those horrifying eyes . . .

Thank God it was just a dream.

I run a hand through my tangled hair, wiping away the small droplets of sweat that sit on my forehead. I’m glad to finally be free of that nightmare, looking forward to a nice, bright sunny day.

I turn my head to my clock on my nightstand, taking note of the time that’s displayed in bright green digits.

Eight thirty in the morning.

Then I look over at my calendar next to the small digital box and notice the date that’s highlighted.

Monday January 20, 2014.

The two pieces of information slam together instantly as a wave of realization pierces through me.

School! Crap!

I throw the sheets off me and immediately move briskly through my morning routine. I grab a pair of jeans, a purple T-shirt, and a pair of socks from my drawers, without a single care of how I dress, and carry them with me to the bathroom. I quickly change out of my blue pajamas and into my other clothes, leaving my sleepwear on the floor in a slump. I just go on with brushing my teeth, untangling my golden wavy hair, and double-checking to see if I look presentable enough. I give a short nod to my reflection in approval and bolt out back into the hallway toward the main floor of my small town apartment.

When I reach the small kitchen, I head to the fridge without question and pull out a frozen waffle from its box in the freezer, dropping it into the toaster to cook. While I wait for my instant breakfast, I run over to the back door closet and pull out a pair of black tennis shoes, slipping them on without undoing the laces first.

Why the heck did I sleep in! I think. I’m screwed!

When I hear the pop of the toaster from back in the kitchen, I finish putting on my other shoe and sprint back into the other room to grab my breakfast. Stupid in my morning frenzy, I pull it out when it’s still hot. The instant burning sensation spreads throughout my hand as I drop it on the counter.

"GAH! Stupid freakin’—ugh!" I mutter to myself, waving my hand rapidly to cool it off.

My head raises and turns over to the stove clock to see that it’s already eight fifty.

School begins in ten minutes.

I pick up the waffle and shove it into my mouth without another thought and rush back to the back door, picking up my black backpack along the way as I head out into the small garage.

Leaning on the wall to the side is my purple and white bike, which I dart over to, and I quickly equip the helmet onto my head. Dragging my bike with me outside through the side door, I hop onto the bike seat and begin to pedal furiously along the sidewalk in the direction of my school.

Great, I’m so late. I shake my head in disgrace. Nice going, Alexa. Thanks so much for setting up the alarm . . .

I sneak into my chatty math classroom as I try to mask my panting. The bell rang almost ten minutes ago. I couldn’t have been later.

Making my way over to my seat, I silently sit down and place my bag on the floor next to me, glancing around to see if anyone noticed my sudden arrival. Everyone seems to be ignoring me, as usual. I manage to let out a brief sigh of relief as I treasure the moment of being invisible.

Well, well, well… late again, Miss Johnson?

I flinch at the sound of my last name, feeling a weight drop into my gut.

So, so screwed.

I slowly turn to face Mrs. Banks, who glares down at me with a displeased expression on her face.

Mrs. Banks is a woman who’s only in her forties but dresses as if she were older. She even looks more like a librarian than a math teacher with her orange floral sweater and long brown skirt, complete with her outdated silver glasses and pointed black flats. It seems to match perfectly with her short brown hair.

Completely out of style.

Bleh.

Oh, uh… hi, Mrs. Banks, I say with a small raise of my hand. She doesn’t return the gesture as she crosses her bony arms. I move my hand to scratch the back of my head instead. So, uh, I, uh… I was late because—

Save it for later, Miss Johnson. I’m tired of your excuses. I’m sure your neighbor’s cat wasn’t stuck in a tree again, she interrupts curtly, not giving me a chance to say anything.

Yet she already predicted my tale.

But, Mrs. Banks, I…, I start again, trailing off. I can’t think of anything in time before I’m cut off again.

Like I said, save it for later. You already have a free ticket with the janitor during lunch this afternoon. She adjusts her glasses. I hope you weren’t looking forward to any plans.

I sigh and look down, wanting to just bang my head against the desk.

All right… I understand…, I reply reluctantly.

Good. Count yourself lucky. Next time, I won’t be so merciful. She uncrosses her arms to rest them on her hips. Should serve as a reminder to start being responsible and coming here on time.

I just nod in agreement with defeat over my head before she makes her way to the front of the classroom, calling out for silence. I rest my cheek on the palm of my upraised hand as I focus my gaze to the whiteboard.

