Chapter Two

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            “Sarah,” I heard being whispered.

            "Sarah," I heard louder.

            “Sarah!” was woke me up from my nightmare. I looked up to see my mother watching closely, concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?” she said.

            “It’s okay mom, just a bad dream.” was all I could manage to say because my throat was raw and dry.

            “Just a nightmare-honey, you sounded as if you were getting murdered in here! I never heard you scream like that before because of a dream,” she said, still worried.

            “Mom it’s okay,” I whispered.

            “I’ll fetch you a cup of water.” She said, obviously noticing the dryness of my voice. “Go wet your face, it’s flushed.”  My mother said walking out the room. I looked at the clock to see it was 4:30 in the morning. This wasn’t the time I usually woke up for school, but I was certainly did not going back to sleep. I got up from bed, got some clothes to take with me, and then crossed the room out into the hallway, heading to the bathroom. When I entered, I went straight to the sink. Splashing water over my face to cool me down, I thought of the nightmare I encountered. I involuntarily shivered as I thought of the man that wanted to kill me. I looked up to see myself with wide eyes that looked terrified. “It’s just a dream,” I told myself.  It made me feel a little better, but not enough to shake some feeling that was lurking inside of me.

              Trying to think about something else, I looked at myself more closely. My skin is a dark olive tone. My hair is dark brown, long and straight.  My eyes are big and hazel, curtained with long curly eyelashes. To me, I’m just a skinny, average looking girl. Lots of my looks come from my mother. Everyone said I am an exact duplicate of her, just a taller version. Lucky for me, I am five eight. The tallness came from my grandfather, who is five eleven. 

            Turning away from the mirror, I got dressed. I put on some black skinny jeans that were torn on the knees, then my favorite Slipknot T-shirt that my mom got me from the concert she went to. She felt sad that I couldn’t go, so she got me the shirt to make up for it. Brushing my hair, I put it in the usual style - down and plain.  All of my friends kept saying to get a new style, but I don’t like attention, so I didn’t bother. After brushing my teeth and putting on some socks and shoes, I went back to my room to clean up. Making my bed, I grabbed the book I was reading earlier that night and headed down to breakfast.

                “How many more books can you cram into your head?” my brother Luis teased.

I ignored him, making my way to the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal. Everyone wondered why I read and wrote so much. My favorite kinds of novels were those of adventure, romance or mystery. I always wondered how it would be like to do something interesting, something out of the ordinary. My mom always said something was coming that would be worth remembering, but it didn’t happen. I was stuck on the same routine everyday: Get up from bed, go to school, go to practice, go home and do homework, take a shower then go to bed. Boring! Everything in between those times was hanging out with friends, writing a story, or reading one.

 My mother still said, “Honey, you are special, and something always happens to people like you,” Yeah, I was smart for my age, learned things too quickly, and was always one step ahead of everyone else, but I considered that geeky, not special.  I always thought she was just trying to make me feel better, but I was wrong.

After finishing up my cereal, I went to say goodbye to my mom then started off to school. Since I didn’t own a car because of financial problems in the family, I used my legs for transportation. I was completely fine with that. It was always a time to clear my head and get some fresh air. I always ran to school rather than walked, because it was a time that I could start releasing some energy that kept up with me all day. I took the backstreets when I ran, trying to avoid the embarrassment that might come if someone caught me running like lightning. I had to admit- I was fast. It was easy for me to run-natural, and I did it a lot, because I was a track star back at school. It was unusual that I could run for very long periods of time with no more than a little bit quick breathing, but I didn’t think much of it.

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