Excerpt: A New Reality

"Who the hell are you?"

Wait... I know that voice. Crap! Did I fall asleep!? I must have, because clearly I'm dreaming. Of course, none of my dreams have ever been like this. In my dreams all the characters I love from anime know me as well. I'm part of their world. I wouldn't be greated with so much hostile suspicion. So then, is this a nightmare? Well, if it is, I'm damn sure going to change it. I'll be damned if I'm going to ruin a perfectly good dream. Even though I don't want to be asleep, Restitution has a new episode on tonight. I can't miss it. I know, I know. I can just go online and watch it tomorrow if I miss it tonight, but why delay it any longer than I have to?

"Look, I don't know where you came from, but you're not supposed to be here."

Oh shit! I'm thinking too much. Let's see, I need to change this... Damn, I'd nearly forgotten just how handsome Roush was. I don't care of he's not real, he's gorgeous and he's the ideal man. I told my friends once that the guys from my anime were the ideal man because they could never break my heart. Roush was the ideal man for so many reasons beyond that. Not that I'd ever told anyone that. I'm sure that would be the last straw and my family would finally have me committed. I personally don't see what the issue is. My fantasies aren't hurting anyone, and besides... shit! I'm doing it again! I'm thinking instead of talking. Although, I don't know how in the hell I can form coherent thought with Roush glaring down at me. Even mad he was alway a sexy beast.

"What do you mean 'who am I'? You know me Roush! Where's Mizuki? Shouldn't he be coming along about now?"

The confusion shows clearly on Roush's face. It didn't matter that he always kept most of his face covered by a mask, you could read his every expression perfectly in his deep, obsidian eyes. "Who the hell is Mizuki?"

Ok, this isn't funny. The dream should be changing. I've never had any trouble affecting my dreams before. Maybe I'm not quite completely asleep, and that's why I don't have my usual control. Ok, now what? Maybe if I walk out of this one and concentrate hard enough I'll either be able to wake myself up, which is what I should probably do, or maybe I can start another dream where I have more control. Ok, I just have to concentrate. Breathe deeply. In. Out. In. Out. Picture everything fading away. Blackness moving in, wiping the slate clean. A fresh start.

Pain, sharp and sudden snatches me from my concentration. Crying out in surprise, I open my eyes and stare up at Roush in shock. Glancing down I see why my arm was hurting, he was holding me tightly, keeping me from walking away, out of this damn dream I can't seem to control. But something is really not right about this. I've never felt pain in my dreams before. This was too real, way too real. It was as if I'd stepped through my dream into another reality, and that reality was one that I have no real knowledge of, and that certainly had no knowledge of me. Glancing down at my clothes, then looking back at Roush and his usual attire, I realized just how strange I must seem. Things could get really bad, really quickly if I wasn't careful. If this was a dream, it was a kind I'd never had exeprience with before. I'd probably better tread very carefully from now on.

"Roush, you're hurting me. Please let go."

I can see the scowl in Roush's eyes that his mask hid, but I knew that he couldn't refuse my request, he was too gentle for all his brooding darkness. His grip loosens, but he doesn't let me go. Well, it was a step in the right direction anyway. "Tell me who you are and what you're doing here. Don't make me ask again."

"I'm Kirsten. And to be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Or how I got here for that matter."

"Kirsten. Do you come from one of the lands nearby?"

"No, I'm not from anywhere around here. My home is much farther away than you could ever imagine."

That's a laugh. This is really weird. When Roush finally releases my arm, I automaticly rub at the sore spot with my other hand. Pushing the short sleeve up slightly, I glance down to see the dark circle of bruises forming where he'd gripped me so tightly. I'd always bruised easy, it was one of the many annoying traits I got from my mother. I hated being so damn delicate when I was so very tough on the inside. Of course, when I was a kid that always made me try that much harder to seem tougher than the other kids. Over compensating and all that. Wait... bruise? How the hell did I get a bruise in a dream?

"Shit! This is real, isn't it?"