Yep. I was right. Not only am I screwed, but I have a feeling that today isn’t going to be the greatest . . .

It hasn’t even begun.

2

After going through hours of typical daily torture, I’m finally free from the prison that is my school.

I haven’t been having the most joyous time in my classes ever since what happened in math. The lectures and quizzes aren’t what’s bothering me but the fact that all of my teachers decided to pick on me relentlessly throughout the day. Back to back from each class, I am called on without being prepared, yelled at for doing nothing, and given an individual lecture after class for who knows what. I am actually a little more than relieved to escape and work with the janitor during lunch. It isn’t at all bad. I’m just thankful that he doesn’t yell at me.

Though, in general, the days are hard to get by. Everyone around me is either a complete stranger or just another common face that I happen to see around campus. None know my name just the same. I’m often known as the girl who keeps quiet and never bothers to branch out to anyone. I only have three close pals, whom I never get to see during the day. They’re busy, and all have different schedules from me. The only time I can see them is on the weekends, where we would meet up at our local park without our military class schedules to separate us. I wish we could see each other more often though.

After the long bike ride back home, or rather to my apartment, I drag in my bike and park it along the wall of the small garage. Removing my helmet, I set it on the bike handle, then make my way inside and into my room. I remove the bag from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor as I stride over to my bed and collapse on top of it without a single care.

Fatigue claws at me. Never have I wanted to sleep so badly in ages. I just want to close my eyes and escape my life. Let myself succumb to sleep and not worry about anything regarding reality.

I start to doze off on my soft mattress just at the thought of it. How my day sucked.

For a minute, I forget the reason why I was late. Then, of course, I realize I overslept. But there was a dream I had that was… weird. Something about an orb, then . . .

I don’t remember the rest. I just mentally shrug it off as I continue to sink into sleep. That’s all I want right now—sleep.

Before I even get the chance, I jolt immediately as I hear the irksome ringing of the phone go off.

Now what… ? I moan. I manage to push myself up on my feet and make my way to the closest phone. The only one I have is in the kitchen, so I briskly make my way out into the hall and grab it off the kitchen counter. I squint my tired eyes down at the screen, which reads, Clarkson in clear dark digits.

Clarkson. The last name of one of my closest friends. Rarely does she call my home phone. She usually just shoots me a text or something.

I guess today’s different.

I furrow my eyebrows in curiosity as I press the talk button and raise the small device up to my ear.

Hello?

Hey, Alexa! How’s it going?

The high-pitched cheerful voice catches me off guard, and I flinch slightly. There is no mistake that it definitely belongs to Jennifer Clarkson, one of the only friends I have. I can imagine her long dark hair pulled back by a blue headband on top of her head, her caramel arms covered by a gray long-sleeved shirt to match the blue skinny jeans around her waist. I can picture the beige boots that cover her small feet.

This was what she was wearing the last time I saw her walking across campus today, her hazel eyes focused on the path ahead of her as she carried books in her hands.

Oh, hey, Jennifer. I’m just chilling out, I reply casually. How’s it going for you?

Just the usual. Work, violin practice, studying. Nothing exciting, she says, fatigue from the day still lingering in her voice.

Ah. So… what did you call about? Need help or something?

I would’ve expected her to ask for assistance on an assignment of some sort, which is what she would typically ask. Instead, it turns out to be something completely different.

"I was actually going to ask if you wanted to see the new movie. That horror one that just came out, Friend or Foe?"

Oh yeah, I heard about that one. Heard it was pretty good.

Yeah! So, did you want to come see it with the group? This Friday, at seven?

It’s been a while since an offer like this has come up. I myself am free a majority of the time, but I ponder the thought as if I have something planned. I can’t help but look over at the calendar that hangs on the wall next to the microwave beside me.

Um…, I say as I check the date. Friday… right?

Yeah. Did you want to go over it with your parents real quick?

I hesitate. Nah. They’re… out of town, as usual. I think they’ll be okay with me going. I have nothing planned, I tell her.

Oh. All right. Well, great! I can’t wait to see you then.

Uh, yeah. You too.

Then after two brief goodbyes, Jennifer and I hang up. I place the phone down in its holder before I leave and head back into the comfort of my room.

