Unnamed

Chapter Four: Morning

When Eris awoke, she was laughing manically and tears where streaming down her face. Wiping them away, she hugged her pillow close and contemplated her latest nightmare, the way she always did.

Honestly, she wouldn’t really classify that dream as a nightmare, seeing as throughout most of it she had been happy. No, more than happy; that was ecstasy. Pure bliss. Only the end was truly nightmare material.

She saw the mousy-faced girl in her mind’s eye; cowering on the ground, eyes bulging with fright and reflecting the flame flickering over Eris’ body. Even now, awake and rational, a cruel laugh bubbled in her throat. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she tried to find a reason to feel this intense hatred towards somebody. Unfortunately, the ones she thought of couldn’t really be applied to such a tiny creature. The things she was thinking of required force.

Strangely, the thing that bothered her most about the dream was the fact that he (hadn’t she said his name was Gabriel in the dream?) had tried to stop her from killing the little mouse.

This concerned her, seeing as the pleasure she took from the fear in her eyes should have been the most disturbing thing about it.

Rolling over, she thought about the boy, Gabriel. He had visited her in a few other dreams after his initial appearance, always helping her to fight off whatever monsters came for her that night, or running along beside her, laughing and leaping and making everything seem less scary.

When the dream was nearly over, he always took her in his arms and held her; telling her it wasn’t time for her to face such horrible monsters, but that the time was coming soon, and that she must be prepared when it did. She knew it was only a dream, but it got her paranoid enough to ask her kick boxing instructor for extra sessions and up the amount of hours she spent at the gym.

She didn’t know what she thought was going to happen, but she couldn’t help but worry. The dreams were so vivid and real; how could she not believe them, especially when she had them at least four times a week? A reoccurring nightmare had to mean something, didn’t it?

Getting out of bed she shuffled around her house, going through the motions of getting ready for work, not even bothering to see what time it was. It was still dark enough outside for her to know she wasn’t late, and that was good enough for her.

She was distracted that morning; too busy thinking about the dream to concentrate. The sinking feeling in her heart wouldn’t go away, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty and apprehensive. At the same time, though, she was excited. She didn’t know why, but her blood was pumping and she felt like jumping or running to help ease the excess energy she felt.

Smelling something odd, she woke as if from a trance to find that she was putting mustard instead of jelly on her peanut butter toast. With a groan, she scrapped it and made a new batch.

When she finished eating, she went to the bathroom to deal with her appearance. Deciding that she was too distracted to handle hot tools, and that she didn’t care what her hair looked like, she let it hang naturally around her shoulders at bump gently against her lower back.

While putting on her make-up, she was grateful for her decision to not style her hair, because she nearly poked her eyes out at least three times.

Forcing herself to pay attention, she finished her make-up, and went to find some clothes, though she didn’t really want to give up her pajamas today. They were loose and comforting, which helped to alleviate some of the tension she felt coursing through her blood.

Today she wore a pair of jeggings, they were snug but stretchy so she could move in them well enough, and a black tank-top, over which she wore an unbuttoned red cardigan. She completed her outfit with a pair of brown boots with heels.

Finishing her preparations, she checked the clock and was surprised to find that it was 5:57 AM. She had finished right on time.

Grabbing her purse, she left her apartment and began walking to the coffee shop where she worked.

Whereas in her apartment her head had been stuck up in the clouds, while on the street she was very well aware of her surroundings. Sure, she was normally wary whenever she went anywhere, but this was different. She was on hyper alert, and she snapped her head around to face every little sound. For whatever reason, she was afraid something was going to happen.

She was grateful when she reached the coffee shop; the smell of coffee and chocolate and pastries calming her nerves and making her feel safe and happy. Surely she was safe in here; with all the people around as witnesses, nothing would try and mess with her in here. She was sure of that.