My Classified Life

Chapter Twenty-Seven: WWIII

*WARNING* this chapter contains crude language that may offend some readers! This story is PG-13 and therefore I can have that kind of stuff. I don't like writing with curse words unless it's used for characterization. Sorry if you are offended, no rude comments!!

I woke that next morning in my bed groggily. I woke up after short bursts of sleep and had to move to a different position in order to return to my dreams. But, I guess they were more like nightmares.

My brain can only remember glimpses and pictures of my dreams. But the emotions I feel that come along with them, are very, very real. I only saw flashes of people and places. Like when lightening hits and big boom of thunder resounds, I could subconsciously feel my body react with violent, almost contraction like movements. I dreamed of images of Dylan, his smirk gone and an evil laugh replacing it. I dreamed of Christina and Cameron pointing and laughing at me. I dreamed one of my Knight Dreams, but my knight did not come.

When I awoke, I had the feeling that my body was covered in purple and blue blotches, again. But my pale ivory skin showed no bruises other than the ones from various spy activities.

Slowly but surely, I came to a sitting position on my bedside and almost went back to sleep. A large yawn escaped me as I stretched my arms and legs. Every part of me seemed tense, but it might have been my mind playing tricks on me.

After grabbing the nearest clothing in sight, I was dressed in sweats and t-shirt that read 'Monte Carlo' in swirly letters. I didn't realize until after I had put it on, but I was wearing the shirt Dylan got for me. I was too lazy to change out of it before slowly making my way down the steps and into the kitchen to grab a quick bowl of cereal. But not even Cap'n Crunch could console my foul mood.

All I was doing was putting off the inevitable: the first ever fight with my other half. I've never fought with Christina before, we both loved each other too much. It's always the stereotype that all friends fight, but honestly? No, not me and Christina. But I guess our streak is about to be broken.

I'll admit it, I did some pretty bad things to wreck our friendship, too. I lied to her. A lot. I understand that she's going to be mad at me but I'm also pretty freakin' pissed at her.

I dropped the spoon in my cereal and it made a soft clink sound that jolted me. I was half asleep and extremely sensitive to sounds. The mushy mess in the bowl before me looked unappetizing and I left it lay.

“Let's go get this over with.” I said to myself, getting up from the chair and walking to our front door. Before I was outside I yelled back for anyone who cared “I'm going to Tina's!” and then shut the door behind me.

Christina's house is only about a five minute walk from mine, just down the paved service road a little bit and you'll almost go right through it. I'd never given much thought to why I never went to her house. The only answer I could come up with is that it didn't look like anyone lived in it. Last I can recall, the house is pristinely cleaned and the furniture looks like it's on display. Step into he living room and you'll feel like you're in a Good Housekeeping magazine. The walls are each painted in the most fashionable colors, most in browns and creams along with a bright yellow and soothing blues. Almost no pictures hung on the walls of their family and it looked move in ready for any couple wanting to start a new life. It was big just like mine, lots of electronics and things to do, but just not... homey.

The only room that I remember that even looked lived in what Christina's bedroom and bath and the kitchen after we'd gone through and eaten our fill. After peaking through the glass on her front door window, I could see that I was still right.