I sat up, gasping for breath, and checked my alarm clock. It was 11:59 pm, one minute until September 13. I groaned then lied against my pillow, which was now damp with sweat, tears, or both. If there’s one holiday that I absolutely loathe, it was my birthday. And to make things worse, it was my golden birthday. I turned my head to see the clock again. 12:02 am. Perfect. Two minutes of being thirteen and I already hate it.
Then the visions of my dream came back. It was way too real to ignore. The lightning, the wind, the pain and cold, it was all too real. And what was weird was that I had a feeling it had something to do with my 13th birthday. I shuddered at the thought, then buried my face into the yet damp pillow once more, and immediately fell asleep, too tired to think of anything else.