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I woke up long before Hope did. I didn't want to move because I didn't want to wake her, so I laid there peacefully. Doing my best not to think about past events. Instantaneously, she gasped and began to whimper. I sat up to make sure she was okay, but she was beginning to tremble. Her irises flew back and fourth under the blanket of her eyelids, and a thin layer of sweat was beginning to form over her entire body.
"Hope, wake up." I did my best to be gentle when I shook her, but I know how nightmares can be, and I don't want her going through that. "Hope, come on. Wake up." She rolled her over screaming causing an invisible force to throw me back against her wall. I fell down breaking her easel in the process. My portrait of her, and I fell on my face, and I groaned.
"Oh, my god. Laya, are you okay?" I laughed pushing the painting off of me. "Great. Why do you ask?" She didn't laugh at my joke like I hoped she would. "What happened?" I stood up wiping grey paint off of my forearm. "You were having a nightmare. And then you screamed, and some magical wave thing hit me, and I now have art supplies where no person should." Hope didn't laugh at my joke again causing me to sigh.
"Hey, I'll heal, and I needed new art supplies anyways, so don't worry about it."
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As soon as I walked out of my room, Landon was rushing over. "Oh my god, Laya are you okay. I-I had this weird like dream, sort of. An-And you got thrown across the ro-" I cut him off quickly, "I'm fine Landon, really." He nodded, "Wait, so did you like actually fall, or...?" I nodded at him, only causing his eyebrows to furrow.
"Do you think being a Phoenix makes me physcic?" I laughed, "Landon, your not physcic, but there is something I should tell you." He looked concerned. "It's nothing bad, well not that bad. Sort of." The worry on his face only grew, and I sighed.
After explaining to Landon the whole, searching through his minds, and our minds being linked, (which he surprisingly took well) he decided to go visit Dr. Saltzman. I had a different plan. I needed to talk to someone, preferably Dorian, but Emma said I could talk to her. I definitely don't think I need intensive therapy after M.G., but the lady wants what the lady wants. "Mrs. Tig?" I called out into her stale, empty office. Rafael walked up to me, "Hey, Raf, where's Emma?"
