Her toes curled deep within her covers, digging at the fabric while her back rested against the cushioned headboard. It was late, the rain pattering on the roof and the window, and all the other orphans were most likely sound asleep. She couldn't sleep. She hasn't been able to since the nightmares started. What kind of nightmares, I hear you asking.
I couldn't tell you right off the bat. It would take a great deal of effort to piece together the random images that plague her sleeping mind. I can assure you, they are most unpleasant. Especially for a ten-year-old little girl. A little girl who tried her best to lock away images, most notably, of bodies, all shapes and sizes and colors, twisted and mangled. Bruised. Broken. Bloodied. Torn apart.
Blood splattered on the walls, guts and brain matter slowly dripping onto the floor.
Charred bodies, their blacked faces stained with the jellies of their eyes, pouring from now empty sockets like tears.
They were enough to turn even the strongest of stomachs.
So, she never slept. At least, not until her small body decided it couldn't handle the stress and exhaustion she forced it to go through. Then she slept. A restless sleep that lasted not nearly long enough. At least it kept her from her dreams.
A sense of inescapable exhaustion, one that was bound to be incredibly unhealthy, was a small price to pay if it meant she could keep whatever shred of sanity she had left.
These nightmares only seemed to grow worse, ever since…
However, what kept her from falling asleep that night was no nightmare.
Across the room from her, stood a shadowed figure, its body fading and flickering in the dark, only to pulsate and appear almost tangible once more before fading once again.
It was an endless cycle.
One that the child dared not to take her eyes off.
Out of fear.
Out of panic.
Out of sorrow…
She caught the faint glimpses of a face every once in a while. A face that held an air of familiarity to it, yet as she stared, the being never once looked at her. No, she (assuming it was her) seemed to be staring at nothing, hollow eyes dancing around the room. Long black hair weightlessly floated around her, wrapping around her face, casting shadowed veils.
"M-mum…?" the girl whimpered.
That was a mistake.
Her head whipped forward, eyes finally falling onto the child. Lightning struck, flashing light in the room. Her face contorted with each flash, smooth features warping into a pained expression. Her face reddened, some areas crisp and black, flaky. Empty sockets for eyes.
Suddenly, the room went dark again, and, just as suddenly, she looked normal once more.
Her mouth moved, gapping like a fish out of water.
Don't let them know you see them…
A voice, soft, echoed in the child's head. She flinched at the sudden intrusion, yet she still dared not close her eyes.
"Wh-wha-"
Suddenly, the apparition of her mother charged forward, causing the girl to scream.
Don't let them know you see them!
The voice in her head was deafening. She scooted back, legs kicking off the blanket, but she had nowhere to go as black swarmed her vision. She waved her arms about her as if she were trying to shoo the being away. Finally, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Go away… Please go away…
Light flooded past her eyelids, and her eyes popped open. Looking up, wisps of her dark hair fell into her face. The door to her room was open, and an elderly man had his head poked inside. His fingers rested on the light switch. His brows were furrowed, eyes shining in concern.
"Is everything alright, Quinn?" he asked, but she didn't answer him. Not even when he stepped inside the room. She hadn't spoken to anyone since her arrival merely two weeks ago. She didn't notice the messy tuff of raven black hair that lingered behind the elderly man. "You can tell me."
No, instead, she looked frantically around the room. There were no signs of her mother. As if she were banished by the light. It wasn't until she noticed the bed shift did she look back at the old man.
Her body never once stopped shaking, her dainty knees drawing close to her chest. He stared into her wide eyes, her trembling lower lip.
"Miss Hayes," came a new voice, quiet. Both man and child turned back to the door. A boy, barely in his teens, with a mane of untamable raven hair slumped against the door frame. His lanky body was hidden by the over-sized white shirt and baggy jeans. He pressed his thumb against his bottom lip, nibbling on the nail as onyx eyes lingered on her.
She sniffled, wiping at her nose with the sleeve of her nightgown.
"I was on my way to the kitchen for some shortcake. I've been craving some for some time now. Would you like to come with me?"
She just stared at the boy, his tired gaze a mirror of her own. She didn't answer.
The old man sighed, shifting to stand up with a long, drawn-out sigh once it became evident that she wasn't going to respond. "Come along, L. Let's leave her be." He motioned for the boy to follow, but he stood firm, watching.
Watching until she gave the slightest of nods. The corners of his mouth quirked ever so slightly, even more so when she slid out of the bed. Her nightgown fell to her knees, brushing against her skin as she walked towards both men, tentatively glancing around the room once more.
Just in case her mother lingered just around the corner.