the sun only betrays

Miles away in her bedroom, the sun poured through Deirdre's window, stinging her eyes with a passionate mocking fury. It did this every morning but seemed slightly less than uninviting today. The sun was never a comfort to her. It only stole the night away from her weary body and mind.
 Don't wake me up! I am still dreaming! She did not want to be disturbed. But, for her eerie dreams to be disrupted, she'd gladly brave the day. The dark circles underneath her foggy emerald eyes betrayed her lack of sleep for days now. Probably more than that really. She groggily arose from the comfort and safety of her bed and turned her sink on. Her face arose to greet her mirror's reflection, aghast by her own appearance. Her hair a rat's nest by her definition. Skin oily, yet to be washed. Her eyes, she observed, unusually puffy and red. It puzzled her because even after crying, she did not get noticeably puffy, red eyes. She brought a washcloth to her face, cleansing away all traces of tears and muddied make up. She had showered the night before to compensate. She knew she wouldn't feel like it today. She drug a comb through her matted mane and face her reflection once again. Displeased, as expected, she returned to her bed. Her parents knew she felt ill. They would not disturb her peace.

She was afraid to return to sleep. Those dreams, those terrible dreams. Dreams of Adelaide being ensnared by a dark, looming apparition with chains around it's ankles and neck. Waiting, watching. Trying to grab her away in the night. In her helpless state. The dreams of the creature were relentless, it was as if it was too close to be unrelated, but Deirdre could not be entirely sure.
 The day after she found out of Adelaide's disappearance she dreamt she too had run away. But ended up somehow in the middle of nowhere and nothing. The dreams frightened her to no end. She was so sick. Sick of being sick. Sick of being here. Restless, she went to her easel. Her confessional. The outpour of her mind's inner workings. She had no ideas. No fresh perspective. She was dry. And she hated it. With a passion and a raging blaze none other would understand. She looked upon a piece that Adelaide had raved over and over about. A piece she loved. Her bittersweet memories returned and she missed her friend badly. But she could not cry anymore. I've spent ten years singing gravity away, but the water keeps on falling from my eyes. The water couldn't fall from her eyes. She didn't allow it. She hated to cry anymore.

She felt her eyelids growing heavy again. She was exhausted no matter how much she slept. She spent night after weary night tossing and turning and struggling to stay in a stable slumber.
She retreated to her bed once again. Hoping to retrieve lost hours of sleep. Even lost minutes would suffice. Up to this point it was getting ridiculous. Knowing she wouldn't, Deirdre climbed into bed anyway. She pulled the ivory covers over her head and buried her head in the pillow. Somehow, by some miracle of God, she drifted off.

Deirdre she heard a voice, a familiar one, calling her name sweetly. Euphorically. So very faint, but almost like a soft spoken lullaby. Words meant to be said and not sung. The child within so longed for a lullaby. Deirdre, I'm cold. Please help me. She saw a haggard, ghostly figure approach her. Hobbling step by step, the figure grew closer. She gaped in horror at what she saw. Addie?! she opened her mouth to synch the words but they did not come out. Deirdre. Deirdre. I'm so very cold. Please help me. As if it weren't enough that Adelaide was painfully thin, her beautiful almond eyes were hollow and dark. Glass. Dark, hollow, glass. Her black hair stringy and dirty. Matted. Her skin, pale as the full moon arbitrarily towering overhead. Mocking as it's lover, the sun. Deirdre tried to move closer to her. Adelaide moved away with every step Deirdre took closer. No, Deirdre, my dove. Don't touch me. I'm unclean. Not fitting. Then backed away slowly, still facing Deirdre. Staring her down with her soulless eyes. Unclean, unclean. I am a monster. Don't look at me. Then disappeared into the fog.

Deirdre opened her eyes and cried.