When Annice thinks back to that October month. It’s scratched and sitting in the back of her mind, collecting dust. Her brain doing its best to purge the memories. But she can’t help but cling to her final moments.

Sunlight came through her window. It touched her blood-stained bed sheets. The rays travelled across the floor and settled on her back.

There she sat. A frazzled mound of kinky black hair hunched over her desk.

She doesn’t often remember what she does when she dreams. Just a suffocating weight on her chest and severe back pain that wakes her up in the morning. She would record anything she could remember from the night before in her journal.

She was supposed to be having breakfast with my family right about now. She preferred to spend her time reaching into the dark recesses of her mind. That’s where she could find answers. Even if they were scraps.

The only thing she could thank these nightmares for are time to herself. From dusk till dawn, writing down everything she could. Symbols, sounds, sometimes even faces. Smiling and snarling at her in flashes of fire. She’d manage to make passable sketches. They looked like a toddler’s disturbing art project. But for the sake of her own sanity, she needed to have these haunting faces in physical form.

To prove she wasn’t losing her mind. Not completely. Not yet.

Even in ink, they were…something else. The feature that stood out most was a wicked grin from ear to ear. This wasn’t like the others she’d glimpsed. The face of her demon that’d perch on her chest like a gargoyle. Their shadow looming over her as she struggled to break eye contact. That was her main culprit.

But then there was him. This bold figure that thrashed against the darkness, reaching out for her. She was immobilized, only an observer but knew she still played a part. Rarely, he would look her in the eyes, a hand outstretched and shaking from fear of losing her again. Much more appealing than eyes void of a soul.

But he would lose her. Every night. In shadows and blood and devilish smiles. All of it lost in her screams and sobbing as she’s jolted awake. Her brain locked these images away before she could scrounge for them. Waiting until she was ready to witness.

But now it was different.

She didn’t scream anymore. She still cried. But quietly, as to not call attention to those sleeping. She’d heave into her pillows and beg her nightmares to stay with her.

Annice blinked back into reality when someone knocked on her door. She realized there was a pool of ink on her page. She frowned to herself, ignoring the door opening and footsteps following.

She wanted so badly to be alone. No loud talking or snide remarks. No need to bottle up a mountain of criticism that would likely stir.

But she could never make that call. Especially not on a day like this.

Helen came in, wide eyed and neat. The bags under her eyes barely hidden by the primness of her hair and uniform. Her shoes clicked against the floors as she went to pull the curtains open.

“It’s past morning.” A draft hit Annice’s back. She shivered. The windows were unlatched, sweeping away the nasty smell of blood in the room.

Annice quickly shut her journal and prayed the ink wouldn’t stain too badly. She turned to glare at Helen as she picked up the bundle of blankets off the floor.

“When the lady of the house calls, you answer.” Her nose visibly upturned, and a deep sigh left her. “And call the maids when you need replacements.”

Annice jumped in her seat at Helen’s booming voice as left the room. She called for a string of maids came to clean up her mess. The pain in Annice’s upper back jabbed her before settling again.

She did her best to hide cursing behind a bitten bottom lip. She reached back and flinched. Helen called out from the hall. “Brunch is being held in the garden. One hour. I’ll call the young master to mend you.”

Annice groaned and stretched out the receding aches in her body. She took a moment to breath before noticing fresh blood from her fingers. They stained her journal cover and joined the other dried prints on the leather.

“Fuck…”

It was an obligation. Not a pleasure. Not like it used to be.

When soaking in the bath Annice would stay until her skin started to prune. She relished in the water getting colder. She’d sink below and refuse to take a breath for as long as she could manage.

It gave her opportunity. Yes, that’s it.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Opportunity…To disappear and pray no one would find a trace of her.

To her dismay, someone always came to pull her back to the bathroom and lukewarm water. Her hair fully drenched and weighing her down as she looked around.

“Helen told me you had nightmares last night?”

The voice of her brother echoed from behind the door. It was open slightly ajar.

Annice sighed and pulled herself out of the tub. It didn’t take long to prepare herself to be treated as her brother and a young maid followed behind.

They brought a container of ointments, tools and bandages inside. They had many around their home, not just for emergencies. But mainly for Annice.

Most noble families had a doctor, whether that be within our territories or family, that dealt with any illness or injury that occurred. No doctor’s passed through these halls. Not in many years.

They had no doctor at the ready. They had Ingram.

He was the pride of the Mezziane name.

He doesn’t have it though. The name that is. But he’s got loads of pride. He always held his head high and his shoulders straight. He was the first contact for many fellow nobility that crossed this clan’s path, and naturally they were charmed. A gentle giant, towering over everyone, save for his father who rivaled his height. Ever since he’d joined the knighthood of Lenoa, he’s proudly adorned a medallion of their symbol that kept his cloak secure on his grainy green garbs. He wore the scars on his face with his inky black hair swept back. He never looked like he knew what was going on around him, only the path ahead of him.

