Morning

Kyle

I watched her walk home last night. I won't have another threaten her chastity with his presence. The threat will be disposed of in some manner. My soul tells me I should just take her, but my jealous side is telling me to take him first and rid her of his presence, then take her away.

Sometimes I wonder if Beautiful dreams of me…I awoke her this morning, for the first time…tapping on a window can do wonders for a person who is sleeping…

I have begun to think about where I want to get ready for her. The house is close – closer than one would think is safe. But I cannot run with her. If I hold her close, then she cannot stray. She will realize more how much she needs me when she can see her old place and where she was outside the window, so close. She'll be able to see how much she has gained…how beautiful…

Julie

We were at the daycare center, waiting for some friends to arrive. It was just me and Rob, and for some reason we were both shaking. Rob had an expression of terror on his face, but he wouldn't respond when I asked what was wrong. Finally, I got frustrated and asked him to point at what was wrong. He pointed, and I saw a set of eyes crouched in the shadows. Finally being noticed, the man came out.

He was dressed in black. The same man that had been stalking us earlier, except taller, with more muscle. Grin that spread from ear to ear. Neither of us could move, and the man advanced towards us. He pointed at Rob, and Rob fell down. He walked over to me, and touched my chin. His cold, clammy hand touched me and left me feeling diseased, unused and unwanted. I tried to squirm away, but I was captured by the man's facial expression. Was he human? I wasn't sure.

His hand traveled down in a squiggly, horrendous line down my neck. It made me shiver, but not with anticipation. My stomach turned, and I thought I was going to throw up. I tried to get away, but even though he didn't physically hold me, I couldn't move. All I could see was the depths of the orifices of his face, and how they molded and changed right as I was staring at him.

His face turned from his… to Adam's. The hand was still cold, and by now had traced a line around my neck and back up to my chin, with only two fingers. Adam's face was there…but it still wasn't right. I was thinking at him, screaming in my head, to get the hell away from me. The man's face changed back into the mysterious dump man's, and his hand traveled rudely down to my left breast. He squeezed it hard, and then twisted my sensitive nipple without mercy. I found somewhere within in me, strength, and I screamed for all I was worth.

I bolted up in my bed, waking drenched in sweat and shaking. The clock read 6:36. I sighed. There was no use trying to go back to sleep. I couldn't remember what I dreamed but I was in no mood to fall back asleep. If my body was that reactive to a dream…yeah. I decided to crawl out of bed instead of chance another horrible dream. Maybe I could even get some quiet time before Ray descended and created hell for everyone.

Yawning, I got out of my bed, trying to fight off the black tunnel that wanted to encase my eyes. As I stood up, I looked at myself in the mirror. Grinning at my own reflection, I bent down and stretched, trying to touch my toes. I leaned back, until I could see my ceiling, then stood up straight again. I breathed in, stretched out my arms, and breathed out. My reflection stared back at me – slightly more awake, but grumpy looking.

I took off my nightshirt and opened my drawer, taking out some clothes for the day. I pulled my sports bra over my head, getting used to the tightness around my rib cage and adjusting it so it was comfortable. Next, I pulled on Rob's wife beater, the one I had stolen from him. Over that, I pulled on my black T-shirt that read "Runs with scissors" in a bloody red font.

I found a pair of socks and staggered downstairs. That dream had taken a toll on me for some reason, leaving me feeling more tired than when I had gone to sleep.

I opened the pantry's wooden door and looked above me. A few inches above my head, was our shelf of cereal. I took down the box of Apple Jacks and put it on the counter. I shut the pantry, and almost mechanically, took out a bowl and a spoon. I poured some, and then put the cereal back. I yanked open the refrigerator and searched for the milk. I took it out, and held the refrigerator open with my right foot. My left foot was three feet away, balancing me as I poured my milk, snapped the top back on, and put it back, allowing the refrigerator to finally shut like it wanted to. The cooler kicked on inside of it, making a whirring noise. I walked over to the table, placing my cereal on its flat, polished surface.

I was the first one up. Before sitting down to eat, I walked to our door, avoiding toys and our sleeping cat, Daniel. I walked out, shielding my eyes against the budding sun. I looked at the thermometer and saw the red liquid raising only to seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Shaking my head, I walked down my porch steps. The cool concrete of our sidewalk greeted my feet and I narrowly avoided grass seeping through the cracks. I stepped onto our black top driveway and walked in between my parents two vehicles. As I walked down to our mailbox, I breathed in the fresh summer air.

The cool breeze blew against my sweaty, abused skin, gently caressing my arms as I walked down. I smelled only the smells of budding life. This early in the morning, I couldn't smell car exhaust or related to pollution. My neighbor's grass was fresh cut, but I missed this fact of life as I stepped on a pebble. It's frustrating size dug perfectly into the calluses of my right foot. Swearing, I got it out of my skin and continued on my journey to the mailbox. I removed the newspaper from the little box and walked back up my driveway. I entered our dim household and set the paper on the table.

Satisfied, I looked at my cereal as I sat down in my chair. It sat there like a lump, but I would eat it anyway. I took a breath.

Almost beginning to savor the silence, my brother came thumping down the stairs. I nodded hello to him and swallowed the mouthful I had.

"Hey kid. You hungry?"

"Yeah!" He has way too much energy in the morning. Didn't I read somewhere that kids were supposed to have more energy later on? Not this one…

"What do you want?" I asked pleasantly. He took on a pleading look.

"Pancakes?"

"Try again. Mom will make those for you tomorrow anyway." I retorted. He wasn't going to make me do any more work than I had to.

"Pop-tarts?"

"Sure. Cinnamon Sugar sound good?"

"Yes please."  I stood up and went back over to the pantry. I let the door swing open, and avoided smashing my head. I took out a package of pop-tarts from the top shelf. I walked back over to the other side of the kitchen and removed the toaster from its hiding place. I set it on low – he hated burnt food – and put them in after tearing the package open. I pulled the little lever down and went back to my applejacks. Ray was still standing, rocking back and forth in between his heels and balls of his feet. He was really cute like that, but I knew it couldn't last forever. I stood up with my empty bowl, put it in the sink, and grabbed a paper plate. I waited for his food to be done, and took the crispy, golden Pop-Tarts out of the toaster, avoiding leaving my fingers on them, for fear of getting burnt. He walked over and took the plate from me.

"Thank you. I love you." He said to me. I shrugged, as if a thank you wasn't needed.

"I love you too Ray. Do you want some milk?"

"That'd be nice."

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