Twisting Love

1. The Importance Of Being Haley Monroe

A/N So this is my second story My other is called Blood Moon, Take a look. Vote,Comment and fan If you Like!! Thanks

 Chapter 1

I knew instantly that I was dreaming. It might've been harder for someone else to detect it. Everything seemed so authentic, so flamboyant—it was hard to believe that an imagination could concoct something so realistic. But I knew. I always know.

First reason being, that I could see my reflection in a shop window in my home city Manhattan, New York; it had the word antiques highlighted at the top in bold, shiny silver letters.

My face- or at least I assumed it was my face- stared back at me with wide, stunned eyes. I was generally shocked by my reflection because I looked like I was sixteen again. All familiar-ness of the twenty-three year old that I knew from the following night had vanished and was replaced by the diminutive adolescent that stood before me.

I had a bulky green and black army jacket on- even though the weather was moderately warm- a striped red and black turtle neck shirt peeked beneath the closed buttons of my repulsive Eskimo coat, holey jeans hid my long slender legs and I was wearing atrocious converse that I tried to pass off as shoes.

Second explanation to persuade me that I was dreaming was the voice that called my name shortly after my little installment.

"Haley." someone whispered from behind me. It wasn't a question it was a form of recognition.

I didn't have to glance behind me to know whose voice it was. This was a voice that I would recognize, love, and answer to no matter what. My mom.

She hadn't changed much since the last time I had seen her. Her hair was the same flowing, sinister—almost black—brown. Her smile was still genuine and full. Her eyes were the same piercing blue as mine, and her graceful fairy like features looked surreal and mystical underneath the glow of the red and pink sun that shone brightly above us.

I had never, not once, in my life seen anyone more stunning than my mom. I felt grateful for the memory. I had started to worry that I was forgetting her. Not big things, but the way she smelled, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, her laugh…. the little things I took for granted. Those were the things that I missed the most. They we were all here, waiting for me, in my dream.

My Mom, Rebecca Anne Tennant had been dead for almost six years now. She along with my Dad, Adam James Tennant, and two of my sisters, Emily and Hanna, and I got into a terrible car accident on July 14, 1998. My birthday.

Ironically enough, I was the only one to survive it.

later I had so many questions I wanted to ask her, how was Dad, and was he with her wherever she was, was she better off, and more importantly did she forgive me? The thought of her answer to the last question was unbearably painful. I was already sort of expecting it, but I still couldn't help but cringe at the idea of her saying no.

"Catch me if you can." She said playfully.

She turned around and walked out into the oncoming traffic, bobbing past the people and cars that passed her. Stupidly, I ran after her.

I found that no matter how fast I ran I couldn't keep up with her. I reached out trying to grab the outskirts of her faded blue sundress, but just when I thought I had caught her she moved father away. It went on like this- me just barely in her reach, but never close enough to touch her until I heard the sound of tires skidding, a loud honk, and an ear-splintering scream.

At first I thought it was my mom who had screamed, but then I realized it was me. I stared horrified at the car that was on fire. I could see my dad and my sisters burning inside of it, but I couldn't see my mom. I flinched when I finally saw her hand underneath the blazing car, her dress was flaking off in ashy embers and a look of insufferable agony crossed her face.