This is going to seem either really weird or really funny. Anyways, enjoy! :)

Story Title: At Least We Know That If Die…


I am a quiet girl, who acts polite, but is really passionate at heart. I indirectly followed my mother's footsteps, and ran away from those who caused me oppression. But in reality, I ran away from people who were trying to help me. Accompanied by close friends, we left our homes, and unknowingly put ourselves in danger.

Chapter 3: A Message In Plain Sight

My head aches. I see nothing but darkness. I run. Where am I going? I don't even know. Suddenly, it's harder to breathe. My movements are slowing. It's harder to run. I can't move my feet anymore. I feel like I'm sinking. I'm drowning. I can't move. Now, I'm falling. What's with place? The fall seems endless. I felt like I wanted to plummet to the ground already. I see people. They're saying something, but their words fell on deaf ears. I'm numb. Hands. Hands go up in the air, like there waiting or reaching for something. Did they catch me? I don't know that either. I didn't notice anything. I felt little drops of water fall on my face. But only barely. I think its rain. I don't know anything. But the only thing I knew, somehow, I was safe.

I sat up quickly in my bed, but my eyes were still closed. My breath was deep, slow, and calming. But my heart was beating fast, as if it were panicking.

"Crazy…" I muttered, shaking my head. I got up and did my morning routine. After breakfast, I said bye to my aunt and walked to school.

As I walked on the sidewalk, I passed by the local auto shop. I sighed, wishing the mechanics sold ref boards at their shop. But they don't, and that sucks.

I see my school in the distance. 'Time for school' I thought, hoping things would be good today.

*~~~~~~After School~~~~~~*

I walked home, tired from school. I had to do homework. I would do it at the hideout, but Joseph said I wasn't allowed back unless I had a legit plan to escape. So, I have to do that too. Knowing them, they're probably working on their own plans. Joseph would have some good or great plans, but Rex… He would make a great leader, but not a good planner at all. If we used his plans, there will be a 100% chance that we'll get caught or killed.

Shaking my head gently, I finally reached my house and started on homework.

I was taking a cat-nap. Actually, it's more like trying to take one. After I finished my homework for once, I decided to take a 30-minute (2-hour) break before I start thinking of some escape plans. So, I thought I'd go to sleep. But every time I closed my eyes, events from last night's dream kept recurring in my mind. It was freaking annoying at first, now it's just freaking me the hell out.

I exhaled so I could calm myself down. That had to be a dream. It's too crazy and confusing to be real.

'But wasn't it more of a nightmare than a dream?' a distant voice said in my head.

Great, my conscience. My insane voice of "common sense" wants to have an argument with my mind, which is even more insane. Well, I can't say argument. Either it's going to annoy me, or give me a cryptic message about something. I'm leaning on the first choice though.

'Okay, it was a nightmare. You're right, now leave.' I thought.

'You're missing the point…' it lightly chided.

'What point am I missing? It's not that big of a deal.'

'Recall the events in the dream. Weren't they unusual?'

'Yeah, so what? Almost all bad dreams are like that.'

'But weren't they also familiar as well?'

'I don't get what you're trying to say.'

I heard the voice sigh, probably because of my thick-headedness.

'Your dreams are successions of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. Dreams have been seen as a connection to the unconscious.'

"What does that have to do with anything!"

'The events in dreams are generally outside the control of the dreamer, with the exception of lucid dreaming, where the dreamer is self-aware.'


'Alright, here's something simple for you. What emotions did you feel when you had your dream?'

"Well..." I trailed off.

'Did you ever think that your dream was connected to reality itself?'


'Didn't think so.'

"…I still don't get it though."

'You're preparing to leave this city, right? Well, despite this, your mind isn't ready to leave."


"Your mind is thinking of the people you've communicated with over the years. All of the memories you've had here. If you just left, you would be distracted because you would be focus on the things you did here. Soon enough, you'll want to go home."

"You're saying that I'm not gonna be able to leave, because my mind doesn't want to leave?"

"That's part of the reason you can't leave."

"Then what the hell's the entire reason! I need a full explanation here!"

"Fine. You know the whole thing about the mind, heart, and body, right?"

"Yeah, but isn't it 'mind, body, and soul'?"

"The heart's part of it, too."

"But no one cares about that part, 'cause that's pretty obvious."

"Well they should care."

"But they don't."

"Who's the smartest out of the both of us?"

"… Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Look, damn it! I'm smarter than you! Why? 'Cause I say so, therefore I am!"


"So, shut your mouth and keep it that way unless I permit you to do so, or so help me-"

"Alright, fine! Just please, tell me your point."

"Your mind, body, heart, and soul aren't in synch."


"Shut. The hell. Up. Anyways, your heart is scared that you've come to such a decision to leave, your mind just want to have freedom, the body is burdened, but your soul really is torn between this."


"... I permit you to speak?"

"Thank you. I see where you're trying to go, but..."

"I really can't give any more hints, even though they were completely obvious."


"You'll have to do the rest on your own. Bye!"

"Hold up!" Too late. It's gone.

Damn it to hell! What the flipping hell was that all about?

I look down to see that while I was mentally occupied, my body kinda took over. In my hands were my note book and a pencil. I opened it up, and wrote a poem on a blank sheet. After writing the poem, I turned the page to write something else. Instead of seeing another blank sheet of paper, I saw numbers. Lots of them. Flipping the pages, I noticed I had filled 6 pages of the notebook with numbers. I don't remember doing this. I must've done this when I was talking to my conscience. Then I saw that at the top of each page was the same title, which was 'Every 4 Numbers'. What does that mean?

Okay, that's it. I've seen many weird things in my short life, but this goes in my top five. It's time for a visit to Joey's house.

Hey guys! Sorry it took so long. I had to have my friends proofread this before I updated. Tell me what you think, ok?