Luna Wicken

Chapter one

"Blaire, get up or you will be late for work," my mother yells at me from downstairs.

I let out a frustrated groan; I just want to sleep. For some reason, I have been exhausted for the past few weeks. When I think about it, it has been since my 18th birthday. Maybe I partied too hard and my body can not take it.

"I am up," I yell back, dragging my tired body out of bed and into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, my long black hair is out of control, as if I went ten rounds with my pillow last night. I had another strange dream last night where this lady tells me to run from the monster chasing me. I keep running as this thing with blood-red eyes chases me. I always wake up right as it gets to me. I'm always covered in sweat, and my body shakes when I wake up. I do not understand what it means.

Getting myself ready for work, I hope that today will be a slow day at the dinner. I don't want to run around waiting on people's needs. I want a nice cruisey day with maybe one or two customers, so I don't get too bored, but I'm not run off my feet either.

Coming down the stairs, as I get to the third one from the bottom, I trip over my feet, tumbling down the last few steps and landing flat on my back. I let out a groan of pain, looking up to see my dad staring down at me.

"I hoped when you turned 18, you would grow out of your clumsiness", he laughed before holding out his hand to help me.

I roll my eyes, taking his hand and letting him pull me to my feet. "sadly, I don't think I will ever grow out of that one, Dad. I am a walking accident."

We both laugh. I'm always falling over or running into things. I don't know why; I guess I was just born unlucky. I follow behind my dad into the kitchen, where my mum is standing there leaning against the bench, and my little brother is sitting at the table eating like a wild animal. I've always wondered where I fit in here. I mean, I know they are my family and that my mum gave birth to me, well at least that's what she tells me anyway, but the thing is, I look nothing like them. They all have the same dull, dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. Then there's me, jet black hair and bright blue eyes. It doesn't make sense. I've asked my mum a few times, but she always says the same thing: I look just like my great-grandmother. I've never seen a photo of this woman; I have to take her word for it. I used to think when I was little that my mum and dad were some rich criminals who got in trouble and left me on the doorstep here to keep me safe, and one day, they were going to come back and get me. I had a wild imagination as a child. The main reason I thought that was because I remember having a dream once about a woman and man kissing me on the forehead and telling me they loved me before sitting me down at the front door of my house, knocking and leaving.

"eat", my mum points to the table where toast sits on it.

"I'll eat at work", I smile at her. "I'm taking Blue to work with me so no one has to worry about him escaping and coming looking for me" Blue is my dog that, on my 16th birthday, just came wandering into the house and claimed me has his. Mum and Dad were unhappy about it, but they just went along with it because any time someone tried to make him get outside, he would try to bite them.

"Okay, do you want your father to pick you up after work?" she asks

"no, it's fine, I can walk. I don't finish till late, and I know that Dad will want to watch the footy" I look over to him, giving him a wink.

"Well, be careful and come straight home."

I roll my eyes as soon as my back is turned on her. It drives me crazy how they still treat me like a child. I mean, I'm 18. I should be able to do whatever I want, but they have never let me stay out past nine. I was never allowed to go to sleep over, and god forbid that I ever even thought about having a boyfriend. They are the true meaning of helicopter parents. I was so shocked that on my 18th birthday, they let me have a party with only five people and it had to be at home.