She shoots up in her bed with a scream, taking in deep, desperate gulps of air in her attempt to breath. Her eyes dart around her room, trying to find safety in the familiar mess all around and the pink fur wallpaper, trying to assure herself that all this was just a dream, that none of this is real.
Her walls are blue, sky blue, her room neat and tidy, a study desk in the center of it, as if in spotlight, piles of books stacked up neatly on top of it.
And the tears leave her eyes, a sob and a howl escaping from her mouth, as she remembers that this is real. Those are dreams, dreams from her past- her past life.
Love- the truest feeling in the world, the greatest emotion of human heart; love- the most powerful weapon in the whole world.
When it's real, it has the power to win over storms and volcanoes and earthquakes. It can force nature to bend all its rules, to do the unthinkable.
When lovers are estranged by death, they are united by life. Magic sends them into this world again, in a different form, at a different place, with everything different around them.
The quest for uniting with love begins once again.
Her mother runs into her room, pulling her head close to her chest, and hugging her tightly. "Another nightmare?"
"Yes." She barely whispers back. For her, it is real- it is everything that ever mattered to her, it is more important than life itself. For them, these are merely nightmares, nothing else. They don't understand- none of them do.
She had tried explaining to them when she saw a black haired boy with hazel eyes in her dream and shot up in her bed crying for no reason. They laughed; they said she was just dreaming of her 'dream guy'.
She believed them; she dismissed the thoughts off as well. But the dream kept coming back, prolonging, expanding, torturing her in different ways.
And finally, when she froze in the middle of the staircase in her school, afraid to take the next step, afraid that she would fall down if she did, she understood these were too real to be not real.
She saw herself painting in her dreams. She tried drawing the images in her notebook to show everyone else what she dreamt. She failed. She wasn't a good painter anymore; she had lost that talent as she lost her life.
She had sat back down on her bed, clutching the papers close to her chest, crying in defeat. There was nothing else she could do to make them believe. They will never believe her.
"Honey, relax, your math test will be great tomorrow." Her mother whispers softly into her hair, gently rocking her, as her father stands in the doorway, watching her with concern. "You will get an A, just like last term."
She nods and pulls back, getting off the bed, splashing cold water on her face, washing the tears away, and returns to her bed, assures her mother that she will be all right, turns off the light again, and pretends to go back to sleep.
When her parents are finally convinced that she is asleep and they leave, she slowly sits back up in her bed, holding her face in her hands, ready to take the defeat.
The darkness of the room horrifies her, but it isn't just the darkness. It's everything. This isn't her room. This isn't her thing. This isn't where she belongs. This isn't who she is. This isn't Alex Russo.
"You have a math test tomorrow." She reminds herself, whispering softly, as if someone can hear her. Even after living 16 years in this house, in this life, in this body, she isn't sure, she isn't safe. This isn't her place…. "You need to rest."
She clutches her teddy bear closer to her chest, thinking of the hundred and one times when Theresa had asked her to study, to practice math, to take education more seriously. She wishes she could just run to her, hug her tightly and tell her that she is sorry. She wishes she still had magic and could turn back time, to get back to her childhood again, to live her life all over again, to study hard, to listen to her mother, to make up for every wrong thing she did, to NEVER EVER skip steps again, and hopefully not die this time. She wishes she could run to Theresa and show her every single 'A' she has earned in this lifetime. She pictures the scene in her mind, and sees her mother's happy tears and proud smile.
But she knows this will never happen. She knows she can never see Theresa again- she lives too far away. This is another country. This is another life.
Sometimes she wonders how her mother had reacted to her death, how her father had coped up with the loss of his child.
And she wonders how Justin had felt.
Justin… her lips quiver as she merely takes his name, her body shaking in utter defeat. She wonders what had happened after her death. She wonders if he went home and came running back again as soon as he heard about her death. She wonders how long he cried.
Does he still cry for her? Does he remember her? Does he miss her? Is he thinking about her at this very moment? Does he love her? Did he ever love her?
She buries her head in the pillow, shaking it violently. Why didn't she ask him? Why? Why? Why? Now, no matter what she does, it's too late- she will never know.
Her mind ponders over all her questions for a few more moments. Everything about her past life has a big question mark attached to it. She will never ever find answers to these questions… she will never ever see them again.
Sometimes she wonders how her family is doing now. She wonders where her parents are, if they are still living alone and separated, or if they married again. She wonders where Max is, if he became smart yet.
And she tries not to think about Justin's life. Emphasis on the word tries. Because as soon as she does, she sees a hundred pictures of him in his mid-thirties, sitting in a restaurant with a beautiful blond (sometimes brunette, sometimes red-head, what's the difference?)
She tells herself that he is there, that he is hers, that he is waiting.
But she knows she will probably never ever see him again, and she tries not to think about that. Again, emphasis on the word tries.
This life is new, it's different, it's difficult.
This life is uncertain- but this life has hope. She looks out of the window at the moon, wondering if Justin is looking at it at the same time as well. She binds her heart with hope and faith, and repeats her promise from her past life. Those words are like an oath to her, it's like a magic spell, it's her strength, it's everything to her- it's the reason she is living right now. "I will wait for you Justin."
Love. Longing. Uncertainty. Hope. Faith. And an unthinkable yearning to meet Justin again. That is life for Alex.
(A/N: This is a sequel to 'the world blurred', but you don't need to read that to understand this. Just know that, Alex died in that one and is reborn again. I know most of you don't believe in reincarnation, but this is fiction people, so please don't be offended. This is a theme that has not been done this way before, and I have a clear idea of what I want with this. Judging by my writing skills, I think this is my best? I actually cried while writing this. (I NEVER cry while writing)… I don't know, it got me all emotional, lol. Yes, I am back into my quality of writing. I am sick of my own bad writings. LOL. This story is VERY special to me, and I genuinely want to make it bigger than "Dollhouse." PLEASE leave me a review and tell me if you like this!)