01- Alive

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The ground is cold and wet beneath me, something I was not expecting to wake up to. Although, to be honest, I wasn't quite sure what I would be waking up to. My whole life has been switched upside down after I died. Death isn't predictable and I had no idea what was going to happen to me.

My lips are dry and when I go to lick them, I immediately taste dirt. I brush the back of my hand over my lips while spitting out any dirt. I push myself up when I see I'm laying on the ground, surrounded by woods. Dirt and small rocks stick to the palms of my hands and the back of my forearms. My head is throbbing. My head whips around, frantically. Everywhere I look, there's nothing but woods. This must be the Beacon Hills Preserve. At least, I'm hoping it is.

Slowly, with wobbly legs, I manage to stand up on my own. The throbbing in my head continues, which only makes me clutch it with one hand. The woods are dark around me, the moonlight shining down on me through the branches of the trees. I glance down at the ground, surprised when I see I'm barefoot. A pair of jeans hang on my waist, loosely wrapped around on my legs. A loose black shirt hangs from my shoulders as well. The cotton material soft between my fingers.

My eyes move up my body, locking on the blonde hair resting past my shoulders. Blonde? I pick up a piece of my hair, examining it. I would never die my hair blonde. Dark brown is the only hair color that ever looked good on me.

Right in front of my eyes, the blonde hair changes to an auburn color with a natural wave in it. I drop the hair, letting it fall back down into place as I yelp out in surprise. My hair just changed colors right in front of me.

"How is that even possible?" I whisper to myself.

 "Here's the thing, when you wake up, you won't really remember any of this. I mean, you'll remember dying, but this memory of me will be faint. You'll be alive again, Clara, but things won't be the same. You won't be the same. You'll still have all of the same memories, but you'll never look the same again. Even with your new gift, you can't become your old self again."

Allison's voice pops in my memory, sounding as if she was standing right beside me. My breathing deepens as I spin around in a circle, desperate to see my sister again. She said something about a a gift. What did she mean by that? I suck in a breath, realizing that Allison said I would be alive again. I press my hand to my chest to feel my heart beating beneath it.

I'm alive.

"Allison?" I call out. Although, I know there is no point in calling out for her. Allison is dead and I'm alive. She brought me back to life. How? I have no clue. My mind is so foggy, like some of my memories are purposely hidden away from me.

The memory of me dying swarms my head and I stumble backwards into a tree. I wipe away a tear that slips down my face from remembering how sad Derek was. I died in his arms. I slowly raise my head up. I'm alive now. Derek is going to be so happy. Everyone will be happy.

I burst out running in a random direction, hoping I am going in the right direction. I was kind of in the Beacon Hills Preserve a lot, but not enough to know which direction is which. Eventually, I will find a road and then I can find my way from there.

After about ten minutes of running, I bend over out of breath. This isn't right. I don't get this tired after ten minutes of running. I could run for hours and be okay. I sharply inhale, needing more oxygen in my lungs. I rub the back of my calves, only to find little to no muscle there. I'm not in shape like I was before.

The muscle beneath my hand suddenly grows to match how it was before. Eyes wide, I yank my hand away, confused. How did I do that? That's not possible.

"What the hell?!" I exclaim.

I rub my hand over the newly formed calf muscle. This must be some weird side effect from coming back to life. This is nowhere close to being normal. Any normal person would have to work out to get calf muscles. They don't magically appear. I need to find my friends. Maybe they can help me figure everything out.

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