It might not look like the beasts aren’t here, but they could be. This could be on of their tricks.
I scoff at myself. I sound like a lunatic.
As I climb into my bed and pull the heavy covers over my head to block out the flashing lightning, I think about how my dreams might not be dreams after all. I mean, how many times can I see the same thing happen over and over again before I start to question reality?
The dreams feel real and they return at a strange time. They appear when I turn sixteen, an age a lot of legends dub as the coming-of-age year for a girl. And they disappear when Jacob does.
There doesn’t seem to be a clear connection and I don’t even know where to start to find one. The one thing that I know to be true is that these dreams aren’t coming from me. This isn’t my ima
