Cordelia awoke from another night of restless sleep. She couldn't even call it a night, in fact it was still dark. She fumbled around on the bedside table and checked the clock on her phone.
4:42 A.M.
She swore silently to herself. It was obvious to the Supreme that there was no point trying to go back to what she now knew as a version of sleep. It mostly involved jerking awake from half baked dreams she could never quite remember, and roughly every 20 minutes. Although she could never recall the events of her dreams, they always left her feeling what she could only describe as hollow. Dead. Where acid burns and scratches and scars had once resided on her face was now permanently taken over by dark circles. Not exactly the glowing health and vitality a Supreme was supposed to have. That worried Cordelia a considerable amount, but if she dwelled upon that nagging thought she only became more stressed. She somehow managed to subjugate it, keep it permanently out of mind.
Myrtle always imparted such abstract wisdom on Cordelia when she was younger, but one of her more concrete musings came to mind: If you can't sleep, then for God's sake at least do something productive with those stolen hours.
She disentangled the mess of sheets and blankets that wrapped her into a cocoon when she thrashed during frequent nightmares. Quite often she found them to be soaked through with sweat, even if it wasn't particularly warm in her room. Yet another effect of the ghastly nightmares. As she passed a full length mirror, she froze. Cordelia looked like a ghost of her former self- she was gaunt and emaciated. Her clothes no longer fit right, they all hung off of her. She practically swam in her pants, causing her to purchase several belts.
She had to tear herself away from the shell of a woman in the mirror before making her way downstairs. The longer she looked, the more she could feel the panic and anxiety rattling around in the box she had shut them away in, off in the back of her mind.
The house was still in the darkness.