I lie back down on my bed and just stare up at the ceiling. No one else lives in this apartment with me. My parents are never around. They’ve been gone for a long time. I wonder every now and then when they will come back… from wherever they are. I usually assume that they’re on a business trip, but I’m never entirely certain. They never call, never e-mail. They’re out of touch. They never even told me anything before they left… Then again, it’s hard to remember when they even left . . .

I remember seeing them deposit money into my account every once in a while when I am running low, but that’s about it. I know that they might be busy out there, working their butts off. Yet it worries me that I never get to see them. Or hear from them. It’s been so long that whenever I try to think of them . . .

I bury my head in my pillow as a small headache begins to spread. How I hate the aching pain in my skull, like a weight balancing on top of my head.

I leap off the bed and head for my trusty medicine cabinet. I don’t get headaches as often as I used to, but every once in a while it comes back. I just take medicine for it, and it would be gone as soon as it came.

My parents must have known about my headache problems, because they gave me these prescription pills to help ease the pain. I remember them leaving a note telling me to take it whenever the headaches start. It’s been helping ever since.

Swallowing down the prescriptive pill, I think back to Jennifer’s invitation. At least I now have something to look forward to at the end of the week. I just have to push through school. Get it over with. Be good.

If I can do that, then I’m sure I can do it for the rest of the year as well. Whatever helps to get me by.

Until my parents return, that is. If only I know when that will be . . .

3

All right, class. Pull out the worksheet from yesterday and start working on it. It will be due by Monday.

The typical monotonous tone of my science teacher obviously reflects his evident fatigue. Never has he shown much spirit in his classes, and I don’t think he ever will. He’s probably the most boring teacher I’ve ever known. I lost track of how many times I’ve dozed off in the middle of one of his lectures . . .

With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly pull out the worksheet and begin to scribble down my answers. It’s finally the last period of the day, and as usual, I’m stuck with science. I very much dislike it, for it doesn’t really strike my interest. A majority of my classes never have my interest from the start. I’d rather be home, where I can do whatever I please, rather than be stuck within a classroom full of fellow complaining peers. Who don’t bother to even attempt the work that is placed in front of them unless they can grab the answers from a friend. Luckily, I prefer to work on my own. Even though I can’t care less about the material, I still do it regardless.

I continue to answer the questions until I hear zippers on backpacks zip up. The common indication that the period will soon be over. As I glance up at the clock, its black skinny hands show two fifty-eight behind its reflective glass covering. School itself will be out at three.

It looks like our teacher lost track of time. Again. He always seems to be a few minutes off every Friday.

Packing up, I remain within my seat and wait for the bell. My classmates gaze up at the clock with anticipation for their release as they start to whisper their countdown. A Friday tradition.

I only listen, patiently waiting for this day to end.

The shrill noise then erupts, disrupting the calm classroom environment.

All at once, each and every student immediately stands up from their chairs and files out the door with their bags on their backs. Once the traffic clears, I am the last to leave. I say my normal thank-you to the teacher before I step out the doorway that separates the stuffy classroom from the fresh open outdoors.

The main quad buzzes with chatter as friends begin to meet up in large groups to discuss their weekend plans. All of them seem to be excited for whatever they have in store. I can’t help but be excited for my own little event as well, because today happens to be the day that Jennifer and the others will go to see the newly released film, and I’m invited along. Just thinking about it makes me rush over to the front of the school, where the ancient flagpole stands with our much appreciated flag of freedom high in the air.

Over by the stone base of the pole, I already spot one of my familiar companions standing tall with cheerfulness as she patiently awaits her assembled group. As I approach, her eyes eventually turn in my direction, a smile forming across her face.

Yo, Alexa! she calls out. She raises her arms in the air and begins to wave at me like a maniac.

She always seems like she’s beaming with energy. Always animated and silly whenever she’s finally free from the prison of academics. That’s Jennifer for you. I replicate her smile as I come over beside her.

What up, Jennifer, I say casually, lifting my hand up for her to happily slap it. Our normal high fives usually complete every greeting and every farewell that we have, and so it became our little thing. Something only we do that would feel strange if we don’t.

As I then shove my hands into my pockets, Jennifer begins to tell me about what our plans for the evening will be like. She explains how we’ll walk over to the theater as soon as Sara and Jen (our other companions) come. Then we’ll kick back and watch the film, then walk back home together when it ends. With the plan clear, we both start to wait for the remaining two to arrive.

