Lily

S cream, Lily! Scream for help!

No matter how hard I try, no sound comes out when I will my vocal cords to work. The burning sensation building in my chest is suddenly met with an icy cold sensation. It’s so cold that it steals my breath, effectively cutting off any attempt I make to call for help.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Please, no.

The wind swirls around me, and it sounds like I’m in a tunnel. My hair slaps me in the face so hard and fast that it feels like I have tiny cuts on my cheeks. Then I feel something warm and wet—a sensation that doesn’t mix well with the icy cold one.

I can’t reach up to touch my cheeks because my arms are pinned to my sides. I command them to work the same way I commanded my voice to work, but once again, my commands are useless.

Suddenly, I feel a hard jolt, then an intense pressure on my chest. The oppression is so intense it feels like an elephant is pressing down squarely on my sternum.

Every breath I manage to pull into my lungs burns so badly that I feel like I might pass out from the pain. I’m disoriented until suddenly, I feel that all too familiar feeling of falling. I’m weightless as the world around me blurs.

I know what comes next, and just like all the times before, I try to relax. I will my jaw to unclench and my body to follow suit, but it’s just as fruitless as all the times before. The only movement I can manage is to release my clenched hands. My fingers spread wide, the wind threading through them. It feels like when I was a child and opened the window in the back seat of the car. I’d stick my hand out and pretend I could fly.

I close my eyes, seeking my one refuge. His eyes .

My prayer is answered when his deep gray eyes find me, but this dream is different. I can see more than just eyes the color of smoke, with amber surrounding the pupil and flecks of white running through them.

His perfect, pouty mouth moves rapidly. Instead of bringing serenity like they had every other time, his eyes are intense with fear. The sheer amount of panic I see in his gaze scares me even more.

This isn’t right. This isn’t what happens.

He’s terrified, and he’s calling for me. Lily! No! No-no-no! Not like this. Not now. Not ever!

I jolt awake as the sound of Luka Russo screaming my name echoes in my brain. My breathing is harsh and labored. My room is pitch black, except for the alarm clock in cool blue tones that reads 2:14 A.M. I’m covered in sweat, and my hands are shaking from the most intense adrenaline dump I’ve ever experienced.

What was that?!

Panic has already set in, and it only becomes worse as I slowly come back to consciousness.

It felt so real.

So real that I can still hear the desperation in his voice. I can still feel the cold air biting at my bare skin, and my cheeks feel wet.

I reach up, my hands still shaking, but I ignore it as I touch my cheek. I pull my hand back and notice that my fingertips are damp.

I must have been crying .

My dream has never been that intense or that vivid . The terror in Luka’s voice loops in my mind. I can’t unhear it. I can’t erase the feeling of helplessness .

Especially when I realize what it all means. Sensations like the cold, the wetness on my cheeks, and the pressure on my chest have never been there before.

Hearing his voice .

All of it is new .

Undiluted fear takes up residence in my body, making me physically ill. I jump up from my bed and run to my bathroom just down the hall. My shoulder slams into the door frame as I stumble through, making it just in time to lose the contents of my stomach in the toilet.

What am I going to do? I thought I had more time to figure this out. My great-grandma’s dream didn’t come true until she was in her fifties. I’m twenty-one! How is this fair?

I wasn’t able to go back to sleep last night. My mind kept replaying all the new details of the dream. I can still hear him screaming my name. It was most certainly Luka in my dream, but I don’t trust myself anymore.

What if my mind is playing tricks on me? What if Luka has absolutely nothing to do with my death, and my mind has just filled the unknowns with a boy that has been consuming my thoughts lately?

I groan in frustration. I don’t know what to think anymore. When Grandma May first told me about her mother, I was scared. Panic set in quickly, but the fact that my dream hadn’t changed in years settled those fears, at least in the short term.

Last night brought all those fears and panic to the forefront. I’ve been scrambling while trying to come up with every excuse I can think of to explain why my dream would have more details. Some of those excuses include using my silly crush to explain away Luka playing a major role in it. The one explanation that makes the most sense is the one I don’t want to face.

I’m closer to my death than I’m willing to admit.

I’m supposed to see Grandma May in two weeks. All I can hope for is that I won’t have any more dream progressions until then.

