A/N: I wrote this for school earlier in the year. The ending is very rushed and sort of a stretch because I had to turn the story in on time. I apologize. ) If you think I need to change the rating, please tell me...I wasn't sure... Please read, enjoy, and review!

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She stood over the bleeding body, knife in her hands. Red liquid dripped from the knife’s serrated edges, droplets spattering on the concrete floor.

What had she done?

Her mind was blank as she stared at the scene in front of her. It was almost pitch black in the old warehouse, but her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness. Cans, bottles, food wrappers, and other items of trash were scattered throughout the large room. The concrete floor was dirty, the broken, bleeding carcass in front of her only adding to the filth. A shadow covered the body; she realized that it was hers when it stumbled backwards along with her.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk; she could barely even breathe. Her mouth was dry, a bitter taste on her tongue. Her heart was the only sound she heard, its erratic beating filling up the entire room. Time seemed to stop.

The squeal of tires broke her away from her reverie, the car’s headlights traveling through a jagged hole in one of the boarded up windows and illuminating the dark space. Her muscles tensed, her body reacting to what her brain wouldn’t. Adrenaline raced through her body as she ran from the nightmare.

Shae’s eyes flew open and she shot up in her bed. Her mouth was pasty, and her throat raw. Had she been screaming?

Hurriedly, she glanced around her room. Her eyes fluttered over the familiar objects: her desk piled high with papers, the old mahogany rocking chair from her early childhood, the tickle-me-pink window shades she bought with her mother when she was seven. She had changed over the last ten years; the shades had not.

After assuring herself of her location, she slid her long legs off the bed. Her feet jumped back involuntarily; the floor was ice cold. Tentatively, not sure she’d be able to stand, Shae dragged the rest of her stiff and tired body to her feet. A glance into the mirror above her antique dresser showed her tangled dirty-blond hair, dark under-eye circles, and splotchy red cheeks.

What had happened last night? For some reason, Shae felt on edge, like she was hanging off of a cliff. She dragged her desk chair out from under the desk, its old wheels squeaking across the cold wooden floor. She lowered her body into the chair and tried to breathe deeply to clear her suddenly clouded mind. Shae remembered now: the nightmare. The awful vision played itself out over and over again in her mind. She almost couldn’t believe what she saw.

In the nightmare, she had murdered someone. She, Shae Mackenzie Dashwood, all-A student, captain of the basketball team, a culinary prodigy, had killed someone. She hadn’t seen the actual murder, but considering that the bloody knife had been in her hands, it was a logical deduction. Logic—something she was good at. But it was a dream; did logic even apply here?

It shocked her; it couldn’t really happen—right?

Shae sat in that chair, unmoving, for almost an hour. No matter how hard she tried to forget it, the nightmare wouldn’t leave her thoughts. She jumped up, still futilely trying to shake the whole experience from her mind.

After a quick and freezing shower, Shae dragged on a pair of jeans and a navy blue tank top and raced down the stairs. She almost slipped on the wooden steps halfway down, but caught herself on the railing just in time. A sprained ankle was the last thing she needed.

She slid into the kitchen, the comforting smell of coffee filling her nostrils. Her dad was placing folders and papers into his briefcase.

“Working on Saturday again, Dad?” Shae asked as she poured herself a huge mug of coffee.

“Yeah,” Her dad absentmindedly scratched his head, glancing around the huge kitchen to see if he was missing anything.

Shae studied her father’s face. The ever-present wrinkles in his forehead, a mouth that most-often smiled at her, but could scream at her five minutes later. The dark circles beneath his eyes told her how much sleep he was getting: not much. After a few minutes, his deep green eyes met her light blue ones.

“What?” he asked.

“You look so tired,” Shae replied. She shook her head. “Nevermind. I’m going to look around at restaurants downtown, ok?”

Her dad nodded. “That’s fine. Just don’t stay out too late. It’s dangerous.” Shae rolled her eyes at his back as he strode out the door.