After about five minutes, we spot the long-awaited duo making their way toward us. I raise my hand in greeting to them, happy to see them after so long. Both of their eyes catch my hand, and they start to give small waves back. The faster, more animated wave belongs to the shortest member of our group, Sara. Her brown hair is braided back behind her to reveal more of the cheerful hazel in her eyes, a bright green sweatshirt making her stand out with her white skinny jeans and gray sneakers.

The taller one who walks in stride beside her is none other than Jen.

Her more calm greeting expresses how tired she looks, but nonetheless she is still excited to be meeting up with the rest of us. She briefly pulls back a strand of her crimson hair to show her chill blue eyes. She then lets her black-gloved hands hang down by her sides again as she walks casually over to us in her comfortable gray sweatpants and black long-sleeved T-shirt. Her tan-colored tennis shoes then come to a stop in front of me as Sara stops in front of Jennifer.

Hey, guys! Sara greets.

Hola, Jen says, leaving out the effort to include the accent. Jennifer and I respond.

So, we’re all here. Great! Jennifer clarifies. Is everyone ready to get going then?

I am, I announce. I’ve suffered for too long in this freaking prison. Let’s get going!

Right behind ya, Jen agrees.

No longer wanting to remain on school grounds, we take our leave and head for downtown, where the theater awaits us.

The large entrance lobby is swarming with people, lively with upbeat conversations. Long lines to the snack bars on our left. Fleets of stairs and movie showrooms to our right. I wonder how many people will be seeing the same film as us. Hopefully there will be enough seating available so we can get good spots.

As soon as we walk through the doors, Jennifer and Sara instantly volunteer to go get some snacks, as Jen and I go to get our seats. Before we even begin to make our way to the showroom, the other two are already in line with cash in hand. Jen starts to make silly remarks about their love for theater snacks and creates scenarios about how they would leap into any line that holds the sweets they favor so much. I chuckle and add in on her stories as we enter the theater room and claim four good seats in the center row.

As we lean back and watch the advertisements play upon the large screen in front of us, we save the two other spots for Sara and Jennifer until they arrive with a bag of popcorn and a tray with four icy slushies. I’m given the only cherry within the four as the other three are cotton candy flavored.

When drinks have been handed out, Sara and Jennifer take their seats and turn to Jen and I to tell us something.

All right, guys, we created a challenge, Jennifer begins. "This film is supposed to be extremely, and I mean extremely, scary. So if anyone screams or tries to run out, then no one gets to come to the next movie."

I know she’s only teasing, but I accept the challenge anyway.

I’m warning you all that I am one hard person to scare, Jen states. If anyone can last as long as me, and beat me, then I’ll admit the new fearless champion in our group.

Oh, it’s on, Jen! Sara challenges enthusiastically. I’m so going to beat you all.

I’d like to see you try, Jennifer playfully scoffs.

It’s amusing to see everyone take part in the competition that’s just established, even myself. I can’t help but grin as they continue to talk on about who’ll win and who’ll fail. For a moment, my attention slowly turns away to the big screen, the advertisements still rolling by. I watch for a while when I notice movement from the corner of my eye. Curious, I turn.

From behind the wall that hides the ramp entrance, there’s a small part of a dark figure peeking around behind it. They don’t seem to want to enter any further as they are just standing there. For a moment, I think that they are looking up in my direction. I expect them to wave at someone behind me or something, thinking they’re looking for a friend. Yet they don’t. A small chill crawls up my arms as I feel as if their gaze is glued onto me. Then, before I can try and make out their face in the dim lighting of the theater, they turn around and leave. My eyes remain at the very spot where the figure stood, somehow feeling that the presence was… ominous.

It’s a silly thought. I barely even saw them. But I start wondering, how long were they standing there before they left? It didn’t seem like a brisk entrance and exit to me. And why wear a hood inside? The theater, for the most part, is already dark . . .

I suddenly feel someone nudge my arm, and I turn to Jen beside me.

Whatcha looking at? she asks.

Oh. I just saw someone. I look back for a second, the hooded figure not returning. Probably looking for somebody.

As the room then darkens and the screen curtains move further aside, Jen and I face back forward to watch the trailers begin. I didn’t give a second thought as to who that person was or why it felt like they were looking directly at me . . .

The movie just ended after two hours of surprise and horror. I’m still shivering from certain scenes that continue to replay in my mind, the others slightly wide-eyed. Jen, however, proudly keeps her head up as she obviously didn’t lose her title of being the fearless queen. Sara is definitely no match for her nerves of steel, and no one else will be challenging her again after seeing what we had just seen tonight.

