Chapter 2

Weeks after the accident, I began seeing repeating numbers everywhere. It was enough to catch my attention and make me restless.

Everywhere I looked I saw repeating numbers, they were always 1111, 222, 111, 333 and so on, that I began to think I was haunted by them.

I thought I was going delusional; how can I see repeating numbers all over the place? It was all in my mind, I tried to convince myself, but what are the chances that every time I looked at my watch it's 11:11 or I'd wake up in the middle of the night just to catch the clock flashing 11:11 at me?

I'd see it in people's car tags, on papers, on tv...like I mentioned before, everywhere.

It was a quiet day when suddenly 1111 came to my view in three different places. My watch, the board, and the date written in my history book.

It was enough to send me into frantic panic, yanking myself out of my seat during the middle of class as I ran to the bathroom. My heart hammered like a tornado to my chest. What the heck was going on?

I gave myself a few seconds to a minute to calm down, and once I gathered my mind up together again, I walked out of the bathroom, going back to my desk to find my teacher and other kids staring at me out of confusion.

I ran out of the classroom frantic for no reason, and it bewildered them. Who does that?

"Is everything alright, Jade?" My teacher asked, he looked at me with concern, perhaps ready to send me to the clinic.

"I'm alright, Mr. Dawson. I'm sorry for just walking out of the classroom like that."

"It's alright." He said. "As long as you're okay."

I swallowed a lump on my throat and pressed my lips together carefully lowering myself back to my chair. That's when I heard someone said something for the entire class to hear. Something rude, something meant to make fun of me.

A chime laughter erupted. It seemed everyone heard it but me. I was too distraught, too distracted that I completely missed what was so intended to mentally harm me.

"Alright, James! That's enough,"Mr. Dawson hissed. "That's a detention after school for you!"

James began to protest but Mr. Dawson cut him off shooting his arm to the door. "I will not tolerate that kind of behavior in my classroom, go!"

James slammed his fists on his desk hard enough to make a few of us flinch. He was always a big guy, you know. Naturally big, bigger than most of the high school kids our age that made him an ideal candidate for the football team. He was one of those intimidating guys with bad temper. Someone you don't want to be associated with.

He gathered his things shoving books and notebooks in his backpack as he yanked himself up and kicked his chair.

For someone so big, he can throw a massive tantrum.

He glared at Mr. Dawson on his way out which Mr. Dawson held unafraid. For a moment, I thought James was going to flip him off or tell him to fuck off, which probably would have earned him at least a day of suspension.

Something a football athlete couldn't afford.

The tension in the classroom eased once he walked out the door, and the class resumed as if nothing ever happened.