I can't say where I am, for it is unfamiliar to me. My dreams are never this clear, this focused. It's obvious that I am looking for someone; I'm calling their name. James, where is my James? In the dream, I am running down a hallway in a school I've had never seen in my life. The walls are dark, the air is damp, and small torch laps hang on the wall. I turn the corner and come to a sudden halt. There is James, I think, relieved. Somewhere, sub-consciously, I tell myself I have no clue who this person is. But my vision tells me different.
"James!" I yell, catching his attention.
"Don't come closer," the boy says in a gruff voice. "Please." I start to say something, but he slowly turns his head towards me. His bronze hair is tousled, and his gorgeous green eyes are wild, but still cautious. From the corners of his mouth drips - wait, blood? "I'm sorry," says James, then he lunges for my throat.