Celeste sighed and rubbed her face. She stared at her reflection in the small mirror on her bedside table and sighed again at how tired she looked.
Despite the exhaustion of her body, she couldn't make her mind quieten down. Thoughts were buzzing around her head with no regard for the time, the darkening of the sky outside, or the softness of her bed.
She sighed again and stood back up from her bed. There really was no point trying to sleep.
Celeste drew back the heavy curtains at her window, allowing the coolness trapped behind them to seep into the room. The growing darkness beyond the panes was turning her gentle Paris into a tangle of shadowed streets, bands of lamplight, and the whispers of a chill night breeze. It was at the same time unsettling and intriguing.
The mixture of apprehension and excitement tugged to the forefront Celeste's mind the memory of the unnatural dark that had been revealed to her behind her dressing room mirror.
She ran a hand through her hair. She finally had time to think about the night before, but she wasn't sure she wanted to dig beneath the surface and shatter the dream.
Celeste sat down behind the curtain, pulling it closed and immersing herself in darkness. She hugged her legs and rested her head against her knees, as she used to whenever screams rang through the house. Not that, her mind pleaded, I'll remember anything but that.
Turning her thoughts away from fear, she rubbed her eyes and thought back to him. Her Angel. No, not an Angel but a man; Erik. She didn't know herself why she had followed him - normal girls would never have allowed a strange man to lead them into mysterious passageways. And yet she had trusted him, which was impossible, and ridiculous... And completely justifiable when she remembered his childishly eager smile and immensely sad eyes.
By why had she trusted him? Before she had even seen him, she had felt safe whenever she was in his presence, had been unable to lie to him, and knew that she would have done anything he asked of her. It was an unwise way to act, she knew; naïve and potentially dangerous. She was being a ridiculous child, who had allowed herself to be deceived simply because she had wanted to think that her father was still looking after her.
Idiot. It was her father himself who had told her there was no such thing as angels, and yet she had believed that some mystical teacher could somehow be a divine present from him? Not believed, really: hoped.
Her father was gone, and he wasn't coming back. There was no way for him to reach or protect her, so there was no point wasting her time wishing, and making rash decisions out of longing.
So leave him. Tell the Angel you don't want him as a teacher anymore. But she couldn't. Not after everything he had done for her, after feeling happier than she had for who knows how long, after she had seen how vulnerable, how human he himself was.
It would hurt him if I left. A lot. That she knew for certain. And, no matter if she tried to deny it, it would be torture for her to leave him.
So though it was stupid, it was reckless, it was completely absurd, she would stay with him. She needed to, for her sake as well as his. A companion she already had faith in so surely was not something to give up lightly.
Celeste stood, wiping tears she hadn't noticed from the corners of her eyes. She took one last look out of the widow, at the darkness and the growing mist. She knew that before long she would have mist and shadows wrapping around her again like the devil's own embrace. And you want that, her mind whispered.
The warmth of her room enveloped Celeste the moment she stepped out from the curtains, as though she was had suddenly been drawn back into reality.
She turned back to her bed, drawing the curtains behind her. The soft rim of light cast by her bedside candle called to life echoes of other memories - older, warmer.
"Goodnight Celeste." the man with shining eyes and warm smile said softly. He stooped over the bed, tucking the bedclothes around the small figure beaming up at him.
"Goodnight Papa." Celeste whispered back. "I love you."
Her father's smile widened dotingly at her words. "I love you too."
"I love you more!" The little girl said enthusiastically.
"Impossible, ma petite." her father murmured, bending to kiss her forehead.
Celeste sighed contentedly, a happy smile warming her young face as she drifted into a gentle sleep.
Celeste smiled to herself at the recollection of her father. It was much more pleasant than the more recent memories of curling up alone in the bed, soaking the sheets with tears and wishing she could sink away and never resurface.
With an effort, Celeste cut off her spiralling thoughts and focused her mind on happy times as she slipped back into bed and blew out the candle.
Darkness closed in on her like a shroud, and she fought to keep dark thoughts from swallowing her as sleep slowly claimed her.
A/N - Thank you to the people who have favourited, followed, and reviewed - it means a lot!
