I’m back in my bed, back in reality, back in my body.
2. RETROSPECT
As I gradually return to consciousness, I hit the snooze on my phone and pull the covers over my head. It’s only 6:45 a.m. I can enjoy the comfort of my bed for a few more minutes. My mother has other ideas though. Like clockwork, she comes into my room and performs the same routine she has every morning for as long as I can remember. She dramatically slides the curtains open, pulls the covers ceremoniously off my face, kisses me on the cheek and whispers, “time to get up, bug” in my ear. I didn’t like it when I was eight, and I like it even less at seventeen. But somehow it works every time.
The chilly October sunlight shines brightly through my windows and reflects off the pale purple walls in that perfect morning way that mater-of-factly says, “you’re done sleeping.”
I fight against every fiber of my being and drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom to attempt to make myself look pulled together for school. As I turn on the water in my shower and step in, my thoughts turn to the unpleasant part of my walk last night. It was one of only a few times in my life that I’ve experienced what we walkers refer to as a twisted walk.
The irregular appearance of seemingly regular things in a walk is your first warning that something isn’t right. It’s almost like a failsafe built in to walking. It simply means get out. It's also a warning that something sinister, such as a dark walker, is present.
To connect with another person in a walk, you have to share a physical connection to the person, whether through a blood bond or in actual physical distance in reality. A dark walker, on the other hand, can find you anywhere. They don’t have rules like the rest of us.
The dark walker we encountered last night is something every dreamwalker fears. Dark walkers create a world that nobody wants to be a part of. It’s a world full of nightmares, unthinkable terror and creatures you wouldn’t want to envisage.
I spend my time in the shower replaying each and every element that I can remember in my head, trying to complete the puzzle. My memory allows me to rebuild parts of the dark walker's face and the shape and size of his body. I could describe him if needed, and will most likely be able to recognize him if I come into contact with him again. I don’t know what he wants with me, how or if I know him, or why we are connected.
I can’t even begin to imagine why a dark walker would come after us. We are just two incredibly ordinary high school seniors with no secrets, no wealth, and no coveted possessions. Our parents aren’t exactly superheroes—Zoë’s dad is a professor of African-American Studies at Franklin Pierce and her mom teaches painting at the New Hampshire Institute of Art. My dad works as a financial analyst and my mom is a homemaker who spends most of her time volunteering at my little brother's school. Even if there was some sort of disgruntled client of my dad’s, I doubt they’d go after his daughter in a dreamwalk.
The more I think about how absurd it is for him to want anything to do with us, the more determined I become to figure out what the connection is. I definitely need to talk to my dad about everything that happened last night.
My thought provoking shower and elaborate web of dreamwalking analysis abruptly comes to an end with a loud knock on my bathroom door, courtesy of my mother. “You have to be out the door in twenty minutes, Emma!”
“I’m coming,” I grumble in response to her as I reluctantly turn off the water. I dry myself off and give my hair a quick rub down with another towel before heading back into my bedroom in search of something to wear.
I throw on my favorite, well-worn pair of skinny fit blue jeans and a lightweight sweater and lace up a pair of black Converse sneakers. I quickly run a blow dryer over my damp hair before twisting it into a quick over-the-shoulder braid.
I grab my book bag and head down the stairs for breakfast. My little brother Jonah, who doesn’t carry the dreamwalking trait, is already parked at the kitchen table shoving toaster waffles in his mouth. I give