39Prologue
Ah, crap. What time is it? 3:47. Why, the heck, am I waking up at 3crippen:47? Why!? And, you know, another thing, that stupid light is GETTING ON MY NERVES. You know, that really, really, bright one, behind my blinds? Wait, what IS that light behind my blinds?
Must. Get. Out. Of. Bed.
Must. Walk. To. Window.
Must. Open. Curtain.
WHY IS IT SO CRIPPEN BRIGHT OUTSIDE AT 3:47 AM?! Hmmmm?
Wait….outside-bright-sun-3:47…..so not 3:47 am. So, what does it equal? Hmmm….wait, wait, I think, that I might, know…wait….Oh my God… oh my god. Holy crap, holy crap. Damn! Think I know what this equals, and I think, I think that it equals 3:47 pm.
Must. Look. At. Clock… Oh. Damn. Yep. 3:47 pm alright. Except now it's 3:49 pm. Okay, how, the crap, did I wake up, at 3:47 pm. I don't understand it. I really, really don't. At all. In the slightest. But, that's enough rambling. My crippen orientation is in forty-five minutes. Nice one. Dad is so going to KILL me. I'll be dead before we even get into orientation. Dead. But, maybe, there is the slightest chance, that I can escape death, and come out simply bruised. Now, what do I need to do? I begin to count on my fingers.
-Eat
-Get dressed
-Take a shower
-Put on eye-shadow and lip gloss
-Get my shoulder-strap bag packed. I think that I might need to bring something.
Now the question is which one do I do first? Enie, menie, minie, mo. Put on makeup. I REFUSE TO PUT ON MAKE-UP BEFORE I HAVE TAKEN A CRIPPEN SHOWER.
Ahem. So, I guess, logically it makes sense to take the shower first.
Change of clothes, change of clothes…AHA. There we go- blue jeans and a red tank top- Now into my bathroom I go! Hot water, hot water. Out of clothes and into the bathtub, and the nice watery goodness. And, yes, I did just say 'watery goodness'. Wow, Kayleen, wow. I rub my Dove shampoo into a lather on my head and quickly rinse it out. To condition, or not to condition? That is the question. Naw, I'm too lazy. Okay, turn off the water, but what is that I hear? The rest of my life I'm sure.
"Hello?"
Oh, yeah. Definitely the rest of my life. Ya know why? Because that sure ain't my dad, that's why. So who, the Hell, is he?! And as I turn off the water and reach for the towel that's right by my bathtub, I ask him exactly that.
"Who the Hell are you? And why the Hell are you in my house?!" Hey, I shrieked that last part. Maybe, it'll make him leave….or, maybe not.
"Well, you know, I could ask the same to you?" Wait, what? This is my shower in the house that I live in. WHAT THE HECK?! As I step out of the shower, prepared to give this moron a piece of my mind, my jaw drops. This guy is hot. Not to mention the fact that he's like this wicked awesome drummer and the same age as me. It's not like his band is really popular or anything, but I saw them at this gig in Washington earlier in the summer. So, ummmm, again, why is he in MY BATHROOM? Small world, eh? You see a guy in a club, and then he's standing in your bathroom.
After I've done a pretty good job of making a fool of myself by having my jaw hang open for about ten seconds straight while I'm dripping wet in a knee-length towel, I see that he's raising his eyebrows at me. Like he's expecting ime/i to explain. Yeah, right, pretty boy. I don't icare/i if you have really nice dark, and long, hair. With some bangs hanging in your really sexy green eyes. I still refuse to explain why I'm in MY BATHROOM. So, I raise an eyebrow back up at him. He rolls his eyes and throws your hands up in the air. Wtf?
"So, are you going to explain why you're taking a shower in John Montrog's bathroom?"
Who?
"Dude, I'm taking a shower in my own shower. I don't know who the Hell this Montrog guy is, but my father has owned this house for the last eight years. And, you're the one standing in MY BATHROOM while I was TAKING A SHOWER. Perv." Okay, now he's squinting at me. I'm uncomfortable. I'm in a towel, in front of a hot guy, who looks pissed and is telling me that I don't live in my house.
"The last person who lived here, before Montrog, moved away three years ago his-"
"No, he-" He shushes me. Ass.
"Don't interrupt, I'm trying to figure out what's going on," I sigh, it's really not that hard. I'm in my bathroom with a bperv/b, "So, anyway, the man's name was Carter." I gasp. "You recognize it?" Yes I recognize it!
"That's my last name."
He looks at me very hard. This is getting weird, "What did you say your first name was?"
"I didn't, and I'm not going to." Okay, really creeped out now.
"You're Kayleen Carter, aren't you?" My eyes widen. How, how did he know? I nod, slowly but surely.
"You went missing three years ago. You're currently presumed dead." Oh. My. God. No. Nononononononononono. I went into my shower ten minutes ago. Not three years.
"What year do you think it is?" That's easy. Easy. Really, really easy.
"2004. August."
His face filled with pity. Oh god, not pity, anything, anything, but pity.
"You're right," Oh, thank god, some stupid joke, "It is August. But, it isn't 2004, it's 2007."
Nice one Kayleen, you've landed yourself into a science fiction story.
Okay, that's the beginning. I hope you liked it! Please give me a reveiw...Pwease?
Sorry if any of the formatting is wierd. I sometimes use symbols in my writing that not all fiction sites use. I'm a first timer on Fictionpress, so I'm still getting used to it.
Thanks bye!