The next few days bleed into weeks and soon December has arrived, bringing with it freezing temperatures and the danger of slipping on ice every three metres.

Time seems to rush past, blurring the minutes and hours of the days, blending them together- a mess.

A jumble of information and events: school work; assignments, projects, fast approaching end of term exams, private life; arguments, shouting, noise, forced calm- flitting in and back out of your mind.

Its as though you are standing still, unmoving, and time spins its circle around you, faster and faster until you see only a blur and hear just a constant buzzing. It doesn't unnerve you, the way that time speeds up and you barely have time to register one day before the next week starts, its just that now there is no way for you take a step back and breathe, think about things clearly- your parents marriage disintegrating slowly, your grades falling, taking Bo for a walk, that man and his eyes, the feel of his lips on your skin.

After you had finished your art work, you stored the coat in your wardrobe amongst your jumpers and pullovers. Your mum never went through your wardrobe, so there was no danger of her getting it out and washing it, or enquiring.

Of course you had had every intention of giving the coat back, and on the Sunday after his unexpected visit, you had gone out on your bike, coat stowed in backpack. You ended up in the graveyard, after deciding that hanging around in an alley might not make the best impression on neighbours. You sat on the bench for a while before people started arriving for the Sunday service. You lingered, of course, and took your time getting back, dawdling in the hope you might run into him again. You didn't see him. So, upon returning home you had hung the coat up by the front door until your mother had questioned the smell of smoke and (new to you) whiskey that had started to spread from the door. So you had hung it up in your wardrobe and noticed that now your backpack smelt of the man, though really, that didn't bother you at all. After a few weeks, the smell had faded, along with the memory of the coat firmly stuffed into the recesses of your wardrobe and eventually, the memory of that cold Friday night and disturbance of Saturday morning.

It had been frighteningly easy to forget all about the man with dark eyes who made you feel so vulnerable yet strangely at peace. And from then on, time did not seem to heed its speed. It felt like a dream or as if someone had pressed the fast forward button. Your life was one big circle, and you were barely able to differentiate one day from the next. After a while, your mind seemed to rid itself of all structure. Yes, you ate, you talked, drank, laughed, breathed, it just didn't feel… right. Disjointed, set back, you saw your own life flit by in front of your eyes, unable to slow it. You'll wake in the morning, dress, have breakfast and leave for school. You pay enough attention in class, your grades are falling, but you're still top of the class and in the evening, you make it home safely. You have dinner, converse with your parents, do your work and then go to bed. You sleep.

You seem to sleep all the time. For a while, you just felt lost in your life, until you started dreaming. Not that you've never dreamed anything before, this is just the first time you wake up and are convinced it was real. You remember everything you saw. After a while, you see your life in two parts: one spent in bed, dreaming, sleeping, hoping- and the rest.

You have vivid dreams and find yourself waking in the night, bathed in sweat. They're not nightmares, per se; nothing chases you, you don't die, nothing jumps and scares you. You don't see much, everything is murky and you lie. You have to remember something, but you can't grasp it. You have to lie, you need to save someone. So you lie. To save a life. But you never find out if the person is saved thanks to your lie.

You wake up and are fearful you failed, you're drenched in blood, and it's too late. Its only sweat though, and after a while, you learn to ignore the dreams and the fear, and go back to sleep.

This night, you see a fox lying on the ground, surrounded by a group of people. You want to chase them away, want to tell them to leave the fox and just go. Something stops you though. One of them keeps asking you questions and you don't know why, but you lie. Something tells you to lie to protect the fox. You want to save the fox. The man steps towards you, grabs you by the leather coat you're wearing and rips something off the left sleeve. Bringing his hand up, you see him clutching a faded red band. He turns around and throws it towards the fox on the ground. As the band lands, it turns black, lengthens and wraps itself around the russet animal, binding its legs together.

You see pain and anguish in the animal's eyes but also something mad, slightly delirious that puts you momentarily off going to help it. After a split seconds deliberation however, you wrench yourself free from the mans grip and rush to the fox's side, wanting to undo the bind around its leg. You hear a commotion behind you and turn around slightly; to see the man raise something before a brilliant flash of green light blinds you.

Jolting up, it takes you a few minutes to get your bearing. It was just a dream, you remind yourself. Breathing heavily, you lie back down and close your eyes before stifling a scream. When you closed your eyes you saw the dream again, a flash of green which you remember from somewhere, and on the ground, no longer a fox, but the crumpled, bound, bloodied body of a man. The outline of the corpse is burnt into your eyelids and convulsing, your body shakes and shudders and you feel tears fall in despair. You've never had such a strong reaction to a dream, and you wonder if you're coming down with a fever. Clambering shakily out of bed, you open then window and when you turn back around, you see again the corpse on the ground and slowly, you begin to recognize the man. Walking towards your wardrobe you open the door and rummage around, reaching to the farthest corner, scrabbling to feel the rough leather texture. Shoving the other clothes to the side of the rail, you see the coat and go to grab it from the hanger before you recoil: it's not just the coat, there's a body in the coat. Long hair partly obscures the face, but you can just about see, set deep into the pale, waxy, sallow skin, dark grey eyes that stare at you, unblinking, unseeing- dead.

Stumbling back you trip in your haste to retreat and shut the door. Just before your head hits the floor, you see the coat drop from the hanger, fall onto the bottom of the wardrobe and the body drops towards you. Raising your hands to protect yourself, you hear a crunch, feel it resonate in your head as your skull cracks and your last breath comes out in a scream as you-

Wake up.

It was all just a dream. You must have fallen asleep in exhaustion. Propping yourself up, you see your window- open. Hesitantly you glance towards the wardrobe and almost faint from shock: the door is open, and there is a coat lying on the floor. No body, just the coat in a harmless heap. Next to it, you see a piece of paper. Puzzled and intrigued, but wary, you climb out of bed (again? For the first time this night?) and pick up the paper.

Scrawled onto it is a note 'your bad dreams are getting more and more frequent. Try to remember what they tell you. But trust no one. Don't tell anyone- it's a dangerous world'

A breeze flits in trough the window, making you shiver. As you close the window, you glance down into the garden. Content about not seeing anything unnerving, you smile before you hear a rustle. A shape moves out of the shadows and you hold your breath, hardly daring to look. Peering past the window frame, you see a fox slink its way across the grass. Sighing in relief, you close the window and the curtains before you remember the dream. What if the fox is in danger? You'll need to warn it- you fling the curtains back to see- nothing. The garden is empty. No sign of any animal.

Maybe you're going mad. It was, after all, just a dream

I don't think I can apologize enough for not updating earlier. Appaling effort on my behalf, I know. I suck, sorry. Uh, yeah. Not sure how this story will get to the end, I don't really know what this chapter was about. It might not make sense, sorry. Writers block was to blame for not getting this chapter finished and unmotivation for not typing it our earlier.

Hope you enjoy it anyway. :)

And a warning- don't expect the next chapter for a while: I haven't even written it yet, let alone have any idea how to fuse them together. Sorry :s