AN: Trigger warning for this chapter in particular.

Reesa had never understood how, in the stories her mother told her, dreaming could be so easily confused for reality, or reveal a person's innermost thoughts. She now was reaching the conclusion that, really, lucid dreams were not that strange in the world she lived in. She only wished that she could have remembered the days where she, Ana, and Caro stole away in the night as young teenagers, giggling over wine bottles. Or the days when Ana would talk her ear off about a new science topic her father had introduced to her, the excitement in her eyes shining bright. Maybe even the days when she had been a child, crawling into her mother's arms when she had nightmares, seeking comfort.

No, instead she remembered the times of open windows and shattered glass. But that's not a very helpful description, is it? No, what she remembered was much more detailed.

She still had nightmares about the night she first tried to kill herself.

It was three years ago, when she was seventeen. No one had really noticed anything was wrong, and, if she was being honest with herself, no wonder they didn't. She had kept up the smiles, and her appearance was as normal as ever. She didn't suddenly lose weight, her skin didn't suddenly look lifeless, and she continued dressing in her vibrant attire, smile included. She looked fine. Only in her head was the storm that wracked and spiraled through her thoughts, until even that stopped. She was just… Numb.

Nothing had really pushed her over the edge; there was no sudden, final blow. It was more like something in her hollowing heart finally gave in, caving in on itself. She had sat in the quiet, vast household, alone, and pondered things. She knew she had friends. Family. But it didn't matter at the time. They would get along fine without her, right…? It almost fogged her thoughts, the faint need to disappear. She didn't want to hurt anyone, but… It really wouldn't hurt them, right…?

It wasn't very hard as she crawled out of bed, bare feet growing cold on the floor, and made her way to the kitchen area. It wasn't hard as she slowly pulled the kitchen knife out of its sheath, slowly so as to avoid sound. It wasn't hard to place the freezing metal tip against her skin. It was hard to cut it, though. She cut deep and slow at first, but it hurt. Badly. Blood began to pour through the broken skin. She had to finish this. The cuts became more jagged. Uneven. She screamed as the knife penetrated her skin for the fifth time, pulling the blade carelessly through her wrist, just aiming to cut as much as she could. Tears were going down her face now. She didn't collapse, though. She hardly ever did. She was strong willed.

She registered footsteps hurrying down the stairs through her strangled, angry gasps and choked sobs. She wouldn't pass out. She held onto her strength, the will to not be in this world anymore, the will to just die already. All the phrases she told herself for forever, putting herself down, accumulated in her head spilled out again. She didn't collapse as rough hands fought for the knife in her grip. All of the emptiness in her heart was filled with a hollow flame that now wanted to consume her from the inside out. She didn't collapse as the knife was finally wrestled from her stiff fingers. She didn't collapse as she continued crying, clawing at the open, weeping wounds with her free right hand. She didn't collapse as she fought against the arms that now entrapped her, or as another pair of arms hurriedly pressed cloths to the mangled forearm. She didn't collapse as she heard the kitchen filling up. Finally she heard her parents' voices as they entered the room. She could've sworn she heard a younger girl's strangled cries.

She didn't collapse, though. In her distraught, blood-lost state, she still had enough left to reason that it was over, just not in the sense she wanted. Everyone would know by daybreak. Hell, everyone might already know.

She collapsed as a strong scented chemical flooded her breathing, making her eyes roll into her head as her mind was hit with a wave of the drug, leaving no room for a fight. It smelled sickly sweet, a mix of medicine and overbearing, rotten fruit.

The dream morphed easily to the next scene. The attempt she had made on her life had occurred six months ago. She was nearing her eighteenth birthday now. She always realized it was a dream at this point, but she could never do anything to stop the turn of events in the flashback.

She was standing where she had stood that evening, the cool of the night making goose bumps appear on her bare calves. A shawl was wrapped loosely around her arms; it hid the scars. She moved her bare feet absentmindedly, toeing where the edge of the tile met the beginning of the wall, not caring about the cold.

The déjà vu hit her like a sudden, cold chill, moving up her neck and making her hair stand on end. She was on autopilot, doing what her brain remembered from that day; when she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching her, she turned around, just like she had. When she saw the faint outline of a shadow coming up the stairs, she wasn't scared, just like she hadn't been that day. It was probably one of the many people who had recently been assigned to help her with the slightest things, and, though unspoken, clearly to keep an eye on her behaviors. One of the positives to that was when a close friend and, coincidentally, servant of hers was left alone with her for hours on end, no one questioned it. Even when the two of them disappeared into the nearby fields for hours on end, ("I just need some fresh air.") her guardians didn't bat an eye. Her name had been Nikki, and she was stunningly beautiful.