Last night was enough to scare the ever-loving crap out of me, and I don’t want to ever experience that level of panic again. It makes my heart hurt and my pulse pound to admit that I could experience it in real life in the very near future .

I can’t dwell on that, though. I need to figure this out before anything else happens. The fact that Russo was a complete and utter dick to me the other night at the library only heightens my uneasiness about all this.

What started as a way for me to figure out how Luka was involved in my dream has quickly turned into an unrequited crush on my part. The other night made it very clear that Luka doesn’t see me as anything more than an acquaintance.

I won’t lie and say his cold demeanor didn’t sting, but it was also a wake-up call. Finding out what role he plays in my demise is more important than a silly grade school crush.

I promise myself that I won’t lose sight of my mission. Now isn’t the time to become distracted.

It’s a matter of life or death, and Luka may be the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on, but he isn’t worth my life.

My phone pings, and I seriously consider not looking at the incoming text message. I've been curled up on my couch in my pajamas for the better part of the day, watching reruns of Bones , my favorite show.

I love Temperance Brennon. She's strong and bold and isn't scared to go after what she wants in life—well, everything except Booth. She's too scared to let herself get close to someone else after her parents' disappearances.

I love watching the push and pull between them, and I love even more how patient he is. He knows she’s it, and deep down, she knows it, too. The show has everything—suspense, drama, mystery, and a love story with the bonus of anatomy and medical facts sprinkled in.

This show is my secret obsession.

I’ve been trying and failing to forget about my dream by submersing myself in the show, but it isn’t working. I’ve barely paid attention to one of my favorite episodes. The one where a serial killer kidnaps Brennon, and Booth is the only one who doesn’t give up hope of finding her.

I sigh and pause the show as I pick up my phone. I might as well see who it is because sitting here dwelling on my messed-up situation is not helping me.

Stella: What are you up to, Lily Pad?

I smirk at her use of the silly nickname she gave me the first week we met. I asked her why she called me that, and she said, “Because it’s fun, and you seem like a fun person. Simple as that,” and it just stuck.

Me: Watching Bones.

Stella: Uh oh. What happened?

Me: Nothing. Why do you think something happened?

Stella: Because you only watch that when you’re all up in your feelings.

Me: That’s not true. I watch it all the time, and I’m not all in my feelings.

Stella: Pleeaaassseee. You cannot tell me that show doesn’t give you hope that if Brennon and Booth can finally figure out their shit after all those years that anybody can do it.

I laugh because I hadn’t even thought about it like that, but she’s kind of right. It takes Brennon for-freaking-ever to figure out that a life with Seeley Booth was worth fighting for and risking it all.

Me: Don’t hate. Their love story is epic.

Stella: Didn’t say it wasn’t, but you’re avoiding the question. Tell me. You know you want to…

Did I mention that Stella and Tessa are basically the same person with how they both bully me into telling them crap? The problem is that it works. Usually. But not this time.

Me: Just some stuff on my mind lately.

Stella: Did my brother do something?

I nibble my lip because technically he didn’t, but also yes. It’s confusing and not something I can just blurt out. It also isn’t something I want to talk about to anyone because of how crazy I feel.

Who has dreams of how they die? I can see it now. Oh, hey, bestie! I’m just over here freaking out because I had a premonition about how I die, and my grandma says it’s probably going to come true. Oh, by the way… Somehow, your hot-as-heck brother is involved.

Ah, yes. That would go over so well.

Me: No, he didn’t do anything.

Except remind me of all the reasons why I need to let this silly crush go. His indifferent expression when I asked him if I did anything to upset him flashes through my mind, making my stomach twist.

Stella: Well, that’s a first. Wanna go to dinner? I’m starving.

I look at the clock on the oven in the small but fully equipped kitchen just off the living room. It's 6:03 P.M.

Today is Saturday, and I don't have to work at the coffee shop, so I took full advantage of not having to leave the house. My hair is a mop on top of my head. I lift my arm and smell my armpits, quickly jerking my head back from the offending smell.

That’s not good . I need to get my butt off this couch and hose myself off because food does sound good right about now.

Me: Mexican in thirty?

Stella: Hell yeah! Cheese dip and margs are calling our names.

I climb off the couch with the enticing promise of the best comfort food around. I hope going out with my bestie will help get my mind off everything that I can’t control. And especially off of Luka Russo.