"What's wrong?" Jeremy asked her. "You are not like this; is there a problem?"
She was answered, "No, no, there's none." She shook her head yet appeared guilty.
Jeremy approached her to talk to her personally. "Then why are you being hostile towards Liam?" he asked.
"It's just, I—I'm not feeling well," she explained.
"That's it!? Oh my, you are at work! Please be professional and don't involve us in your personal matters," he sighed. "I'm sorry for the mean comment. You're the one who told me to be frank towards you as much as possible, but I know you understand why I am saying this, right?" he stated.
She nodded. "Yeah, thanks, bits friend," she said. (mispronounced "b*tch"—for this long-term friend, it means "Beautiful Individuals that Created Happiness")
The thing she wants out of that newbie is seething inside her. She went earlier to the surveillance room and talked to the guard. She was able to get the footage of yesterday's shift. There is nothing but her seated at her desk until the end of her shift.
Jeremy was right; she needs to calm down. He is just a newbie, but how? If there is an easier way to take this as it is, she will go on with her day as normal as possible.
So, instead, she avoided him while putting herself back together. This is not an emotional issue. This is a mental one.
She went home earlier this time, no overtime. Then, instead of thinking about a man who is not even her lover. She will be thinking about other concerns. If she were younger, problematizing guys who are not even her boyfriend might be an acceptable mistake, but now it's quite different because she is already in her 30s. If that person is not REALLY interested in her, why waste time on him? Right now, the clouds of the storm are gone; however, there is an obvious change in the atmosphere. There is one more thing needed to support her suspicion: a confirmation, proof that the thing that arrives with the storm stays.
There must be an increase in cases and records of death, but she hasn't heard anything yet.
'Probably not yet manifesting,' she thought.
Her phone rings; it's her mom calling. She picks it up while waiting for the signs to walk to the pedestrian.
"Yes, I'm alright; I just went straight home last time because I felt sad. My cat died that day. You know that she is my only companion." (groan out of irritation) "I was really depressed when Sailor Moon died. No... here we go again with the marrying stuff, Mom!" she said.
Her eyes were checking her shoes, checking on the lights, on the vehicles, and on the guy who followed her from her work. Their eyes locked, but not out of affection. He gazed at her with such familiarity that it was hard to ignore. There is a part of her that wants to approach him and a part of her that wants to run away, but now that she has the chance to talk to him. She is hesitating to do so. Debbie provided a perfect excuse to avoid him, and a newbie or a stranger won't bother to speculate that much.
So why on earth is he standing there staring at her like he knows her very well?
"Yes, yes, Mom. Mom, I have to go; I'll visit you tomorrow after work," she said. "Bye," and she hangs up the call.
When the sign says she can walk down the pedestrian. She hastily leaves.
A strong grip stopped her from crossing the street; he pulled her closer. "Get your hands off me!" She forcefully shakes his hands off. They are getting the attention of the people around them, so the newbie releases her hand and lets her go. When she successfully went to the other side, she turned around and looked at him. He is still staring.
Indeed, he is not an enemy; in fact, he saved her. The newbie saved her from the demon, which means there is a possibility that he is not a human as well. He can possibly answer all the questions about what on earth is happening, and yet his very aura is devouring her by standing close to her, like he is consuming her. No, she is not a horror movie character who is looking for a house, saw a haunted house, bought that haunted house, and lives there with her family.
Debbie's senses are all telling her to run away from him as well as the truth for now. She learned one thing: the more you give those things attention, the more they will distract you from reality and will slowly ruin your demeanor.
Way back when she was still young, her father always reminded her to never be so fond of the things she saw in her dreams. Debbie was crying that time; after that, she shut everything out in that exact year of her 16 years of existence. There is something haunting her. She pleaded for them to believe. No! Debbie told her parents to ask them for help; she doesn't know what to do, but no one knows how to help her.
And that evening she was dreaming in her sleep.
She was standing in a well-lit empty space without anything, and she was dazed, wearing white linen.
'Was it a mental hospital room? Maybe I'll end up being here in the future, she thought. Since most of her dreams started to come true.
When they say, 'May your dreams come true,' who said it'll be pleasing? When the things come true, it won't be something you can laugh off and take lightly, especially nightmares.
She can control her body now; everything feels light, and the room temperature is warm. It's rare to feel the temperature in your dream. Also, you cannot smell or taste anything in it, although it gives you the accurate emotions required depending on the situation it narrates.
She turns around to see a big wall of mirror. It is nothing but a darker side, and she can see her reflection in the middle, who is wearing a pretty white dress.
The control to her body was removed, and her feet started to move on their own. She walks slowly towards the reflection.
She noticed something's wrong. She is wearing a straight-cut plain linen, not a white dress. Then she saw the reflection on the other side, which appeared much younger than she. She is adorned with silver accessories and sparkling jewels.
Her hands reached for the reflection, and it did not do the same. It is not a reflection at all; the other Debbie notices it as well and looks around her dark space for something that she can use to crack the glass that separates them.
When she found nothing, she returned to the mirror and slid her skirt through the side slit that revealed a drop-leg sheath.
The older Debbie was surprised; why does a teenager have a drop leg sheath that is meant for military purposes? It is indeed a dream. When she realized that it was a dream. She wakes up.
Indeed, something is haunting her, but in the same way, somehow, something was also protecting her.