by Kaitlyn Hoyt
SHORTLY AFTER GOING TO BED, I am woken up by the sun streaming from my bedroom window, hitting my face. Groaning, I get out of bed and walk to the bathroom to take a shower. I step into the shower, and turn the water on as hot as it will go, hoping that it will help wake me up, and shake off the remnants of the dream last night. Standing beneath the steady stream, I slowly feel the exhaustion leave me. My muscles relax, and the fog in my mind drifts away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
As I walk down the stairs, I stop to look at all of Jane’s photos on the wall. I walk past these photos every day, but have never actually stopped to look at them. It upsets me that she has so many photographs and memories, while I have nothing. The wall is covered with photos of her, her friends and family members, all smiling and laughing, happy and content.
I am suddenly overcome with a feeling of sadness. I’ll never have that. I am an only child. My father left before I was born, and my mother died in a car accident a year ago. My mom hated taking pictures, so I don’t have many of her. I have one picture in my possession. I stop at the most recent photograph of Jane and her boyfriend, Ross, both staring into each other’s eyes, smiling. Will I ever get that?
I continue walking down the stairs until I reach the floor length mirror near the front door. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m wouldn’t say I’m pretty, but I’m not that ugly either. I’m pretty average, I think. I’m a little over 5’3” and thin, yet curvy. My pale skin tone accentuates my long dark, curly chestnut hair that reaches down to the middle of my back. Light hazel eyes look back at me.
Unless I get out of this town, I’ll never have that Jane and Ross relationship. No one wants to hang around the quiet girl, and no one will take the time to get to know me better. Everyone is quick to jump to conclusions, and listen to the rumors swirling around.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink rapidly to get them to go away. I won’t cry. I refuse to. I haven’t cried since my mom died, and today will not be the day I start again. Walking into the kitchen, I see a note on the counter from Jane:
Ryanne,
Going away for the weekend with Ross. You better read that book and study while I’m gone! Failing is not acceptable. I’ve left the car for you in case of an emergency. See you again on Monday!
-Jane
I drop the letter, letting it fall back on the counter, and go to the refrigerator to look for something to eat.
When I get back to my room, I plug my iPod into the dock, play the newest Ed Sheeran song, and then turn on my laptop. Singing along with the words, I log into my Facebook account. I don’t get on it often, because frankly, I don’t care about it. Today, however, I have a goal. I go to Lily Mooris’s page, the most popular girl in the school, and search through her friends list, looking for one person in particular. I don’t know his last name, so finding him is going to be difficult.
After an hour of searching, I start to feel like a stalker. Colton didn’t show up on anyone’s friends list. I guess he doesn’t have a Facebook account. I though t everyone had an account these days. I mean, nothing is official unless it’s on Facebook, right? Turning off the computer, I grab the book, walk over to my bed, and sit down. Opening it, I start reading: “Then she noticed that there was something crunching under her feet…”
After half an hour, I throw the book across the room, watching as it falls to the ground near my closet. I can’t believe that Mrs. Applegate is making me read this. I read it a long time ago, but definitely do need the refresher. I wonder how close the movie is to the book…
Getting off the bed, I go and search for a snack. Grabbing an apple, I walk into the living room, and turn the TV on. Harry Dillion, the local news weatherman, is talking about the strange weather.
“Unexplainable weather patterns have been popping up recently throughout the central part of the state. No storm systems have shown up on our radars, so there’s almost no way for us to track these storms.”
I walk back into the kitchen and grab the jar of peanut butter to add to my apple slices. Opening the kitchen drawer, I grab out a butter knife, and head back into the living room.
“Another Maine teen has been reported missing: seventeen year old Missy Granger was last seen walking home from school last Thursday.” A school photo of Missy flashes across the screen. “At the moment, police have no leads. This most recent report brings the total tally up to seven girls. If you have any information, call 1-555-STP-CRME.”
Seven teens? That’s a little scary. I turn the TV off, grab my snack, and walk back upstairs. Suddenly, I am overcome with an eerie feeling that leaves goose bumps on my arms. I look around the room, looking for anything strange or out of place, but can’t find anything. Everything is in order, but it feels like someone is watching me. The feeling leaves as quickly as it came, making me wonder if I ever even felt it.
I sit on the bed and prop myself against the wall, attempting to get comfortable. “Ugh, you can do this Ryanne. You need to do this,” I tell myself.
Opening up to the page I left at, I begin to read again. I only make it a few sentences, but I stop reading and look around, wishing I could escape into another world that easily. It would be nice to go somewhere else, to start over fresh, with new people who don’t know of my history, and can’t judge me because of it.
Finishing the chapter, I close the book, and put it against my pillow. Looking around, I begin to realize how boring this weekend is going to be, all alone in this house, working on homework and studying. Oh, joy. I bang my head against the wall. Realizing how much force I used, I am anticipating the loud thud and a headache to start, but it never does. The wall is soft. Confused, I turn around and look at it. It is the same off-white color it has always been. I touch the wall, not quite sure what I am expecting, but it doesn’t feel any different. The wall is cold and hard again.
Puzzled, I turn around and scan the room. The strange feeling has returned. The bottom of my stomach tightens, and my airways constrict. I’m just being paranoid. Calm down. I always get like this when I’m home alone. Everything makes me paranoid. Every floorboard creak or electronic sound makes me question if I’m actually alone.
Closing my eyes, I lean back to rest against the wall, trying to calm my nerves. However, this time, I don’t hit the wall. I am thrust backward, and am overcome with a feeling of falling. The world around me begins to blur as bright colors, random shapes, and symbols cloud my vision.
Then everything goes black.