This Song Is For You

Chapter 1

I snap my eyes open and discover myself standing in an unfamiliar bedroom. Chewing on my lower lip, I struggle to remember how I ended here, also where here is. Jumbled images flow through my mind as if several movies have been inter-cut in glitchy fragments. Running. Being embraced. Heavy breathing. Struggling. Everything ends in an empty dark. What even was the last thing I was doing? Only strong feelings rise within the hollowness. I remember being thrilled and nervous about something, but that's as deep as my memories reach.

A ringing numbness fills my skull the more I push myself to remember. A lightness overwhelms me. Swivelling from ball of my feet to heel, I fall forwards as my body weight vanishes. I crash onto the floor with what should have been a painful thump, but instead I only land with no feeling whatsoever. I suppress a shudder as I realise I have no sensation. I know the ground beneath me should be solid, but I can't touch it. Instead, my hand goes straight through.

I bound to my feet and stumble backwards, hurtling through the surface behind me. Clothes assault me from all sides, yet I can't touch them to sweep them aside. I struggle to crawl out of the wardrobe and attempt to gain a stable balance.

With my hand in front of my face, I let out a deep breath, expecting hot air to expel from my mouth. Not even the slightest trace of air is leaked.

Now's not the time to lose it. I snap out of my panic attack, realising the need to figure out where the hell I am. For all I know, I possibly am in hell. Shaking off the sudden trepidation, I study the foreign environment around me.

The boy band posters covering the walls and the pastel pink and purple patterns on a bed strewn just discernible beneath the scattered bright-coloured dresses indicates this is in fact a girl's bedroom.

"Come on, I'm only asking for help here," a girl's voice resonates from the other side of an open door. A girl with a bundle of dresses clutched in her arms enters the room. She looks about sixteen or seventeen, with a head full of wavy red hair.

"Are you asking for my help?" I find my voice as I take a tentative step towards her.

She ignores my question and, instead, faces the far wall where a computer screen sits, revealing a video of another girl with dark skin and straight ebony hair.

"What do you think?" she asks as she discards all but one dress across the back of the computer chair and holds a black cat-print dress in front of her body. "This one, or this?" She switches to another dress, this time deep purple with black geometric shapes on it.

"Why are you asking me?" the voice on the computer sounds.

I inch myself over to the girl, trying to draw her attention. "Um... hello?" I tap her on the shoulder, but instead of coming into contact with solid flesh, I lose my balance and plunge forward as my hand passes through her. I let out a loud and uninhibited scream I swing a fist towards the girl. My fist sinks straight through the girl's back and I tumble forward, ending up with me lying on the ground, thanking that the girl was wearing jeans at the moment.

Crap, I would think this is creepy if I wasn't freaked out about everything else going on here. She can't see me. I can't touch her. The thought of me suddenly getting super powers which has led me to this unfamiliar room flashes through my mind, but I know that would be wishful thinking.

Having no breath or feeling could be treated some sort of illness I've contracted, but I know it can't be that simple. I bring my arm to my chest and confirm that something seriously wrong is happening to me. My mannequin-like chest remains still. No heartbeat, no breathing, nothing to suggest I'm even alive. What the hell happened to me? I try to picture the last thing to happen to me. Now, what was it?

I close my eyes and force myself to recall. A sense of hollowness attacks me, blurred shadows and shapes rushes through my mind. The fragmented images become more distorted. These images must have something to do with what happened to me, but why can't I remember?

Dammit, what the hell happened to me?

A feeling, the first I've had since waking up here, crashes down upon me. A heavy torrent of fear and sadness. I think I'm dead. The last proper memory I have surfaces in my mind. I was preparing for a date with a special boy, a boy any girl would dream of dating. But why can't I remember the details?

"Not like you're the one meeting him," the girl on the monitor says as a cheeky grin spreads across her face.

The girl in the room shakes her head. "Just help me decide. He will be here anyway, so maybe I'll have a lucky encounter with him."

"Fine, I think the purple one is better. Wearing black might be too gloomy." The girl on the monitor smiles.

"You're right. Thanks." The girl dumps the black dress on the pile of clothes.

"But don't forget if this scheme works try to score tickets for me as well."

"Don't worry, Becca. I'll never forget you." She moves over to the open door of her closet with the purple dress in hand. She pulls it closed and reveals a full-length mirror.

She holds the dress in front of her body as her dark green eyes move their way up her body, stopping on her face, or to be precise, her hair. She lowers the dress and uses the other hand to drag her slender fingers through the tangle of red curls. "I wish I could do something about this though."

I push myself to my feet and follow her. I drag my feet along the carpet, terrified of what I'll find when I look at my reflection. I don't know if I'll be more scared of seeing something or having no reflection at all.

As the girl dances in front of the mirror with the dress held up in front of her, I can only glare at the other girl standing beside her. The other girl imitates my movement as I bring a hand to my face. I stare at the reflection, which appears more faded than that of the other girl, familiar hazel eyes staring back at me. My curly and knotted mess of red hair drapes awkwardly down my back. I'm wearing a tattered and muddy dress that used to be white. A dark, rust-coloured stain covers my stomach.

I want to turn my gaze away from the nightmarish figure, but as I swivel my head towards the girl, I spot several other dark shadows crowding the girl. Dark twisting silhouettes with long, lanky limbs reaching their claws towards the girl. Four of them in total. Their blank features threaten to draw me in. The longer I look, the darker the reflection becomes. I tear my gaze away from the mirror and turn to the girl, but she seems unfazed by the spectacle appearing in the reflection and when I twist my head back towards it, all the other spectre's eyes are fixed on me.

I wrap my arms around my body, wishing I could shiver or hyperventilate, or anything that would suggest I'm still alive—even though it's obvious by now I'm not. I know I'm not cold, but that still doesn't stop a chill from rushing through my vacant body. I do not understand what happened to me, but I'm scared this girl might head towards the same fate, and that is not a pleasant thought.