Jenna Stephens

Darkness. That's the only thing I am able to see, that had seemed to surround me. Circling me from all dimensions, holding me a prisoner. My eyes shot up to look around, frantic, in search of radiance, in hopes of light. They dart hopelessly to look for a crack that would show me a ray of brightness. Just a little, just enough to satisfy me, to let me know there could be anything illuminated. That, there in fact is a break; a fracture that would be sufficient to light the darkness that I was trapped in. Something to give me hope, hope of escape. Need of just an evidence that would snatch away my wild thoughts, bury them and free me; liberate me from the clamps grasping my body, restricting my movements.

I struggled, pulling, thrashing and attempting to look for a source of light, without making any sound because sound. It might attract them, might divert them from their tasks to come hunting for me. I could hear muffled cries, I could hear begging and insisting. A screech is all the more I could take before I’d stamped my palms against my ears, trying to brick the sounds away, to block the fear away.

Tears poured down my eyes as a waterfall, not seeming to be in control. My heartbeats surpassing the normal rate, numbing my ears. I fisted my mouth to drown the sobs threatening to bubble in despair.

Despite trying to hide away from the helpless cries I was unable to save myself from hearing them. The voices resonating, slicing through the darkness, digging at my vulnerability. I wanted to run away and stop all the cries, to stop the torture when… I heard a gunshot.

I shot up in the bed, sitting up straight with my eyes wide. A horrified scream escaped my lips as I clutched the blanket tighter in my fists. I looked around gasping, working to collect huge chunks of air that might normalize my breathing, that might calm me. Wiping the sheen of cold sweat from my forehead, I slid backwards to rest myself against the headrest.

Placing my hand over my heart, I follow the breathing routine to control my heart rate and to normalize the abnormal panting and puffing. My gaze travelled to my shaky hands, seeing them cold and trembling, as though they've been exposed to cold for long.

My throat constricted, making me feel parched like it had been scraped dry. I reached my hand forward to grasp the glass of water from the nightstand, which was always kept there for purposes like these.

Gulping the contents, the liquid wash lubricated my throat, calming me a little. I sighed, placing the empty container back in place. Weaving my slender fingers through the tangled brown locks, my eyes had shut close in frustration.

Why does this always happen, how long would it keep happening? Same nightmare every day. Same fear every other day.

I laid back down, gazing at the ceiling, washing away the routine pain and fear that engulfed me every morning, leaving me breathless.

I didn’t know how long I stayed in my comatose state, blankly gazing at the roof. Willing to unravel my feeble thoughts, to contemplate my impotent cries that haunt my existence to the very core. When suddenly,

Now I'm lying on a cold, hard ground'

My phone starts buzzing, replacing the tranquility of the room, spreading the tunes in all the nooks. My head snapped towards the object, taken by surprise. A slow sad smile crossed my face.

The song surprised me because I didn’t remember putting a song as an alarm, ever. It took me no second minute to register who might be responsible for this childlike play. Britney! The idiot, who I call my friend. Obviously.

I had pulled a prank on her last week and she has returned it through this. Mine wasn't even this barbaric. Had I not been up before it played, it might've actually scared me more. She's so dead after this act of hers, even though it did no damage, it could've. And well, for the world I've to pretend it did. Poor her, she has no idea what a hypocrite she has made friends with. A self proclaimed best friend who is coward enough to open up in front of anyone.

"Shut up!" I grumbled, as Taylor's voice keeps blaring through the silence of my room. Rolling myself on the bed, I grabbed my phone to snooze this torture.

I wish the scientists had declared that the human body required 12 hours rather than an 8 hours course of sleep. Only then no-one, no rule must've had any right to mess up with my favourite activity, perhaps my hobby; sleep.

However, things don't go the way we want them to.

Not that I hate going to University but the idea of waking up early doesn't sit well with me. Why can we not go when we feel like. Just saying. I mean we are the ones in need of education so the schedule should be prepared by us too. I love University though. Well, with University I just mean 'friends' and 'entertainment'. That's it. Not the actual institute. Being a nerd doesn't mean that you'll have to wake early and be a socially inept. Luckily, I'm not anti social.

Speaking of which, this is probably the last week before my final exams, after which I will bid adieu to it for forever, opening my arms to freedom.

I'll miss it. Again, why do I have to joke so much. Of course I'd never.

I walked past my bed to the washroom to do my business, shower and cleanup. Turning the knob, the warm water cascaded down my skin, easing my muscles and soothing them as it pleased.

Walking to my closet, I chose a black pair of jeans to contrast it with a baby pink sweater that has 'A sass a day keeps basic away' written on the front.

I collected my books, essentials and arrange them in my bag. Walking to the mirror, I practiced my smile and wished myself a good day.

Applying some lip gloss, I ran a brush through my naturally wavy, chocolate brown hair, pinning twisters to the side above my ear. I had let them loose so that they could air dry the time I walk to the University.