Why do parents have to be so over-protective?

The nightmare flashed back into her head for a split second. Shae banished it quickly, but couldn’t stop an idea from occurring to her: should her parents be protecting themselves? She had dreamt about murdering someone!

Shae tried to focus on her coffee. Her first sip burned her tongue, but she kept gulping it down anyways. Somewhere in the house an alarm was going off. The shrill beeping was giving Shae a headache. She crept up the stairs, and, following the beeping, tip-toed into her parents’ room.

Through the cracked door Shae saw her mother buried beneath a huge white comforter. Sunlight filled the room, beams caressing her mother’s face. Creeping over to the clock, which read 1:30, Shae shut off the alarm.

“I love you, Mom,” Shae whispered softly, and kissed her mother’s cheek. As a doctor, her mom worked really weird hours sometimes. Shae knew she should just let her sleep. She hurried out, gently shutting the door behind her. The contrast of the dark windowless hallway to the bright master bedroom was startling.

Shae’s eyes adjusted as she headed to her own room. She grabbed her purse, making sure her wallet was inside, and car keys from the cluttered desk. After grabbing a gray sweater and shoving her feet into a pair of blue Pumas, Shae dashed down the stairs, almost slipping for the second time that morning.

Shae grabbed some pop tarts for breakfast and shuffled out the back door. Her dad had locked the side door, so all Shae had to do was shut the garage. She didn’t want anything to happen to her sleeping mother. She opened the garage door, slid into her dark blue Corolla, and backed out of the driveway. At the press of a button, the garage door closed after her.

Suddenly, Aly and AJ wailed at her from the car’s speakers. Shae rescued her ears by putting The Fray into her CD player. She hummed along and ate her breakfast as she headed downtown. She was trying to find a restaurant where she could get a job. As an aspiring chef, a job at one of the top restaurants in her town would be a dream come true. She’d been looking for places closer to her neighborhood, but none of them seemed to fit her. Downtown held some promising options.

She parked the car in a parking garage located on one of the main roads. A quick search in her purse turned up a list of restaurants along with their addresses. Shae pulled her cell and five dollars from the purse, then shoved it under her seat. She hopped out of the car and slipped the cell phone, money, and keys into her pockets. The air was crisp so Shae reached back into the car for her sweater, shrugging into it as she locked the car.

List in hand, she headed off for the first restaurant: Brahm’s. It didn’t sound too promising. Of course, you never know until you try, she thought. Shae was in and out of the restaurant in less than three seconds. A glance through the open doorway had revealed bright orange walls and roosters. Not her kind of environment. So she continued walking, enjoying the bustling scene in front of her.

Glancing back down at the list, Shae realized that restaurant two should be right in front of her. Her head rose up, and her eyes saw a beautiful white building, two stories high, with stained glass windows and extravagant architectural detail. The sign read “The Chateau.” After a quick talk with the manager, Shae learned that they didn’t really need help, but would call her if they ever found it necessary. Bummed, Shae left the restaurant. A loud growl startled her until she realized it was her stomach. I’ve only looked at two restaurants and I’m hungry already, she thought. Her cell phone told her that it was almost three o’clock, and after another protest from her stomach, Shae decided to eat lunch.

Her five bucks bought her a small ham sandwich, some chips, and a drink at Subway. Shae sat on a bench for half an hour, watching people go by, and eating her food. She read through her restaurant list once more and decided she had time to go to four or five more. Chucking her trash into a garbage can, she stood and headed off to The Blue Room.

When she turned the corner, the sun hit her in the face. She ducked her head to block the light and kept going. Suddenly, she slammed into someone. Shae forced her eyes upward, ignoring the sun momentarily in order to apologize. Her eyes fell upon a bearded man. His hair was scraggly, and his clothes were torn. He looked homeless, and though Shae was sure she had never met him before, he looked familiar. Shocked and confused, Shae managed to mutter an apology and shuffled off.

