Nighttime presses against the small window in my room. I try so hard for sleep, but my insomnia has grown miserably. I know that I want to fall asleep, but I don’t want to dream. I really don’t want to dream..
Because I know I’ll dream of Leon.
You see, Leon’s special sense is that he can guide you through dreams. I didn’t believe he was telling the truth until he appeared in my dream one night.
He tells you the truth, but not the truth you care to hear. He tells you about imperfections you may have, or maybe the reason some people don’t like you.
Like I said, the things you don’t want to know.
—
I’m awaken by the sound of heels pressing against the stone floors of the hallway.
We haven’t had new visitors in years. No one dares to come near our dark house. They think we’re crazy, and I sadly agree with them.
The footsteps grow closer, so close. As if they are right outside my door. My father’s room is the only other room in this hall.
I decide to hop out of bed. I pull on some clean clothes, run water on my face, drink some coffee, then instantly I’m out the door spying on our guest.
The footsteps stop.
“How are you today, my dear?” My mother smoothly says.
I stop where I am and gather my surroundings. She couldn’t have been talking to me, I’m not in her sight.
I peer around the corner..
“That doesn’t matter, Veloci. My answer will not please you, but I must ask.. Do I look somewhat presentable? Maybe your husband, Lutharius,” she says sneering his name, “will finally see where I’m coming from. Since last time that didn’t turn over very well.”
“Didn’t turn over very well? I guess that has to do with opinion, because you made a promise.”
“Touché..”
“He made a promise to you, too.”
“I know this, Veloci. That’s what I’m here. I can find a way to violate our agreement, so he has to kill me.”
So far, this guest seems to be so much like me.
The only difference is that she’s beautiful.
Dark mahogany-red hair brushes along her face into long waves. Golden eyes look up at my mother through thick dark lashes. She’s short and small, but seems to make up for it with her personality.
But, apparently she has had some odd experiences herself..
That’s the only lucid reason to want to die.
“Then, yes,” my mother says sadly looking down. I notice she seems to be very comfortable around this stranger.
“Yes..?” The girl says, “Yes, what?”
“Yes, you look presentable.”
And it was true. She was wearing a dress, with high heels and nice jewelry on. But, why would she be dressed up to see my father? Maybe she wants to look good in an afterlife..
“Thanks,” she mutters walking away.
Even though I just discovered that there are others suffering, I already know I want to stop it. I went through this and just now reached a sane point in my life, and now other people are repeating the process all over again for themselves.
Never in my life have I hated my father more.
