Hey everyone! I've finally decided that it's time to get to work on a fan-fiction I started a few months ago. I remember really being diligent on updating it, but then life got in the way. But, I am here today to show that I am going to continue with it. If you haven't read any of the previous chapters, link so you can start from the beginning, and catch up. I hope you like this chapter.
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The sky was dark, and a light rain patted against the windows of Bloom's apartment. But, she didn't care. Bloom was searching through drawers at the moment, looking intently for several items. She sighed, irritated, before grinning as she stumbled upon them. She delicately placed an old book on her table, alongside a withered manila-colored folder. But in her hands, was a VCR tape, with the date "3-21-78" written on the side.

She walked over to her TV and placed the VCR inside, watching as it light up unto a screen that read, "Patient No. 202-042: Bloom Peters: D.O.B: 12-10-72: Study No: 15: Date: 3-21-78." The image that shifted to show a camera-view of Bloom as a little girl, sleeping in a bed. Bloom frowned, and fast-forwarded through most of the content, suddenly stopping when something caught her eye. She saw her hand twitch, and then suddenly, she was sitting up and screaming her head off; her younger self clawing at the walls trying to escape from some unknown terror.

Bloom was taken back and paused the video, her eyes lingering on the frozen image of her child-self utterly terrified. She couldn't imagine what could possibly make her so scared...

Riiing! The phone suddenly droned, causing Bloom to jump from surprise; she running over and picking it up. "Hello?" She asked, her friend Roxy being on the other line. "Hey Bloom! How's it going?" Bloom sighed and began flipping through books on psychology that lay scattered across her desk. "Lousy. I'm still on chapter four of Crowley, and I can't remember half the other sources in my bibliography." Roxy sighed. "Well look on the bright side; if you flunk it's only another twelve months of living hell and another twenty grand. But it could be worse."

"How?"

Roxy chuckled on the other end of the line. "I'm not sure exactly." Bloom sighed, and closed the book she was flipping through, frowning. "Hey Roxy, could you call me later? Make sure that I'm still awake?" She could hear her friend chuckle softly. "Yeah sure. Bye." Bloom nodded and hung up the phone, soon glancing at her notes on the table, before looking back at the television screen and the old book laying on her coffee table. She groaned at her curiosity and walked over, sitting on the ground as she began looking through it.

The book was filled with creepy images of creatures that stalked and watched their prey...people. Words like "necromancer" and "incubus" stained the pages, as Bloom's eyes scanned the strange text and pictures. After some time of reading, she could feel her lids grow heavy and she yawned, growing tired. She sighed, placing a bookmark inside, to not forget her place, before cuddling up on a pillow and falling asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The locker-room was humid and damp, just as you would expect it to be if it were near a pool. Layla took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of chlorine. She walked to a locker and opened it up, she then changing into her bathing suit; tossing her other clothes inside it. She grabs her pair of goggles, placing them around her neck as she headed to the shower.

The room was empty, and a shill went down her spine. She quickly ran to a shower head, turning on the water and switching it to "HOT". She dipped her head under it, allowing the streams of water to flow through her thick, curly hair. As she massaged her scalp, focused on her hair, she didn't notice that a fresh-looking wound on her ankle was oozing blood.

When she was finished, she walked out and into the pool-room. She noticed that another person--a man--is swimming in the pool, before jumping in. She begins working on her laps, kicking and working her muscles. When she reached the opposite end, she noticed that the fellow swimmer had gotten out; leaving Layla a lone.

She simply shrugged this off and continued swimming, not really caring whether she swam a lone or not. When she had reached the middle of the pool, she realized that the lights had begun to flicker. Layla gasped, and looked up, watching as each lamp began shutting off one by one. Soon, she was in complete darkness.

"Can somebody turn the lights back on, please?" She shouted, earning no response. "Hello?" This time, something did answer back. It wasn't a voice, or even something of human nature. All that came to her ears were clicks and snarls, along with soft pit-pats of feet, or even claws against the tiled floors.

Her head whirled around and her eyes tried adjusting to the low light as she tried to make out what was causing the sounds. As she tried finding the source, she heard something submerge in the water. She whirled around to see an amorphous blob heading towards her. Fear gripped her and she gasped, swimming rapidly towards the end of the pool. She made it and jumped out, rushing towards the door. She jiggled the handle and found out that it was locked. "Open the door!" She shouted, slamming against the front. "Please somebody help me!"

Layla continued to hear the cackling and snapping, her body shivering from the cold and fear. She had to get out of there. She looked around and noticed that there was another door, she running to it. She tried to get out, but it was locked as well. She groaned, angry and began slamming and kicking the door, it eventually giving way and opening for her--she rushing in and locking it behind her.

She gasped, relieved that she had escaped whatever was out there. She was about to grab her stuff and head out before something stopped her dead in her tracks. In front of her, two lockers slowly began opening, no one being in the room to do so. Her heart began to race, as her mind tried to find a rational explanation.

