Samantha was never a conscious sleeper. Which was ironic because she always slept so peacefully, not even bothered by the ghosts of the people she killed.
She loved mornings too. Her days always started on such a great note. She had had such a beautiful dream, it left her beyond elated.
She did not want to shift from the position she had assumed on the bed, she laid on her stomach with one knee in an angle as she replayed the dream in her head over and over again.
It was a warm summer day, the sun felt soft and warm under her feet. There were flower petals everywhere, and she was adorned in a white dress that covered her feet and swept behind her as she walked down the aisle leading to where Jorge was standing next to a priest at the pedestal.
If felt like she was in a fairytale, h
