So now you all know who Amile is. Yay! I might as well do a lot of writing for the next three days because I'm going to be gone up north all weekend. Just telling you now since I update about everyday. I am also kind of sick right now with a fever, so that might have something to do with my writing being insane, and I have final exams all this week, which also causes my brain to go on total meltdown. But these are the trials I go through to make you all happy. That's all I need is the happiness ::cough:: reviews ::cough:: and I'm okay. So be happy my little friends, obey the feverish one!

Chapter 22: Darkness Broken

Erik had started being concerned about his daughter. Her life seemed to fade. Her eyes, once so full of life and color, had drained to a dull gray. She had paled drastically. All color seemed to have been washed from her. He didn't know if it was about Christine or was just that she was upset. But he had seen her around Christine, she was more firey and angry. Something was very wrong.

He decided to find out what was so wrong with her. She sat by the edge of the lake and gently dipped her feet in it. "Amile?" he said softly. She didn't turn her head or even acknowledge him. He sat next to her and touched her back gently. "Amile, what's wrong?" She still didn't answer. He sighed and pulled his feet up to his chest. "Is this about that question you asked me last night?" She sighed sadly. He nodded. "I said I wished I knew, but I don't."

"I do." she answered quietly.

His eyes widened. "How?" She pulled her feet back in and moved her head up, making it look as though she was looking at the ceiling. "Dreams tell a lot." He contemplated it, then nodded in agreement. "Yes, they do." She brought he her head back down. "That woman, a couple days ago, that was not my mother. My mother died when I was very young. My father is dead too. He was shot when he was running from those people." Erik sat closer to her, now absorbed in the conversation. "What people?" She too pulled her knees to her chest. "I don't know. But they killed everyone. From what I heard and saw in my dream, I am not French, I am German." He stroked her back again. "I'm so sorry Amile. I wish I could tell you everything, but I am not even your real father. I just take care of you, and I don't think I do much of a good job of it." To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around and him and put her head on his shoulder. "Don't lie to yourself." she whispered. He smiled and hugged her back.

Amile couldn't sleep that night. She tossed and turned, trying to bring herself to at least dozing. But her mind refused. The dream annoyed her. Everything confused her. It was like a scar on her. It had stopped bleeding years ago, but it never left. It was still buried in her, and the skin was not strong enough to cover it. She sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes. Fatigue was nagging at her, mocking her. In a movement of desperation and anger, she slammed her head down, expecting to hit a pillow. Instead, the top of the bed connected with the back of her neck. Before she could even scream, she fell unconcious.

The morning fell upon her. Amile yawned, the back of her neck aching. Still tired, she pulled her blankets over her head miserably. She had a massive headache she thought wouldn't leave her for about another week. Knowing it was hopeless to stop the headache, she pulled the covers off and yawned again. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and opened them, then gasped.

She could see again.