Plugging the earplugs and shoving the phone in the back pocket of my jeans, I swung the bag pack on and jogged towards the kitchen to grab a granola bar and water bottle. This little intake might temporarily fill me up as breakfast. But if he sees me not eating, I'll be locked up for sure.

Locking my house behind, I walk fast paced towards the University like I usually do. It is only a ten minutes walk from my house and unfortunately this is the only physical activity I manage to do throughout the day, which is quite embarrassing but again, who cares.

A person should do something that makes them happy. And in my case, food and sleep fill the 95% of my happiness chart and well gadgets and staying at the cafe covers the remaining.

I carefully nibbled on my granola bar to make it last until I reach my destination but it got finished way earlier than expected. Pulling out a pack of goldfish crackers I munched on them while humming the lyrics of the song that was playing, but it suddenly went off. I pull my phone to check of what's wrong and the last thing I had expected, the battery had died.

But I had plugged in the charger before falling asleep.

I never switched it on, I smacked my palm over my forehead.

My anger went away as quickly as it came as I inhaled the aroma of the coffee and the freshly baked cookies that had managed to escape the cafe on my right, due to frequent opening and closing of the doors. It filled my senses and a smile automatically find its way to my face when I walk past my favourite place in the town. The Jade Cafe.

This is the only cafe that lies in my way towards the University. I had spent all my free time here from moments when I was sad to when I was super happy. I had done my home works here, prepared for my tests, stalked and stanned celebrities sitting in here. My celebrations had a particular spot inside, assigned by myself, and my gloominess had another. This place is my solace. I had even worked multiple times here sometimes when I had my days off to when I was bored or whenever I've had time.

Claire, the cafe's in-charge, my aunt, had always been trusting me with the cafe and its responsibilities. Even though, I'm quite not worth it.

Claire is very sweet. She's a type of an inspirational character that we rarely find in our society. She's divorced and had a child who was snatched from her soon after birth. When she tells me the story of how she's established this cafe on her own and how she's managed to make it so successful and happening. It just leaves me out stunned. She really is brave. I aspire to imbibe her qualities in my spirit.

My bond with Claire is exemplary and it has grown very strong over the time. She's my mom's sister but before that she's my mentor, my friend. I trust her as she's the only mother figure in my life. We talk, chat and share stories from the craziest gossips to the cringiest jokes and she does the same. Neither of us have ever judged each other. We always pick the best of advises and suggestions for each other and we're just a team. Though people do mock about our friendship and age difference but it has never affected us, ever. We know what we are to each other and noone's opinion makes a difference to us. It has never had. Nobody else matters.

The cafe gives me a sense of comfort. A sense of home.

Mostly, because I had been growing up in similar atmosphere seeing my mom cook and bake while she sat me on the kitchen island. She used to make me taste every bit of her creations. Even though, I'd always lacked the ability of picking out the deficit ingredient. But coming to think about it, she always did that to make me feel important, recognized.

My musing halted when a loud, heavy thunder erupted from something from behind me breaking me out of my reverie with a jolt. More like a sound when a thick, wrapped blanket kind of thing is dropped from a height.

Seriously? Blanket. Sleep and my love for it is going to get me killed someday.

A van sped from beside me, the wind from the velocity of the vehicle shaking my as it crossed me. The driver must've placed a brick over the accelerator because it's so fast that I could barely even notice what kind was it or even the proper color. I just wished he didn't meet an accident with the way he was driving.

I heard heavy footsteps beating the tracks behind me, probably of someone who is running. But who, all of a sudden in the early morning quiet street? Our town is usually quiet at this hour. However, the streets start filling up after sometime when people start rushing for their jobs and schools.

The footsteps got louder and louder causing me to turn around and collide against a wall, my eyes closing on their own accord as the cranial indication of danger. I stumbled backwards a little all the while flinching my eyes shut. Before my arms were grabbed by larger, warm ones and I was being pulled against the wall, again. On instinct my arms flew forward to rest against it, my eyes still closed but I could feel that my hands were empty as my goldfish crackers which were once in my grasp, remained no more. I pried my eyes open to see that my cheek rests on a white dress shirt clad, very warm chest. Which was too hard. I may add. A cheesy goldfish slid down in a trail leaving crumbs on the pristine shirt after the retraction of my head.

Had I broken my nose? It was throbbing in pain and I couldn't even smell this man. So, I guessed I'd lost a sense organ. My eyes widening on the realization that my clumsy self collided with a man and here I was worrying about my nose.

Woah, wait what? Who is he? Did the van throw him off or what?

Anyway, I should apologize!

But why me? It wasn't even my fault. But it was. I shouldn't have turned.

Great. Think of what is right to do and miss your class. But,

Should I apologize first or shall I let him say something? Shut up! Just apologize.

'Hey, I-I...' I pulled myself from against his chest and my eyes laid on a face, a handsome face, a strikingly handsome face, a super strikingly handsome face, handsomest of the handsome faces.

Stop!

...