Walking a few blocks, Shae finally reached The Blue Room. It looked decent enough, and a “Help Wanted” sign in the door brightened her spirits. The interior was decorated simply yet elegantly with white table cloths, candles, and a soft turquoise color on the walls. Shae landed an interview almost immediately.

“One of our best chefs just got married and moved to Chicago,” the manager explained. “We’ve been looking for a replacement, but we haven’t found anyone suitable yet.” Shae filled out paper work, and arranged an interview for next Saturday. She also had to prepare an original dish and serve it to the manager and a few waiters.

Leaving the restaurant, Shae realized that it was almost five o’clock. Had she really spent that much time at The Blue Room? She decided to try one more restaurant. It was on a street she had never visited before, but the name was pretty: Agapito’s. Shae grabbed a free newspaper from a drug store, and read as she walked. She checked each building and sign as she went by, but she didn’t see Agapito’s, or the street she was supposed to be on.

As she walked, it started to get darker. The streetlights began to flicker to life all around her. Her cell phone’s clock told her it was thirty minutes after five. The wind had picked up during the day, and, shivering, Shae tightened her sweater around her. Each of her steps led her farther away from the center of downtown. I’ll only go a little further, Shae promised herself.

She spied the street sign twenty minutes later just as she was about to turn around. She glanced down the dimly lit street. Luckily, Agapito’s was the first building on her right. The lights were off, but Shae knocked on the door anyways. Not surprisingly, no one answered. She pushed on the door a little, and it creaked open.

No wonder no one was on this street. The restaurant was completely trashed. The tables were overturned, and utensils were everywhere. A flash of silver caught Shae’s eyes: a knife. She picked it up and examined it. It was a small, well-made chopping knife with a wooden handle. She had needed one just like it, actually. Deciding that no one would miss it, Shae slipped it into her pocket. She knew it was technically stealing, but what decent chef would let a knife like that go to waste? Not her.

A breeze flew through the door and caused all the tablecloths to wave. The hoot of an owl and the click of tiny claws on the floor convinced Shae not to search for anything else. She dashed out the door and slammed it behind her.

It was a bit darker, but Shae could see cars and people a few blocks ahead of her. She was walking towards the center of downtown when she heard footsteps behind her. A quick glance to her right revealed an alley. Shae knew it could end badly if the alley had a dead end, but what if there was an exit closer to people on the other side? As the footsteps neared her, she decided to take her chances.

Ten steps into the alley, Shae felt a tap on her shoulder. Her hand pulled the knife from her pocket and she whirled around. A shadowy figure stood in front of her. It was him, the man she had run into before.

What does he want with me???

“Do you know where…” the man uttered, but it was too late. Shae had already shoved the knife into his chest.

She stared straight ahead, gasping for air. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her muscles locked up, making it hard to remain standing. A soft moan broke through the silence. She glanced down at the body below her, and then at the knife in her hand.

He wasn’t dead yet. She could still call for help. Minutes went by; his shallow breaths were all she could hear. Her mind raced, Could she turn herself in? One more gasp and then he went still. Now it was definitely too late.

The nightmare was rushing back to her. Details were different–she was in an alley, the knives were different, her clothes were not the same. Yet, the horrible scene played out in her mind, the end result the same.

What had she done?

She had killed a man. It was unbelievable, impossible. She shook her head violently-maybe she was dreaming again. Her eyes would open, and she would be in her bed, its soft, caressing warmth so different from the ice-cold sting of the night air. But nothing happened. Her eyes were already open.

She felt detached from the picture in front of her. It was a movie, a play, anything but reality.

Suddenly the sound of an engine interrupted the still quiet. She froze, her body becoming alert, her mouth dry and her legs ready to move.

Should she let the car find her? It would be just. After all, she had committed the crime.

The seconds ticked by, but she had no time to think. So her brain shut down, the events too much for her to handle, and she ran, ran from the nightmare that was now her reality.

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