* * * * *
I'm in some sort of war zone. Machine-gun fire follows my vision where ever I look. Over to my left, one of the men I'm running with goes down.
He's been hit in the shoulder, and blood is pouring down his vest. The man on my right stops dead in his tracks, staring at his comrade writhing on the floor in agony. I recognise him as Private Marshall.
"Marshall! Don't stand there staring at the man! Help me get him to cover!"
He nods numbly at me, not bothering to answer the order. He just grabs the arm of Corporal Watson, and begins dragging him toward the tree line, and safety.
At the same moment, a rocket propelled grenade comes flying overhead, exploding not ten feet away from us. Shrapnel and pieces of earth hurtle through the air at what feels like breakneck speeds, cutting down the three of us, and cutting our armour and uniforms to pieces.
The world blacks out, and I feel at peace for what could be a minute, or an hour.
When I come to, I'm in what looks like a basement. A single light bulb flickers over my head, annoying me instantly, and aggravating a migraine.
Taking in my surroundings, I realise I've been captured; a set of knives and a camera are set up on a table in the left corner. I hear muttering and shuffling behind me, but am tied too tight to look around.
They soon come into view, each of the three men with a grin on their faces in anticipation. I brace myself, and as the first of my captors decides on a large hunting knife as his choice of weapon, the second a smaller, sharper knife, I know I haven't got a hope in hell.
As they descend, babbling at me in a language I can't understand, although I hear my name mentioned. Harrison. I close my eyes, and wait for the torture to begin.
My screams echo down the corridor.
* * * * *
Jolting awake for the third time in almost as many days, I noticed how different my dreams had been of late. While I felt as though I knew my character in them personally, I couldn't place where from. I felt like I knew him in reality, but, wracking my brains for some sort of clue gave me nothing.
I began to perform the ritual of checking my eyes, and as normal, there were no new marks, and they were as emerald as ever. Smiling, I glance at my clock. 5:07AM. It was getting earlier and earlier for my rude awakenings. I lay back in bed, and thought about the afternoons events.
Helaina had met me at the gates, as planned for once. Nine times out of ten she was late, or didn't turn up at all because she had detention, or simply forgot.
We walked along the road, chatting about all the irrelevant things, latest gossip, scandals, and hottest guys. Regular things.
Until we reached town.
I knew something wasn't right straight away, and for a while, I thought it was just me. But when Helaina noticed that there was a tall man in a black baseball cap trailing us from shop to shop, I knew that this time my paranoia wasn't a false alarm.
We were really being followed. Helaina insisted we went straight home, but I figured this guy would just follow us, and then he would know where we lived. She agreed.
So we sat on a bench in the middle of town,and waited for him to walk by. When he did (he had to), and walked out of sight, we practically ran in the opposite direction into the closest shop we saw. We then left through the back exit, to the long way home checking behind us every few seconds that he hadn't found us again.
I don't think he did.
And again, I'd had the feeling that I'd known him from somewhere, but had forgotten exactly. It was slowly eating away at me.
And I never did get those contacts.