All The Lost Souls: preview
Chapter 1 sneak peek
Have you ever had that moment when you wake up from dreaming about yourself at a certain age? Well tonight it happened again, and for me it happens often. Occasionally I relive that moment on the playground. In my dreams though I turn instead of going straight. I look where I am going instead of looking back at Lucas. Or at the very least in my dreams I tell him I don’t want to play tag today. Either way I’m eight and in that old accident where I hit my head, but in my dreams I try to change what happened. I never actually change the outcome. I always end up bloody and damaged. In the end, the memory of the accident never has come back to me the way the doctors said it would. I still have no idea what happened but of course that doesn’t stop my brain from having the dream over and over again.
You would think that twenty years later it would stop but here we are reliving it again. Throwing the covers off, I shake my body as if I can shake the dream out of my skin. I take a peek at the window and Its still dark out, so I don’t really think I’ve been asleep that long. Everything is still a little foggy and I roll over to try to go back to sleep and salvage some of my night’s rest. If this keeps up, tomorrow is going to be a rough one at work. People don’t really want a dental assistant who’s falling asleep on the job. That just sounds like a good way to earn a lawsuit. My pillow is that horribly warm temperature and if I am being honest kind of on the sweaty side, so I turn it to the cold side, and stick one foot out of the covers to regulate my temperature. With a huff, I roll over and consider shutting the curtains more so that the street light isn’t quite so bright.
That’s when I hear footsteps downstairs. My heart leaps in my throat because I’m single and live alone. At this point I’d love to tell you that I have a friend that comes over occasionally in the middle of the night, but I don’t. There are also no hidden weapons in my house so that I can protect myself. Here I am without protection, I only have one choice. There may actually be more choices but at the moment none come to mind. Quietly, I grab my cell phone and dial 911. Sliding off the side of my bed furthest from the door I put my back to the wall. Facing my open door, I move slowly towards my closet trying my best to not make a sound. The fibers from the carpet scratch against my bare thighs and my breath catches with every single movement of my body. I just know the person down stairs can hear my every move. The picture in my mind is a man standing just below me down stairs listening to my floor squeaking against the weight of my body, tracking me until I stop and he knows my exact location.
Opening the closet slowly, I silently beg it to stop making those annoying little sounds that could get me killed. You know, the ones that only happen when you are trying your best to be as quiet as a mouse. My phone call finally goes through as I am closing the closet door. “911 what’s your emergency” a peppy girl on the other end asks. I can only assume her name is Autumn or Summer. I begin to ramble at her, explaining in my lowest whispering voice that someone is in my house, and tell her to hurry. My address pops out of my mouth before I know it and pray she herd me correctly considering I am whispering. Her job is to keep me on the phone and calm me down but I hang up as soon as she has the information. I’m not going to let a small sound alert my intruder to where I am so I turn the phone off for now. It’s just me and my intruder as I sit here and wait for the police to show up. Please oh please let Lucas be working tonight so that he hears the call. I can hear steady footsteps as he creeps up my stairs ever so slowly. The floorboards let off a small squeak with his every move letting me know his exact location. The fear builds in me as I realize that he isn’t wandering through my house trying to find his way around. He is heading straight for me. This person has been in my house before. This person can be someone I know and have invited in thinking they’re a friend or someone that’s trustworthy. Suddenly, he’s in my room. I don’t actually know if it’s a “he” but I just assume so because most women aren’t so bold as to break into a home and go looking for the residents.
Trying my hardest I stay silent even though every bone in my body is shaking from fear and adrenaline. I calm my breathing and put an old sweater that was on the floor over my mouth as tears begin to run down my face. Huddling in the corner of the closet I try to be quiet but my body begins to shake even harder against my will. There is a small box on the floor that I am hiding behind. It isn’t even big enough to cover my feet making my situation hilarious to anyone other than myself. There are long dresses next to me but couldn’t hide me even if I tried and it’s too late at this point anyway seeing as he is so close. Trying to calm myself I take deep quiet breaths as his footsteps come closer and closer to where I’m hiding. More tears begin to flow down my face and in my panicked brain I wonder why the cops aren’t here yet? He is in my room and in my head he is looking in all the obvious hiding spots like under the bed or behind the door. I know at some point he is going to check the closet because it’s one of those places. It’s a place that my intruder will check and he will find me crouching behind my stupid little tiny little box. Never being a believer, I feel like a hypocrite when I begin to beg god to step in and help me. I’m not even being picky any god will work. I’d even take Zeus at this point. The shadow of his shoes passes under the closet door, and any minute now he is going to yank it open and see me sitting there hiding. I wait impatiently thinking he will fling the door open but he doesn’t, he sits down outside of my closet door. My entire body goes cold with the fear of it all because he evidently knows where I am hiding and can get me at any point he wants.