Wow… quite a movie, huh, Jennifer says, still carrying that sense of fear with her.

I can’t believe I sat through the whole thing, Sara mutters. I admit that I was genuinely surprised by her capability to keep herself within her seat the entire time. Though I, on the other hand, loosened up more and am able to smile.

I gotta admit, though, I’m surprised no one ran out of the room, I say. Jen is the only one that looked as if she were about to fall asleep.

Yeah, Jen responds proudly. I told you, guys, it takes more than that to scare me. That stuff is just child’s play.

How on earth are you even able to do that? Sara exclaims. You’re, like, invincible toward these things!

What can I say? I’ve seen worse.

Everyone, including myself, begins to talk about what Jen’s secrets to mastering her fearlessness are as we begin to make our trip home in the late evening light. Of course, Jen won’t reveal any of her tricks or tips to how she handles horror-themed shows or films, even when we persist. Maybe Jen’s just naturally not scared of anything. Or maybe she just learned how not to be so easily afraid. I don’t know how she could have accomplished that, but she’s always been so calm and collected. Very opposite from Jennifer and Sara, who bounce around like caffeinated kittens.

I admire Jen for that. I sometimes wonder if I can somehow be like her.

I doubt it. I used to not be scared of many things, but I’ve changed ever since living alone. I flinch at almost every little sound, and I triple-check that every door and window is locked. There’s no sense of ease at all. My friends are lucky that they have their parents around . . .

After walking through town and across the neighborhood park, the four of us reach the intersection of our neighborhoods.

Jen and Sara live on North Street dead ahead. Jennifer lives on Stoneridge Drive to our right. And I’m the one who lives in the apartment complex on Eastern Road to the left. All of which are in the same general area.

Before we split up to our respective neighborhoods, we all say our goodbyes and do our high-five farewells, promising to hang out again sometime soon.

With my bag still upon my back, I lift up my arms in a long stretch as fatigue from the long day finally gets to me. I just can’t wait to get home and plop down on the comfort of my mattress. To just sleep the rest of the day away and wake up to a morning with no school.

The fact is sure to make my rest more pleasurable.

Walking upon the concrete sidewalk in the direction of my home, I think back on certain scenes from the movie. The part where the killer unexpectedly ambushed the main character from a dark corner of an abandoned hospital. How the loved ones of the character were experiencing a creepy and deadly discussion over a Ouija board with the deceased in their home. How the victim from the very beginning had been followed with invisible yet audible ominous footsteps before they were slaughtered.

I can almost hear those similar footsteps behind me.

I shiver again as I try to not freak myself out. It had only been a movie. It’s not like it’s based off a true story. Paranormal stuff like that is just a bunch of myths. Tricks of the imagination. Entertainment for the mind.

When I glance down on the path beneath me as I walk, I notice that my shoe’s untied. I automatically stop and kneel down to fix the issue as I quickly untie the remaining knot and retie the laces more tightly.

The entire time, I can still hear those footsteps behind me. I shake my head once to hopefully forget the sound, but it doesn’t go away. One more time I try to ignore the sound.

But it still continues on.

I sigh. How long will that scene be stuck in my head?

As if to answer my question, the footsteps suddenly stop.

An unusual click comes shortly after.

I freeze as I finish the final knot, a tingle of unease dropping to my gut. Those sounds hadn’t been my imagination . . .

I look over my shoulder to find a hooded figure standing behind me. The same person from the theater, I realize. Their arm is extended directly toward me, but I don’t notice why as I slowly rise to my feet.

Not until I look down to see the silver glint of a handheld gun grasped within their hand.

Well, I finally found you, a voice speaks. It’s resonant. Unwelcoming. Threatening. I stand dead still, my throat closing up. My eyes don’t dare leave the pistol.

Their hand doesn’t move as their finger stays close to the trigger.

How long has it been? Five years maybe? I almost lost track, they go on. Though I see that you’ve changed a lot since I saw you last.

Confusion washes over me as I have no clue as to what this man is talking about.

I… I don’t think I… know you…, I tell him nervously.

This person could be drunk, I think. But his speech isn’t slurred, and his hand is perfectly steady. The fact makes me flinch at the click of his gun.

