The Vision

"Chelsea? Chelsea, are you listening to me?" Chelsea snapped from her daydream and looked up at her history teacher, Mrs. Harold. She stared stupidly at the reflection in her teachers glasses, unable to speak. After a moment of akward silence, Chelsea spoke.

"Um...after Alexander's death, his three generals murdered his family and divided his empire." Chelsea sighed and stared down at her book. The words were a blur and she was getting a head ache. Mrs. Harold gazed at Chelsea with worried eyes, then turned back around and began writing on the chalkboard once again.

The bell rang out in the hall. All of the students jumped up from their desks and rushed out of the room. But Chelsea was slowly gathering her books and papers and stuffing them into her bag. She felt a touch on her shoulder.

"Chelsea? Are you feeling alright?" Chlesea turned and looked up into her teachers eyes. She nodded and then walked quickly walked out of the room without saying a word. She felt dizzy and every thing was was a blur as she struggled to find her locker. Suddenly, she felt herself being pushed forward. She stumbled, dropped her books and fell to her hands and knees. She looked up to see Hayle and her little "posse" walking toward the cafetereia.

"Stay out of the hall, loser." Hayle said as she strutted along. Her friends giggled. Chelsea looked up and said, "Yeah, you keep on laughing. We'll see who's the loser in the end."

A vision flooded through her mind. A broken image of the same hall she was in. The glimmer of a knife in the dull light. A red stained hand falling to the floor, lying motionless. Then, there was nothing but darkness.