Her skin shivering and eventually growing numb.
She looked straight ahead again and concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She ignored the pins and needles sensation across her skin, and the one in her mind. The one that wouldn't end until she looked back up. She had gotten used to the sound of rushing wind and her shuffling footsteps. She almost missed the sound of another pair behind her. She slowed, hesitating; then she turned around. She saw the outline of another person for a split second, and then they were gone. She blinked, the after image burning as she blinked still. They had been tall, dressed in black with a hood up. She didn't know anyone like that personally, though she'd seen plenty of hot goth types around college. A roar overhead quickly returned her to the unreality above her. The clouds were thinning, turning to mist as something tried to claw it's way through the barrier made. Lucy eyes widened, air catching in her throat as she walked backwards. She saw red eyes, fangs and nails as long as her leg through the now pulsating clouds. They kept trying to reform, only to have a long black tail, lined with sharp metal spikes, cut through them.
“Wake up,” a male voice said behind her. Lucy spun, blue eyes taking in what she had thought was a trick. He had pale skin and violent hued eyes. He was looking upwards, wincing as the clouds were torn at.
“Who are you?” Lucy asked, confused.
“A figment. One that's telling you to wake up,” he replied, his impatience obvious as he met her eyes. Steely determination shone in them. She could see there was strange, black tattoos over his body, moving and fading. Exotic, swirling patterns she'd always loved looking at in tattoo books.
“Now!” he yelled, making her jump back.
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up fast. She looked up but the sky was normal, the clouds moving in small gatherings. No monster waiting above. And no strange boy either. She grabbed her sketchbook, remembering the lake and what she had been drawing. She opened to a blank page and began sketching. Her memory was already blurring, eliciting sounds of frustration from her throat. She clicked her tongue and slumped forward. She'd managed to draw a long fringe, half-hidden by a hood; feather soft lashes and piercing eyes. A thin nose and high cheekbones with parted pale lips. Beside them a black circle swirling softly within another circle, flowering out into a long, delicate tail. She couldn't remember his clothing with enough detail, but it didn't matter. She wanted to run to the art room so that she could mix the right colours for his eyes. A glance at her phone told her she had to worry about English first. At least she could try and do what Dr Franklin said.