Well, I wouldn’t expect you to remember anyway, he says dismissively. It’s been a long time. I bet you forgot everything by now.

I scrunch my brows together. Forget what… ? I say, puzzled.

See, that’s exactly what I mean. But don’t worry. He raises the gun slightly. I’m sure you’ll remember something after tonight.

I swallow hard. I have absolutely no idea what this person is referring to. I’ve never even met him before. I especially don’t know why or what the reason is for him to be pointing a gun at me. But I know one thing.

This psycho’s going to shoot me one way or the other.

My heart begins to pound faster and faster as I try to think of a plan. I can’t risk heading to any of my friends’ places. Though town’s still close by. A police station is not too far away.

I need to get there.

Slowly and shakily, I remove my bag and set it down on the ground carefully, showing the man that I’m not attempting to pull out any device whatsoever. Then I stand tall once more as I feel cold sweat upon my forehead.

You need to run, now! my thoughts shout. Seconds tick by. Time’s not on my side.

Without another moment’s hesitation, I turn around and dart in the opposite direction just as his hand shifts. A loud crack tears through the air, the shot only inches off to my left as I keep running, not daring to stop.

Taking a sharp right, I run down the main street toward town. My legs propel themselves forward as my lungs burn, running faster than any mile I’ve ran in PE. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the killer appears in front of me. I nearly hurl myself backward on the concrete but manage to keep my feet firmly on the ground.

What the hell?

Before I can even react, he firmly grabs hold of my arm and forcefully pulls me over to slam my back against a worn-out wooden fence. He repositions his gun to aim directly at my chest.

You can’t run, the man says matter-of-factly. We already gave you enough time. Now, we see if you’re really worth all of this . . .

My heart thuds out of control against my chest, scared beyond anything I’ve been afraid of before. Thinking fast, I knee the psycho in the stomach. He releases his grasp and keels over from the sudden strike. Taking my chance, I continue to bolt down the street.

I then reach the familiar cluster of buildings of downtown after a brief head start away from the killer. I stop right before a crosswalk and briskly search for the nearest police station. One sits on the other side of the street behind two or three buildings in the distance.

I’m close.

I start pressing the crosswalk button furiously, desperately wanting the light to change white. I constantly look back over my shoulder as cars continue to zoom by.

Come on, dammit! I curse under my breath. I look back behind me again, and this time I see him coming.

What are you doing, Johnson? I yell mentally. GO!

Giving up on the crosswalk button, I take a risk and fly straight through the street. Cars screech to a stop and blare their horns at me, but I keep running.

Making it to the other side unscathed, I make a sharp left and continue to run toward the police station. A space between two buildings beckons to me as a shortcut, and I don’t think twice before heading down that path.

I continue to dash straight ahead until I realize the mistake of my decision.

It isn’t a shortcut but a dead end.

I stop immediately and look hopelessly at the stone wall that looms over me. There’s no way to climb it. No way to go around. No way to go through.

I curse again as I spin around to try and make it back out to the sidewalk. I barely even take a step when I see that the path ahead is already occupied. He holds the gun up high once more, and I can see the anger flash in his eyes from under his hood.

No use in running, Alexa, he says darkly. I wouldn’t try anything else if I were you.

I start stepping back, wanting to plead for my life. For him to leave me be.

W-who the heck are you? I say, my voice shaking.

He doesn’t answer.

The second crack of his gun stuns me as something punctures straight through my chest.

Then everything falls into darkness.

4

Strange noises swarm all around me. The traffic of cars is replaced with unfamiliar voices. Fast-paced steps echo on hard tile. The soft rhythm of a machine hums right by my ear.

My eyes slowly open to the blinding overhead lights of a ceiling. No open sky stretches above me. No concrete lies below. My body sluggishly pushes itself upright as I gaze around, clueless, at my surroundings.

Everything begins to set in as I realize that I’m somehow within a hospital bedroom. The medical gadgets and curtained-off entrance are unmistakable proof of where I am. Yet this isn’t where I had been originally, I know that much.

Wait… how did I get here? I wonder. I was just in town… running. Running from that guy . . .

My body goes rock still as the memory flashes within my mind. The encounter, the chase, the final gunshot in the alley. All of it led to darkness, which means nothing else but . . .

Confusion blows me back. I’m clearly alive, but . . .

How the heck am I alive?

