At 2:00 AM Madoka woke, sweating through her thin pink nightgown, wide eyes soaking up the red glare of alarm clock digits. Heart pumping deeply through her body's thick exhaustion, she ripped stubborn breaths though her throat and wondered what had shocked her from yet another nightmare that she couldn't understand. As she scanned the room and found no shining pink eyes watching her, a calm crept into her panting breaths and soon reduced them to the deep sighs of a sleeper.
The swish of rushing blood in her head quieted to the sound of a dripping sink, and in the near silence Madoka heard the click of heels through her bedroom window and wispy white curtains, and a single tick.
Her throat tightened as a soft sense of emptiness trailed behind the cold sounds like waves of a silver veil; something was gone.