Grr.... The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she realized that something was standing right behind her. She whirled around to face her attacker and let out a blood curdling scream--the creature snarling at her, before taking her down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bloom suddenly awoke in a cold sweat. Her heart was racing, and she had a feeling that she had had another night terror. She let out a shaky breath, before realizing that it was now morning. "Oh no..." She gasped, suddenly remembering that her defense was today. She hoped that she wouldn't be late, and checked her watch to make sure. "Oh no, dammit!" She shouted, quickly getting up and grabbing her things, getting ready as fast as she could before heading out on her bike to school.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Moore’s Theory of Discordance, postulates that subjects, when presented with evidence hostile to their worldview, experience dissociative discordance, of fight-or-flight reflexivity. And discordance here is defined a--as um...delusions of--of reality stemming from childhood trauma and uh...a-as a..." Bloom stuttered, glancing down at her notes. "Heightened state of anxiety. Yes. Sorry. By increasing the number of familiar external stimuli, individuals will--" She swallowed, her nervousness obviously getting the better of her. "Well, individuals will try…" She sighed, and began flipping through more of her notes. "I-Individuals experiencing discordance will…" She looked up at the professors she was presenting in front of and went silent, all her knowledge on the psyche of anxious behaviors leaving her at that moment. "Would you please excuse me?" She asked, one of the teachers nodding yes, Bloom quickly heading out; resting against the wall as she hung her head from the embarrassment and failure.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When she had arrived home, she quickly made herself a bath. She was stressed at how badly that all went, and hoped that relaxing in some bubbles and warm water would help her out. She had nearly got settled in when the phone rang. She didn't feel like getting up, so she just let the machine pick it up.

"Hey it's Bloom. Leave a message after the beep!" There was the usual long, monotone ring afterwards, before Sky's voice could be heard. "Bloom come on, pick up, I know you’re there. Look, I’m sorry about the other night. So consider this the official apology. Besides, I want to hear how your defense went. I bet you knocked ‘em dead, but I need specifics. So pick up the phone...Alright, I can take a hint. I’m gonna harass you until you call me back." Silence soon filled the room as the phone was hung up, Bloom sighing. Could she forgive Sky? The last few days had been rather stressful, so maybe seeing him could help--

Riiing! The phone droned on again, Bloom making up her mind and getting out of the tub. She wrapped a robe around herself as she made her way to the phone, picking it up eagerly. "Sky?" There's not an immediate response, which makes her slightly wary. "Hello. Bloom...this is Musa." Her horse voice whispers on the other line. "Oh, hi." Bloom says, not really sure how to respond to the random call. "I need to talk to you. Come to our apartment as soon as you can. It's urgent."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bloom made her way through the dingy streets of New York, as she searched for Musa's apartment. When she finally came across it, she pressed the buzzer on the front door. "Hello?" Musa's voice snaps. "Hi, it's Bloom." There was a moment of silence before she responded, "Yeah, I'm on eight." Bloom nodded and entered the building, heading to the lift and pressing the button for the eighth floor. As the elevator lifted up, she could see what their room looked like, she soon exiting to get a better look around.

The walls were pitch black, and strange splatters and patterns coated the area. Light streamed through various windows throughout the room and multiple fans blew furiously in their respected corners. She couldn't see Musa anywhere, though. "Hello? Musa?" She calls out, walking near the back. She stops when she finds a canvas painted all black, intrigued by strange sweeps and lines that had been etched into it.

"Depressing, isn't it?" Someone drawls, catching Bloom off guard. She moved closer to find Musa sitting at a desk, while Flora leaned against a wall. Musa turned to Bloom and suddenly got up, making her way towards her. "Look, I'm sorry that I called you, okay? I just figured that you'd be the only one to understand." She snapped, Bloom frowning. "Understand what?" Musa fidgeted. "I mean, you see it, right?" She hissed, pointing at the black canvas. Bloom looked unsure of herself, and bit her lip. "I don't know what I see."

"But you can feel it. I mean--you can definitely feel that something bad is happening, right?" Flora suddenly snaps, Bloom nodding her head slowly. "Yes." Musa nods. "So you do understand..." She then is silent for a moment, Flora soon mumbling, "Layla is missing..." Bloom's eyes widened at the statement; it was so random and absurd. "Missing? What do you mean missing?"

"She didn't come home last night. And the rec center called me this morning, and they said that they found a bag with all of her stuff in it." Bloom frowned. "Flora slow down...maybe she just forgot her stuff in her locker?" Musa snorted. "And what, left the building in her bathing suit?"

"Did you call the police?" Flora nodded her head. "Yeah, but they're not going to find anything." Bloom raised an eyebrow, confused. "What?" She couldn't understand why the two of them were acting so strange.

Musa suddenly turned back to her desk, sitting on a chair as she pulled a book to their attention. "I've been studying Stella's diary ever since we found it. I mean, I-I can’t seem to do much of anything else. It’s like--" Her voice trailed off, her eyes wide with excitement and anxiousness. "Musa..." Bloom said, her voice sympathetic. "No, no wait, just listen, okay? Now, I can’t make sense of all of it but…I was taken to their world when I was five and marked, but it faded. They only mark kids who have night terrors." She read aloud, flipping through several more pages before continuing. "Last week, the mark re-appeared. It’s means they’re coming for me." She flipped through several more pages, before glancing back up at Bloom. "Just listen to her last entry, I can’t write much longer. The mark on my hand keeps getting worse. I can’t stand it. I pulled out this thing they planted in me--"

Bloom had had enough of this nonsense. Stella had been crazy those last few months. How could these two, intelligent girls just sit here and believe this nonsense? "Musa, stop. Stella was unstable, we know that." Musa nodded her head 'no'. "No!" She snapped. Bloom sighed, slightly irritated. "This is ridiculous She's had problems since she was a kid." Flora looked up at Bloom, an unrecognizable emotion in her eyes. "We all did." She definitely was right about that, and that shut Bloom up.

"Now, don't you think it’s possible that something that scared us as kids, has come back to collect us?" Musa asked, Bloom becoming slightly fearful at the idea. "What are you saying?" Musa let out a shaky breath and got up, looking Bloom in the eyes. "I never saw Stella's mark, but I did see Layla's--and even Flora's--and it looked a lot like this." She snapped, pulling down her shirt to reveal a circular, irritated, fresh-looking wound that was slowly oozing out blood...