Her family had immigrated to the country from one of the coastal areas, somewhere they used to plan about returning to one day, escaping under the cover of the night. She had skin nearly as dark as Reesa's from all the time she had spent in the sun as a child, but it was light enough to maintain exotic looking freckles scattered across her arms and face. Her eyes were a caramel colored hazel, flecks of yellow touching the dark rims. She would laugh freely with Reesa, and when she held her hand, she didn't flinch at the scars on the highly born girl's forearm. Her long dark hair was always smooth, and she smelled of the flowers that grew on the grounds' edges. They had… known each other, as they would say, before the past six months, and Nikki had played a big part in getting Reesa through the aftermath of her actions.

So, back on that cool evening, she may have been hoping for Nikki, with her swishing skirts and high necked collars, to turn the corner. She wasn't exactly expecting a boy, not more than two years younger than her, to be trying to sneak his way into the hallway in which she stood. A flash of recognition passed through her dark eyes, and she took a step away from the open, glassless window, closer to the younger teen. It was Nikki's younger brother, Isaiah, an errand boy who she hardly spoke to. Eyeing one of the older serving ladies who had found an excuse to linger by the end of the hall, not so secretively eyeing Theresa's actions, Reesa carefully stepped forward to the younger person, slightly raising an eyebrow.

Worry was scrawled on his face, but so was determination. That didn't stop his voice from shaking when he spoke.

"Reesa…" he murmured, hesitantly meeting his eyes. Hardly anyone called her Reesa; only her closest friends, and Nikki; maybe that's where he'd learned the nickname from.

She smiled, and, though she was slightly questioning the boy's appearance here, she didn't show it; she might've just been overreacting. Her actions in her current reliving of the event were matching the original day down to a tee.

"Isaiah," she faintly smiled, nodding her head a fraction, and spoke smoothly, "How are you doing? I haven't seen your sister lately; tell her hello for me, would you?"

The boy flinched at her words, and only then did she notice, in the dim lighting, the tears gathering in his eyes.

"Do… do we need to talk in private, Isaiah?" she asked carefully in a low voice, words steady.

He only nodded shakily, not meeting her eyes. This was out of character from what she knew of the boy; when she had seen him, in front of 'better people' he was quiet and respectful, but usually around people he knew he was always making jokes and poking fun at his only slightly older sister.

She nodded back at him, and led the way, walking calmly down the hallway, away from the maid who was dutifully watching her movement. As the maid moved, ready to follow her, Theresa spoke up, loud enough for her to hear down the hall. "I'm heading back to my room, Myriana," she spoke, addressing the older woman. Her room branched off of the next hall, and had been noticeably modified months ago, with windows having grates put in place and all potentially hazardous objects moved to a public room, leaving it quite barren. "I plan on writing a letter, and need it delivered." She spoke the lie easily at this point, and the woman bought it, not wanting to raise suspicion by insisting she follow the girl; everyone somehow believed Theresa was nearly oblivious to her shadows.

As the door shut behind the two, the younger boy couldn't help the tears in his eyes, and his voice ached of betrayal and heartache. "Reesa…" his voice cracked, "They know about you and Nikki." He took a shuddering breath, locking his jaw and grinding his teeth, but Reesa froze, ice gripping her heart, unspeaking.

The younger brother continued, fists balled at his sides. "They're charging her with… treason…" he got out, but the tears were running down his face now. Reesa couldn't speak, but, robotically, her hands covered her mouth; shawl forgotten, it draped further off her arms. She started hiccupping with sobs soon after, lowering herself to the floor and hugging her knees. She held no power in court, even as the daughter of the two most influential people there; she was unmarried as of now. She couldn't sway the heavy sentence that came with treason… Execution…

"M-Maybe… I-I c…can… P-Parents…" she stuttered, mind falling blank. It couldn't be happening… How had they known… T-They couldn't have… Treason… No… How… Had she let… That… Happen…They'd known the risk…. But… Never been caught…. No one… Cared…. How….

