There is no mention of my nightmare for the rest of the day. When we arrive at my--Skylar's new home, (I forbid myself from accepting that I'm Skylar Ann), Officer Jenkins and the other cops leave us alone. Before he had left, Jenkins said that he'll be back every few weeks to see how we are doing. It's funny that he would make a trip this far away each few weeks just to check in on us, but I don't question it. I like the extra security even if it can be annoying.

My--Skylar's room is just down the hall from the kitchen. It has a single twin bed and a small closet that probably can only fit the things that I packed, which isn't very much. An old dresser sits in the corner next to the closet, but it's so broken down that I doubt I'll ever be able to use it for anything.

I drop my suitcase on the bed, which creaks when weight is placed on it. That should make sleeping very comfortable, considering I wake at the slightest noise.

I open one of the zippers of the small suitcase and take my new phone out. I guess it was good Jenkins gave us new phones because the screen on my good one broke when I had thrown it at the mirror earlier.

No one knows the number on the phone except for Mom and Officer Jenkins, so it's more for emergencies than anything. I'm pretty sure I won't be making any friends while I'm here anyway. It's probably a good thing too, because anyone who I'm associated with is in danger now, including the cops that have helped my mother and I for the past while.

I place my phone on the nightstand beside my bed and walk out of the room, heading over to mom's bedroom to see what she's doing. Her new identity is Bethany Ann, but I'm glad I can still just call her mom. That way I don't have to be careful about saying her real name: Helena Larkin.

"Mom?" I call out as I pass by the kitchen. Her room is across the whole house, so we're nowhere near each other at night. It worries me, but I try and not let it show. I can't let it show.

When I turn the corner, I see mom sitting on her bed, clutching a picture frame to her chest. I recognize the scalloped edges almost immediately. It's the photo of her, my dad, and I when I was only a year old. I can't even look at that photo anymore without wrinkling my nose in disgust.

"Mom?" I question, stepping further into the room with caution. She looks up from the floor, her eyes shining with tears. She tries to cover them up when she sees me, but I'm not fooled.

"Yes Me--Skylar?"

I purse my lips together. We had both agreed for her to call me by the fake identity I have while my stalker is still out there.

"I was just--" I pause, not positive on what to say. "I just wanted to ask what was for dinner."

Her lip curls into a smile and she drops the picture frame on her mattress again. "Just give me a few minutes to unpack and I'll see what I can find in the cupboards."

I nod, biting my lip until it draws blood. The metallic taste fills my mouth as I try and figure out what to say to comfort her. I mean, she lost her husband, who was a douche bag for leaving her anyway, and now someone is threatening me. Considering what happened to Laura, if he catches me like he thinks he will, I'll probably be six foot deep by the end of the year. I don't think she can take losing me too. After dad left, she has become more of a shell of herself, or so people tell me.

When I don't reply, Mom stands up and leaves the room, wiping a stray tear away from her cheek. I can't help but feel this whole ordeal is my fault. I'm putting her through more pain than she needs, just because someone has decided to antagonize me. Every time I think about my stalker, I want to cry, scream, and punch a wall all at the same time. She doesn't need this.

We don't need this.

The banging of kitchen cupboards pulls me out of my thoughts, making me twitch. I guess being jumpy in is the description of being stalked.

Before I leave the room, I look at the photo of the three of us when we were a family. I sigh. All I want is for him to come back, even though I never knew my father, and for this whole stalking thing to go away. It isn't fair, but I guess everyone says that nowadays, especially teenagers, who think everything's unfair.

I flip the picture frame on its face so I don't have to look at it anymore. Then, I walk out of the room, locking the door tightly behind me.

•••

The brittle leaves brush up against my toes as I run down the crooked path. My breath, shallow and fast, refuses to be steady. I'm confused about what I'm running from until I see her.

Laura pursues me; her clothes stained in crimson, like someone had splashed her with a bucket of blood, almost like in Stephen King's "Carrie". She carries a long knife about the length of my forearm in her hand. Her eyes, murderous and cold, stare into mine and are burning my flesh with their hot gaze.

My heart pounds in my throat as I let my legs carry me down the path. Twigs and small rocks cut into the pads of my feet from time to time, but I ignore it. I have far worse things to worry about than a couple small cuts. For instance, a distraught girl running behind me with a knife waving wildly in her hand.

All of the sudden, my body jerks forward and slams against the ground, knocking the wind out of me. I realize too late that I had tripped over a branch lying in the middle of the leaf-covered path.

Crap.

As I try and get my breath back, I feel a cold hand clamp onto my bare arm, hauling me to my feet. I scream, trying to get away from my best friend, who wants to kill me. Her eyes darken even more than before as she throws me against a tree.

The bark digs into my flesh as I stare back at her, my lip trembling. The knife floats dangerously close over my heart. Just as I'm about to reason with her, to get her to stop, she stabs the knife into my chest and twists, her lips forming into a smirk.

I let out an animal-like cry that no human should be able to make. The pain is incredible, but it fades in and out. From that observation, I know I'm in shock.

As blood pours from the wound and down my shirt, my vision begins to fade. Laura's hand releases my arm just as I collapse. I hear her whisper something that I cannot quite catch. It sounded something like "This is what you get for leaving me," but I'm not too sure.

I feel my heartbeat slow and my breath grow shallow as I lay against the tree. My death seems like it takes forever. I wonder if that's what it's like for everyone else when they're on the verge of death.

I finally fall limp against the tree, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. My eyelids still have the impression of Laura's darkened eyes as I die.

•••

I jolt awake in my bed, which causes a loud creaking noise; the springs of my mattress screaming for help. Sweat drips down my neck as I try and steady my uneven breathing.

It's only a dream, Mel. You're safe, you're alive.

I shudder as Laura's cold eyes come back into my mind, haunting my vision. Out of wonder, I reach for the spot where she stabbed me, right under where my heart is located. I feel the area for anything like blood, flesh, or a scar. There's nothing.

I don't relax like I should after realizing it had only been a dream. Something feels off, I just don't know exactly what.

I get out of my bed and flick on the light, since I don't have a lamp or flashlight to use. When my eyes flicker to my dresser, I don't scream. I don't utter a sound. I only stare at the perfect petals in full bloom, their whiteness pure and inviting. I swallow slowly, walking a step closer. It's a rose.

A white rose.

And I know who it's from.

________________________________________________________________________

Okay, first things first. Go back to Chapter 7 and 8, for I have added a new character.

Also, I just love cliffhangers...don't you guys? XD

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