Unknown Dreams

Hex Axelia Ryder. Not only is her name strange but so is she. After years of being a foster child and having a mysterious younger brother who, to others, don't know how he exist, they were finally taken by the butler that worked for their family. Now they moved into a new mansion, in a new town somewhere in New York, with a new school and a some very strange people. A mysterious, Irish accented guy who knows her secret will do anything to find out her darkest secret and capture her heart at the same time. Hex's only problem is, the last time she fell in love, she killed him.


1. Preface: The First Dream (Five years)


      "Time is all I want. It’s all I wanted, more time. I can never get enough time." I replied to the woman who sat across from me with a notepad on her thigh, a pen in her hand that was moving, writing. What was she writing? Where am I? I repeated the words I spoke before, not exactly sure why but the words just came out my mouth. She wanted an explanation on the ‘I wanted more time’ business. Well go join the club. I wanted an explanation, too. "They never gave me enough time. They all expect me to get over it, but how? How!" This isn’t my voice. "To have someone you love leave your life willingly, hurts. They think she’ll come back, that runaways always do, but they don’t know that!" She/I took a shaky breath, only half of the oxygen reaching her/my lungs. "She’s gone. She left me and I don’t know why, and now-now I’m not sure I want to. She has her reasons for everything she does. She only said what you needed to know. Her actions are ruled by thoughts of what would happen next." Wait. Who is She? Why am I saying/ not saying this stuff? God, I’m confused. We looked at the therapist in the eyes, our gaze never breaking from hers. "I know why she runaway. I know that she’s okay." Our voice changed, almost demonic. "I also know where she is." We clearly stated, scaring myself yet I wasn’t able to express it. It’s almost like my body isn’t my own.

    The therapist looked at us, analyzing us and terror became the expression that took the place of the earlier emotionally blank therapist. She tried to hide it, but her face betrayed her, her voice on the other hand, didn’t. "Why don’t you tell me?" She calmly.

    "I can’t." We replied. "It’s a secret. Through the only thing I can tell you is…Next. Next. You are next." A cruel, hideous laughter erupted from our lips. We rushed towards the therapist, she screamed, as the darkness ascended.

                            (That’s when the dreams began first began.)

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