Fatal Flaws

 "Hayden!" I scream, jolting forward into a seated position in the bed. Large beads of sweat cover my forehead, dripping down. I'm drenched in perspiration. A soft pinkish glow illuminates my room as the sun rises outside. Glancing over, the clock states 5:56 a.m. An hour and four minutes until my alarms are set to go off. There's no point trying to go back to sleep. I doubt I could, even if I wanted to.

It's been so long since I've had a nightmare, it's almost foreign. While similar to the years-long visions that have plagued me, this one had a major variation. The scenario was familiar, in the same dirty, dingy alley. The repeated earth-shattering emotions flood over me the moment I see the body. But it wasn't Johnny lying there, soaked in a pool of darkness. Blood spewing out the corners of his mouth, choking while desperately gasping for air. A shiver runs along my spine, recalling the face that stared back at me. Johnny's face dissolved, replaced with Hayden's. I'm nauseous, remembering the sight of him lying lifeless, blood collecting around him.

The empty spot beside me does little to ease my worried mind. He's not here, he never came back. My phone lies dark and motionless beside me. I scramble to grab it, scrolling while holding my breath. No new texts, and only one missed call. But it's not him. Instead, it's from April. She left a voicemail which I'll check later. I can't worry about whatever drama she's calling with. I have enough on my plate right now.

I'm battling myself internaly, debating whether to call him. Deciding to check in, my fingers hesitantly dial his number. It doesn't ring, instead going straight to voicemail. My hand shakes, trying to hang up. I have to calm down. He's okay, I sigh, trying to reassure myself. Knowing him, he was out late, and instead of waking me, he went to his dorm and passed out. And must have forgotten to charge his phone. It sounds reasonable. At least I hope that's what happened.

I need to get moving and start my day. There's too much riding on today to let this affect me. Despite the sinking feeling in my chest, I drag myself out of bed. Digging around in my drawers, I find an old white tank top to throw on under my dress. With my texture issues the thought of the sweater's material rubbing against my bare skin gives me the creeps. They're so itchy and gross.

Sliding it on, I struggle slightly, maneuvering it over my shoulders and down my body. Once it's completely on, I instantly regret not trying it on first. Looking in the mirror, it's okay. A tad snug around my shoulders and across my breast. The material stretched tightly across them makes them more prominent. I don't know weather it's the material or the dress itself, but it hides my belly, making my waist appear smaller. Good thing it's cold out and I'm wearing leggings or we'd have a repeat of the last time I wore a dress. It's shorter than I assumed, I think to myself, twirling in front of the mirror.

The leggings slide easily over my thighs, only having to shimmy near the top. Glancing around, I notice Sky's makeup bag still sitting on the table. A small folded note lies beside it. My name scribbled across it in giant loopy writing. Picking it up, I open it....

"Bex, I know I'm not here anymore to do your makeup, but I figured you'd get the hang of it. Besides, every girl needs her first caboodle, fully stocked. I have plenty at home and can always buy more. Despite not being there to force you out of bed, you better still get your ass up moving, no matter what. Promise me you'll always take advantage of being young and alive. I can't wait to see what adventures are ahead of us. Until next time, which better be soon. I love you bestie, and miss you so much.

Love,

Your number-one Skylar"

My heart tugs. I miss her so much. What am I going to do without her? As usual, she's one step ahead of me since I forgot to buy makeup yesterday while in town. Running my fingers along the worn, cracked leather of the caboodle makes me ache. How can something so minor have such a powerful meaning? A nice simple gesture from one friend to another. But it cements the fact she's gone, like I needed another painful reminder.