I braced myself for what I was about to see today. My fingers were tightly wrapped around the sink and my eyes were shut firmly. I always hated the first look.
As my eyes slowly peered open, I took in who I was today: a red head. I'm rarely ever that. I had dark brown eyes and dark freckles splattered across my nose. I was about five foot seven, almost two inches taller than yesterday. There was a gap in between my two front teeth.
I headed out of the bathroom into my bedroom. It was a mess. Clothes covered the floor, the dressers were cluttered with junk, and the closet was spewing out even more clothes. Today, I wasn't a clean person.
I got onto my hands and knees and searched through all the items on the floor. I threw clothes over my head. I needed some kind of identification and I usually can always find it in the purse. I just couldn't find one right now.
I shoved my hand under the bed and my fingers wrapped around a leathery object. When I pulled it out I saw it was my purse. I threw it up onto the bed and I sat down next to it.
I flipped the purse over and dumped all the contents on the bed. This place was already a pigsty, so what's a little more mess for one day?
Pushing aside the loose change and make-up, I found my wallet. I pulled out the drivers licence and discovered that I am Cassandra Lowe. I also found out that I am twenty-three, take the bus, have quite a few gift cards to clothing stores, go to yoga classes and have two men's phone numbers. The last thing I discovered was that I'm an organ donor.
My heart pounded in my chest when I heard a knock on the door. I didn't know anyone in my life. So how am I supposed to recognize who's at the door? Anyways, it's nine a.m. who would come this early in the morning?
I got up and made my way across the tiny apartment. A couple more loud knocks came at the door. The person is probably trying to wake me up in case I was asleep.
As soon as I opened the door a man wrapped his arms around my waist. He pressed his lips hard against mine. He must be my boyfriend; it's the only logical solution. Now what's his name? I tried to think back to the names on those napkins. He was either Charles or Stuart.
When the man backed away from me he had a smile on his face. I let a smile grow across mine. He ran his hand through his dark short-cropped hair.
"You're not ready yet, Cass?" he asked letting his eyes set onto my body. I looked down at myself. I had on a pair of blue flannel pyjama bottoms and a grey tank top.
"Sorry, I'll get changed...um where are we going again?" I asked, trying not to sound like I didn't have a clue about anything in my life.
The man still scrunched his eyebrows at me.
"We were going to go have breakfast before I had to go to work," he said. "Remember?"
I just nodded my head and let another big smile grow across my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll get ready right now," I said.
I kissed him quickly and then turned on my heels. This is his last day with Cassandra, so it might as well be a good one.
He sat down on the couch as I went into my room. I quickly put on a pair of jeans, a white shirt and a black vest. I found a brush among the mess on the dresser. I began running it through my hair. I was trying to find out this man's name. I dropped the brush back down on the dresser and saw my phone lying there.
YOU ARE READING
Day After DayHorror
Each day she wakes up in a different body, not knowing who she is, and each night that body dies. She is the Reaper Syndrome, and she's desperate to know why. ***** She doesn't kn...