When she leaned forward and held tightly to Nikki's brother, who had dropped to his knees, too, he held back onto her, and she sobbed into his shoulder, body shaking, though muffling it as much as possible; it wouldn't do good to be caught like that. The younger boy cried silently, but it was clear he had already begun to come to terms with it. Executions on behalf of treason weren't common, but they weren't as rare as they should've been. The slightest bit of proof, also known as a whisper from a higher classed citizen, and a lower member of society could be tried and sentenced. He knew there was no hope, and Reesa was crying was remained of hers away. They sat there for who knows how long.

Eventually, they both stopped, and sat on the cold floor in numb silence, not far apart from each other from when they broke their embrace. What remained of the sun had set outside, filling the room with a cold chill, fitting the moment. She broke the silence, throat hoarse. "When," she said, blankly. "A-And… how… did you know…?"

He remained quiet for a few seconds, still on the floor, head in hands. His voice was steadier now, and the traces of anger could be heard lacing it. "Rumors spread fast in the kitchens; as long as it doesn't reach ears like yours, no one cares what news spreads," he said, voice low. "I found out earlier today, but I couldn't come tell you. I didn't have the chance. They're… They're announcing it tomorrow. She's been in custody for two days. I knew she was missing, but I never thought…"

Announcing it. That was such a mediocre term. The trial took place as soon as it became known that the accused was to be put on the trial stand. Proceeding the trial was the execution. The trials hardly ever ended in favor of the accused; the few times it had happened were due to faulty evidence. When it had been the person versus the word of a superior, though… There was no such hope.

"Who?" she asked, voice raw with emotion. She was barely able to stop herself from shaking again.

"…I don't know…" he whispered.

She took in a deep breath, moving her feet beneath her and pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. "You need to leave." Her voice wavered slightly, but it held finality to it. This sentence raised the teen to his feet, and his face was unreadable, clear of emotion. She hated that look on young people's faces; she saw it on her own face too often, when she let the smile fall, not around people she loved.

"I can't. I n…need to see her… This is everything we'd always worked towards. Please, I need to stay."

Reesa slowly shook her head. She had seen how often families carried their loved ones' sentences in some way. "Isaiah… Even if I can… c-change what will happen… And… I-I'm going to try… with all of my heart, I swear… You can't be here."

"I need to stay," he said, but the tone was weak.

She shook her head once more. "You've seen w-what… happens to family members. I can't let that happen. Nikki doesn't want that to happen. It's only a matter of time, if someone doesn't want her here…" Her voice nearly cracked as she said the other girl's name. "Leave. Say you're carrying a letter to the town over. Don't come back."

"Let me leave after tomorrow… please…" he said, voice hushed.

She flinched, knowing what he meant. "Isaiah. She wouldn't w… want you to see that. You know that. I'll find a way to get to you, if I get her out…" What was unsaid spoke louder than her actual words. If I get her out, we'd both have to leave. We'd both be officially traitors if I tried.

His head hung. He was so young, but here he was, delivering the news that his sister would be executed, and knowing he couldn't do anything to stop it; yet, he was composed better than some forty year olds she had met. It shouldn't have to be that way. The worst part was, she knew it would always be that way in this world. The young carried burdens too heavy, ones they shouldn't have even known existed. And there wasn't anything she could do to make a difference. Not here, not now, not ever.

"I… I'm so sorry, Isaiah. T-There's no room for debate…" she whispered, shakily trying to pull herself together. "It was only you two, wasn't it…? Leave. I… I'll get her out, Isaiah, I promise. Or I'll die trying."

The teen had dried his tears, and slowly nodded after a moment of pause. She rose first, taking a deep breath before plastering a smile on her face. She held the door open with grace, gesturing for the boy to exit. He stepped closer to the doorframe, and as he stepped through it, a brief expression came over her face, and she darted back into the room, retrieving an empty envelope from her desk and stuffing it into the boy's hand.

"Go, Isaiah," she murmured to him, eyes darting down the hallway. "I'll do something. Anything. Just stay safe. For her."

He nodded, swallowing his comments, and turned down the hallway, footsteps swift and sure. His silhouette was faintly lit as he disappeared around the corner, and Reesa frowned, ignoring the burning in her throat and her eyes. She couldn't cry. Nikki wasn't gone yet. There was hope. If only she had remembered it was only a memory, or remembered that the walls have eyes, and ears, and gaping holes that lead to thirty foot falls.

Next chapter: Should the dream continue, or is it time for Reesa to wake up?