Fix the future by changing the past

A shadow's whisper

"There were these voices, they were saying different things-" She started only to be interrupted by Mary. 

"Ooo what kind of things?" She said, wiggling her eyebrows, wondering if those voices were what she thought they were about. 

With an exasperated sigh, Claire rubbed the bridge of her nose. "No, Mare, they weren't like that. It was like a sequence of past events. Some of the voices I could recognise as my own, others I couldn't place. They were all talking about different things, too, like they were pulled out of random points in time during different events. There was a name said multiple times but every time it was said a haze would block out the name, but it felt so familiar." 

"And then what?" Darci urged on.

"I ran, trying to get away but when the voices were gone I was face to face with this crystal that showed my scattered reflection. Then a new voice was calling, it sounded desperate, afraid, begging. Then my image flashed to that of this ginger haired lady in gold armour before she disappeared." 

“Wow that sounds like some dream, C-Bomb.” Mary said, leaning on the backrest of her chair. 

"C-Bomb, is it? Consider me blown away, 'cause you are nuclear." The voice came back, clearer and she reeled back. She heard the voice again, but this time it was only one voice. A familiar voice. Eyes wide, the image of a tall teen in black with blue streaks in his hair flashed in her mind as he handed her her books with a charming smile. There was only one person she knew that looked like that, although she only ever saw him in passing with Jim a handful of times. 

Douxie.

“Mrs. Nuñez?” Mr. Strickler’s voice sounded, snapping her out of her trance. “Are you alright?” he asked, worried for his student. He knew Toby was injured and was in Trollmarket while Jim was there too, unable to come to the surface due to the sunlight, both boys already dealing with their own problems, he didn’t want to see another of his students hurt by the hidden world of trolls.

“I- uh…” Claire started, looking up to the history teacher that now stood in front of her, only now realising that the whole class was watching her. Suddenly feeling warmth flow from her blurry eyes, she realised that she was in fact crying, even though she didn’t really feel like crying. 

Wiping away her tears she watched as they stained her sleeve, before looking up to Strickler again. “Sorry… I didn't have the best sleep last night…” she whispered, hoping no one caught it. “I’m fine, Mr. Strickler.” she said louder and more confidently to reassure everyone in the class. 

Strickler sighed, his eyes holding a deep emotion she couldn’t place, but still handed her a handkerchief to help her dry her eyes which she took happily with a small “thank you” before going back to teach about the Islamic Golden age.

Claire lowered her head down on her desk, doing her best to pay attention to the lecture, except her mind continued to wander back to Douxie. She clearly remembers meeting the teen the day he had run up and tackled Jim, yet her mind refused to leave the memory of first meeting him at school after bumping into him. She couldn't make sense of it, maybe they met before and she just forgot?

She sighed and tried to remember the scene again, this time managing to remember just a little bit more. There was someone else next to her, someone familiar. But she couldn't remember their face, yet she knew that whoever it was, was glaring daggers into the older teen. Shaking away the thought, she forced herself to focus on her class as she took notes. She needed to talk to someone. Maybe Jim?

The rest of the day continued this way, only ever draining her more and more. And this started to worry her best friends. Unfortunately for Claire, Jim didn’t attend that day, apparently called in sick by his mom. This only made her mood worse, which didn't go unnoticed by her besties.