Among this cursed family, he may be the only one that has no real burden to bear.

Annice remembered the nights when she was afraid to fall asleep. Ingram would keep her company, so that when nightmares came, she wouldn’t be alone to face them. Sometimes when that wouldn’t work, their father would be there to tell them stories until they fell asleep.

Ingram was always the first to drift off, he was never really interested in fairy tales. His sister, on the other hand, would gladly immerse herself in them to escape the horrors her own imagination obsessively conjured.

It was soothing to be cradled in their warmth. Ingram’s loud snoring made Annice happy knowing at least one of them would sleep soundly. She’d close her eyes and lean into her father. The heavy scent of pine clung to him, and it had brought her momentary peace.

That’s when he’d stay with the siblings in dead silence, until his own dreams came back to haunt him.

He’d speak of ravenous winters with wind that bit at his skin. Clinging to Ingram, when he was just a baby, wrapped in furs and hoping that light would find them before snow swept them away. He worried about the times where he swore, he nearly had to amputate his fingers. The numbness was too much to bear but he needed to stay focused. He had a baby that needed him. His son desperately needed to cling to his hands, grip his fingers, and never forget he had someone watching over him.

Annice never stopped her father from retelling these memories to seemingly nobody. In some weird way, these gruesome details brought her comfort. She knew everything he did was genuine sacrifice, taking bits and pieces of himself to keep others whole.

As Annice would drift off to sleep, she would hold his hand and focus on his warmth. He would gently squeeze and hold his children closer, praying that light would always find them the next morning.

“Did you want to tell me what it was about?”

Annice blinked. Re-adjusting in the stool she was sat in.

“Your dream that is.”

She loosened the robe and clung to it tightly at the front. She took a deep breath as cold metal poked and punctured flesh. She lowered her head and continued to breath and out in slow rhythm. Ingram gently pressed his hand to her upper back, prompting Annice to sit up straight.

She glanced behind her with a sour look. The doe-eyed maid that stood nearby had her sights to the ground. It was obvious when she snuck a peek at Ingram while he worked. When she made eye contact with Annice, the little countess frowned. The maid quickly averted her gaze.

Ingram caught Annice’s scowl and sighed.

Once he finished patching up her major wounds and sterilizing them, he handed his tools to the maid. She was promptly dismissed and that left him and Annice in annoying silence.

“If you keep looking at them like that, no wonder they don’t listen to you.”

Annice curled up and hugged one of her knees, pressing her forehead to it.

“Just get on with it.” She mumbled.

She closed my eyes and focused on the sounds of Ingram’s movement. Two steps towards her. He adjusts his sleeves again.

Suddenly, there’s a shift in the air. The constant energy flowing through her body suddenly came to a halt. He pressed his hands to Annice’s back. She cringed as her skin and blood begin to shift his fingers.

Her shoulders tensed as she felt her energy slip away. She could barely hold onto it. But forced herself to release the grip she had on the rush of magic running to her back. It was useless, like water through your fingertips, it could only follow the current.

Annice gritted her teeth, struggling to choke out words. “I saw a man’s face.” The magic’s flow began to slow.

“It was hidden in shadow and…he was being followed.”

“Followed?” Ingram repeated. She shook her head.

“Haunted.”

Annice gingerly turned in her seat to meet his eyes. The way he stared at her. That concern in his eyes. What a joke. It was starting to look like everyone else.

She faltered for a moment before turning away.

“He looked familiar for some reason.”

She got up and shrugged the bathrobe back on. Annice wordlessly trudged to the door, the horrid realization that the day was truly beginning and would eventually end.

“What’d he look like?”

Like dad.

That was a lie. It felt like one, at least. Annice had seen his face before, and it looked like the portrait in the old study. Instead of being coated in a thick layer of dust it was shadows brought to life and cast over his grim visage.

There was an essence about Annice’s father. Gleaming and golden.

The one she felt in her dreams was an unforgiving cold.

“I don’t know.” She opened the door slightly, peeking to see Helen waiting across the hall patiently.

“Did he hurt you?” Ingram asked. “Were you scared of him?” Annice didn’t bother to look back at him.

Nobody would ever say it, but when they ask about her state of mind, they were too busy with whatever’s bothering them than actually wanting to listen. She knew it was starting to be the same for Ingram. Annice saw it in his eyes, behind the green was a wonderland of his own creation. A fool’s paradise. Her blights didn’t quite register outside of a sibling’s nuisance. So why bother giving him a proper answer when he’s already drained her of her energy.

“It doesn’t really matter now.”

She left him and let Helen guide me back to her room.