"Mom!" I cried out as I ran out of my room. "Have you seen the rest of the hair curlers?"

My mother looked up from her magazine while lying in bed and took in the sight of her daughter before her. Half of my hair was up in foam rollers while the rest was swaying around my shoulders and dripping down onto my favorite faded blue night shirt. Green shorts popped out from beneath the tee and were living up to their name; short.

"No, Lauren. No idea. You're the only one in the house with long enough hair to use them. Besides, you already have wavy hair, why do you need to curl it?"

I turned away from my parent's room and grumbled something about "It's not the same thing" and ventured into the bathroom down the hall. Mother laughed softly from her room, knowing, as I had been numerously told, her daughter took after her in many ways.

Some song I had heard on the radio was stuck in my head and my toe started tapping while I observed out bathroom shelves to try and find those stupid curlers. Finally, the pink and blue accessories showed up and I ventured back to my room. When I went to look in the mirror, I noticed the dark circles that had recently shown up underneath my eyes. This one dream had been haunting me, and every night I awoke feeling panicked and drenched in sweat. I think the worst part though was that feeling of screaming, yet nothing was coming out of my mouth. The only thing I could remember was fire, and tons of it, engulfing this building, and somehow I knew people were trapped inside with no way out. And there was this lingering sense I couldn't shake as I lie awake at night trying to calm my racing heart. A feeling that I could have done something to prevent the tragedy happening within my head, and it was starting to drive me crazy.

My old school councilor had said that dreams never really mean anything, that they are just a projection of my imagination or whatever. But sometimes I wondered if this was true or just something people said to justify what happens within their alternate realities. Did murderers dream of the various ways to kill a person before they carried out the act? Or were their heads filled with made up worlds and cotton candy rainbows? Sometimes being human was a lot more confusing than it was worth.

So as I finally shut my laptop for the night and started to think about how school would go tomorrow, I began wishing I was still back home. Or, at least where I considered to be my home. My family and I had moved out here about three weeks ago to Beacon Hills, California all the way from Arizona; in a town that no one had heard of smack dab in the middle of the desert. But I loved it there; the sand and the rocks and the heat. Everything called for adventure, but here in the city it felt like all that needed to be seen already was. But, as dad said, his job was more important than a pinprick town on the map, so he packed me and my mother up and flew us to California. He was an airplane pilot and the jet company he worked for needed a few people out here. Lucky for us, he got chosen. And we got moved.

I rolled over onto my side and looked up at the photo of my best friend and I standing on a giant rock in her backyard and making goofy faces. After a few moments I felt my eyes grow damp so I pushed the frame down and flipped to my back, starting to get comfortable for the night.

The soft tune of Clare de Lune floated in the background, and my eyes fluttered with sleep weighing them down. I was so, so tired from waking up every night screaming and no one being able to hear, and I hoped that this night would break the ritual.

Across the room my curtains softly flowed with the breeze of the wind, and I was grateful that it cooled down at night here.

In no time at all, I closed my eyes and was finally in a deep, undisturbed sleep.

I awoke a few hours later with a small sense of panic blooming in my chest. Not again, I thought, but then realized I wasn't outside the warehouse watching it burn, but in my own bed, so I relaxed. The wind was blowing more fiercely now, and a smell drifting through my room sent my senses on high alert. Smoke. Unexpectedly, it was entering my room from under my door, so I flew out of bed and flung the barrier open. I was met by a wall of fire that was moving across the entire floor, and as I tried to scream for my parents a gust of smoke caught in my throat and I was sent back reeling. The curtains moved violently against my windows, and I thought that maybe jumping was my only option. But when I saw what was outside my mind was swayed. A black abyss had swallowed my house, and below was nothing but air.

A voice was calling from down the hole though, and I stuck my head out to hear it better. "Mom?" I screamed, "Dad! Is that you?"

"Join us…"it called from down the cavern. "Just jump down…"

I grabbed my hair and felt panic rising quickly within me, but something felt off. "This can't be happening, this is just a dream. A dream Lauren, and you need to wake – "

Just as I had thought nothing could go worse, it did. My door flew open and the fire moved inside. I backed into a corner as much as I did, and just as the flames were about to grab me –

I woke up. I bolted up; breathing heavy and hands were fisted around my sheets beside me. That dream had been the worst of them all. Never had I been in the fire, merely just an observer. Glancing over at the clock, I saw that it was already five am. I groaned as I thought of both of my parents already downstairs eating breakfast and getting ready to go. The airport was a bit of a commute, so my mom dropped my dad off and then went on her way to her new real estate job.

The house seemed especially lonely in these early hours, when it creaked and groaned its good mornings. I covered my head with my sheets and tried to fall back asleep; knowing that only six hours of sleep would lead to a terrible first day in a new school.

Luckily I did manage to sleep a bit more. When my alarm went off, I felt much more rested than I had a few hours ago. I stretched my arms up and over, feeling the pull in my muscles as good. My right arm smacked into something that I figured was just a box I had forgotten to move last night, but then it did something that most boxes don't do on their own. It moved.

Opening my eyes for the first time that morning I blinked away the sleep still fighting in my eyes and looked over to my right. There, totally just sleeping away, was a boy.

"What the shit?!" I screamed as I scooted backwards towards to edge of my bed. I didn't notice the edge and went toppling over, my body now matching how my mind felt. Heart beating fast, I hid against the outside of my sheets and peeked over at the graceful form presiding on my mattress. Not really knowing what to do, I watched him for a few minutes. He was cute. No, more than cute. He was downright beautiful. And he was sleeping on my bed.

"Breath, Lauren, just go wake him up," I whispered to myself to try and raise my confidence level.

Cautiously, I reached over and poked him lightly on the arm. "Hello? Are you…umm…lost?" I had no idea what to say. This was probably the weirdest situation I had ever been in, hands down.

His eyes flew open to reveal a shade of blue that rivaled the ocean, and he blinked up at me a few times. God, why did he have to be so beautiful?

He looked at me for a minute, and then said, "Can I help you with something?"

"Well," I replied, caught a bit off guard. "You're kinda, um, sleeping in my bed. And I don't really know who you are. And…yeah, that sums it up I think."

So. I had woken up to go to school and found a gorgeous, mysterious stranger sleeping on my bed. Everything has to go up from here, right? I thought.

But oh, dear lord, how wrong indeed I was.

What do ya'll think? R&R please! I'll have another chapter up on Thursday:)