*Halia's POV*
I woke with a jolt, heart pounding like I'd been running. My sheets tangled around my legs, sticking to my skin with the weight of sweat. My breath came in sharp bursts.
*The dream.*
It was still there, lingering behind my eyelids like smoke. Skin against skin. His voice like thunder. Hands that held me like I was meant to be claimed.
I didn't even know his name.
I pressed my palms to my face, trying to shake the images. But they clung to me—his touch, the way my body had responded, like it knew him before I did. Like it had been *waiting* for him.
God, it felt *so real*.
I forced myself to sit up. The sheets slid down, and that's when I saw it.
Blood.
Right there, where I'd been lying. Dark. Stark. Unmistakable.
I froze.
What—?
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, looked again. It was still there.
My hands started to shake.
*Was I on my period?* No. No, I wasn't due for another week. I knew my body. I knew how it worked. This wasn't normal.
I swallowed hard, pressing a palm to my lower stomach. It didn't hurt. But there was this strange, deep ache, like something inside me had been disturbed.
*Did I…?*
No. That's impossible. People don't lose their virginity in dreams.
But I remembered the way he held me. The way his voice had said my name like it was sacred. The heat. The way I—my body—moved with him like it wasn't the first time.
I squeezed my eyes shut. *What the hell is happening to me?*
I stood on shaking legs and peeled the sheets off my bed. My gaze stayed glued to the bloodstain as I folded them, my mind replaying every second of the dream in fragments I couldn't stop. It was like watching something that wasn't mine but lived in me anyway.
My fingers brushed between my legs on instinct. Still tender.
My breath caught.
*No, no, no…*
I stuffed the sheets into the laundry hamper like hiding the evidence could erase it. Then I stood there in the center of my room, arms wrapped tight around myself, like I could hold myself together with pressure alone.
*Who was he?*
I didn't see his face. I only remembered his hands, his scent—something primal and wild—and the way he looked at me in the dark, like he knew every part of me.
A sharp vibration broke the silence. My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I grabbed it, fingers fumbling.
**Maggie:** *Shopping, babe? I feel like spending too much and regretting nothing. You in?*
I stared at the message. Maggie. My best friend. Normal. Loud. Always ready with sarcasm and iced coffee. She didn't know anything about dreams that felt like they *branded* you. She'd probably laugh, or worse—tell me to Google it.
But maybe she was right. Maybe I *did* need to get out of the house. Maybe if I went outside, stepped into normalcy, my brain would reset.
I looked in the mirror.
My reflection stared back, pale and confused, lips parted slightly like I was still stuck somewhere between sleep and something else. My hair was a mess. My eyes—God, even they looked different. Wider. Brighter.
Was I imagining that?
I pulled on my favorite black jeans and a hoodie that still smelled like my body spray. I needed layers. I needed something to make me feel… solid.
When I opened my bedroom door, my mom's voice called from the kitchen.
"Halia? You're up early."
"Yeah," I said, forcing my voice to sound casual. "Maggie wants to drag me to the mall."
A pause.
"Alright," Mom said, softer now. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
"I will."
"Text me when you get there."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Okay."
I grabbed my bag and slipped out the door. The sunlight hit me like a slap, too bright, too clean. Everything outside was the same—birds chirping, cars humming, the breeze tugging at my hair—but *I* wasn't.
I had changed.
And I didn't know how to undo it.
I'm so glad you're feeling Halia's emotions come through—that's exactly what makes a story connect! I'll keep that intimate, immersive tone going and **slowly build the tension with Maggie's arrival and their conversation**, letting Halia's confusion deepen and Maggie's shock grow naturally.
***
The mall's automatic doors slid open with a whoosh, and a blast of cool air hit me. It was like stepping into a different world—safe, ordinary, predictable. The scent of cinnamon and popcorn mingled with perfume and cheap plastic. People laughed, jostled, browsed. But I couldn't shake the cold knot tightening in my gut.
"Hey!" Maggie waved from the food court, grinning like I owed her money.
I forced a smile and walked over. She looped an arm through mine, pulling me toward a bench.
"You look like you just saw a ghost," she teased, eyes sharp.
I shrugged. "Weird night. Weird dream."
She gave me a skeptical look. "Come on. Spill."
I hesitated, fingers digging into the fabric of my jeans. "It wasn't just a dream. It felt real. Like… too real."
Maggie's brows furrowed. "How real are we talking? Like nightmare real? Or…?"
I swallowed hard. "Like I was with someone. Someone I didn't know. And then I woke up and—"
My voice caught. I looked down at my hands.
"There was blood," I said quietly.
Maggie blinked, like she wasn't sure she'd heard right.
"Blood?" she repeated, then laughed nervously. "Halia, it was probably just your period. You're just turned eighteen last week. It happens."
I shook my head. "No. I know my body. It wasn't that. And the weird thing is—I don't even remember his face. But I remember *him*. Like he was real."
She stared at me, her mouth slightly open. "That's… new."
"I know." I felt the panic rise again, like cold water creeping up my throat. "I don't know what's happening to me."
Maggie reached over and squeezed my hand. "Hey. Maybe it's not real. Maybe it's just your brain mixing things up. You've been stressed with school and everything."
"Maybe." But the words didn't comfort me.
I forced a laugh, trying to shake the heaviness. "Thanks for dragging me out. I needed the distraction."
"Of course." Maggie grinned. "Now, come on. Let's find you something that doesn't remind you of blood and mystery men."
We walked through the mall, surrounded by shiny stores and flashing signs, but my mind was tangled in questions.
*Who was he? Why did I feel like I belonged to him? Was I really… changed?*
Maggie chattered on about shoes and sales, but I barely heard her. I kept glancing at the crowd, half-expecting to see a flash of dark eyes or a familiar scent in the air.
Then, something shifted.
A figure in the distance—a man. Tall. Shadowed under a hoodie. He turned his head slowly, and for a split second, I caught his eyes.
They were *his* eyes.
My breath hitched.
I blinked.
He was gone.
But the chill he left behind curled around my spine.