The mustard colored walls which had once been the height of fashion made Stella want to gag. Why her parents were so enthralled by the culture that was the putrid 1930's she had no idea, the tangerine carpet seemed all too tacky to her. She marched upstairs and tossed her things on her bed, the mattress squeaking in protest. She ran a hand through her cinnamon hair and looked into the vintage mirror that hung on the gray wall, which in comparison to the rest of the house looked boring.

She heard her parents turn on the television downstairs, but she didn't bother to join them. She would not watch her favorite shows on that clunker. Everything in this house was antique to her, and Stella was not going to abide by it. Her room would be a haven to the modern.

She put a roll of tape in her mouth and began to hang her collage of posters and arrange her array of boy band albums on her dresser. When she finished her room was a paragon of the present in an antiquated abode and she was incredibly proud of herself.

Her room was starting to decay into disaster, but Stella figured that was part of the "modern appeal" of it all. School had started but she refused to invite her friends over unless she could sneak them past that atrocious living room. Instead she'd text them at all hours of the night.

A hankering for a soda set upon her and she reluctantly abandoned her social pursuits in favor of getting a drink. She slunk downstairs and snatched a soda from the fridge and was just inching past the living room when she noticed the television had been left on. Odd she hadn't recalled it being on when she came down the first time. She went to turn it off, only to note that it flickered to life. An image -- of her. She watched, mesmerized by it. Screen Stella was laughing, smiling at a boy, a cute boy. Stella had the inclination she would know this boy. Or perhaps she did know him. He did have a familiar air about him. But the moment was not to last as a drunk driver hit her as they crossed the street. She averted her eyes from the sanguinely adorned scene and ran to her room locking the door behind her and darting beneath the covers. Telling herself it was only a nightmare.

The image never left her, as the days drawled on. Tobias offered to walk her home. Her paranoia peaked but she brushed it off. It was naught but a dream. The autumn air was pleasant and Tobias was so charming it quite took her mind off of the idea of her being in danger. She joked about how every time she tried to put up her posters the walls seemed to shed the tape and she'd have to start over just as her foot landed in the crosswalk.