My hand flies up to my chest to feel the comfort of a calm beat, still working as if nothing is wrong. My eyes glance down to see that blood is nowhere in sight. Bewilderment takes me aback, leaving me in a disturbing silence. Everything that happened wasn’t a dream. I felt the pain of the bullet puncture through my skin and flesh like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I was left to collapse with what felt like an eternal blackout. I should be dead. Gone.

But… here I am.

My hand stays upon my chest, unmoving. I can’t bring myself to believe that I’ve cheated death’s game. But then how? How am I even here with the awareness of my death without being dead?

Either I’m in a dream or going completely insane.

As I sit there, stuck in thought, something finds its way into the center of my thoughts—a blue light. What’s weird is that I remember seeing myself reaching out to it, the feeling of strength and power only fingertips away. But no matter how close I am, I still can’t reach it.

The thought disappears as I give my head a shake. I remember the dream I had before. That light was there. Though, why is my mind bringing it up again? In a situation like this, that should be the last thing I should be thinking about.

In my eternal daze, the swish of the curtains in front of me makes me jump as someone steps into the room.

Hey. You’re finally up.

The friendly tone of a man greets me as he steps inside the small space beside me. The long white coat and light blue uniform tell me he’s clearly one of the doctors working here. The round sharp glasses in front of his pale green eyes would have led to my assumption anyway.

Uh… I guess I am…, I say, my brain still sluggish and disoriented. Speaking to someone at this point leaves me dumbfounded.

So, you’re the kid my friend found downtown, huh? What’s your name? the man goes on.

Alexa.

Alexa? Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Bowman. He adjusts his glasses. I’m sure you have some questions to ask, and I’ll need to ask you some things as well. So why don’t we get straight to business.

Doctor Bowman takes a seat on a small cushion stool and pulls out a clipboard from the inside of his coat. Can you tell me what happened?

I stay silent. I don’t quite respond right away. When I find the proper wording of my speech, I speak.

It-it’s hard for me to remember the whole thing… but I was walking home when… I ran into someone. I talk slowly as I’m still sorting out the course of events. I-I didn’t know him… and I don’t know why, but he threatened to shoot me.

Dr. Bowman’s gaze grows more serious at my words. His eyebrows furrow.

So I tried reaching for help, I go on. And I was close to town that I headed for the police station… except… uh . . .

What? Did he… shoot you? Dr. Bowman finishes.

Yeah.

Now he is the one to be silent. He jots down a few things before looking back up to me.

When he supposedly shot you, where did he aim?

H-here. I point to my chest with the hand that lies against it.

There? he repeats. Mind if I take a look? I promise to just move the sleeve here and that’s it.

Um… sure, I answer awkwardly.

Keeping to his word, he gently pulls down the left half of my shirt just a bit in order to see the area I gestured to. After a short glimpse, he puts it back.

Well, there’s nothing I can see there. No mark or anything.

My confusion then rises. I should have known if I didn’t see any blood to begin with, but I only assumed someone cleaned it up.

Then again, I felt nothing when I woke up. I was fine. I fact, I might even feel better than normal.

Dr. Bowman leans back a little and jots down some more of his notes. Although I have no idea what he’s writing, it must be some sort of personal document to keep track of me as a patient. Then, when he’s done, he sets down everything onto a nearby counter and looks at me once more.

I honestly don’t know what to say other than you are perfectly fine, he says. His eyes then suspiciously narrow. This isn’t a joke, is it?

N-no! I swear! I wouldn’t be joking about this! I blurt out.

Were you on anything? Have you been taking anything?

What? No!

You telling the truth?

Yes! Geez—I swear I’m telling the truth!

All right, all right. Calm down. I believe you, he tells me, gesturing with his hands for me to settle down. Despite his statement, I know he has every thought of suspicion running through his head right now.

I haven’t heard of anything such as a man going around with a gun recently, he goes on. And no one reported you shot, so I wouldn’t know of anything… Do your parents know that you’re here?

I’m about to answer before my throat closes up and prevents my reply. I haven’t seen them in, what? I can’t even remember how long. I don’t even have a clue as to where they could possibly be. So, heck, how would they know about their own daughter getting shot?

They’re miles and miles away. Somewhere.

My parents… don’t know, I say honestly. They’re… out of town. For work reasons.

Is anyone at all watching you then? Like an older sibling? Dr. Bowman asks.

Uh… y-yeah. My… sister is.

"Do you need me to call her in order