Dying Doesn't Seem So Cruel

The night is cold; I'm huddling inside myself to preserve my body heat. I stumble over a tree root. Why am I in the forest? I look around, try to find a reason to my location, when I see a streak of white. My heart races in my chest, and I swallow the lump in my throat. The river reflects the moonlight; there are two milky orbs: one in the sky, the other in the ripples. There's my face, scared and cold and frightened. I scream as another face appears. I see only Emmett's wide smile before everything fades to black.

"Dahlia, sweetie, wake up."

I jerked to consciousness in my father's arms. My mother was standing in the doorway to my room, already dressed for work. At that moment, my alarm clock began blaring; we all jumped at the sudden noise, and my dad reached over to shut it off.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It was just a nightmare."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm fine now."

He kissed my forehead. "Alright. Get ready for school."

"Okay."

My parents left my room, and I got out of bed. Quickly, I went through my morning routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and putting on a little bit of eyeliner. I grabbed my bookbag and Discman, and ran down the stairs. My mother and father had already went to work; a honk outside caught my attention. I smiled and stepped onto the front porch.

"Hey."

"Good morning, beautiful."

"Hurry up!" Alice called.

I locked the door and allowed Emmett to carry my bag. He lifted me into the back of the Jeep, then followed suit. This time, we sat down. I turned on the Discman and found track six. He took one earbud and put it in his ear.

"Edward got me into this song."

"What is it?"

"It's called 'Pictures of You' by the Cure."

"It's beautiful."

"It is. What's wrong?"

"N-nothing. Just had a bad dream last night."

"Oh. Are you cold?"

"A bit."

"Is that better?" he asked, smiling, once he wrapped his jacket around me.

"Much. Thanks.'

"So what was your dream about?"

"Um," I paused so he could help me out of the Jeep. "I'll explain in a note."

"Okay."

Edward gazed at me, his bronze hair ruffled slightly by the breeze. I forced a smile and headed off to first hour. How was I going to tell Emmett I'd had a dream about him killing me?