Friend Of The Dead

More Pieces To The Puzzles

Edited

Sophie shot up in her bed, a layer of sweat covering her forehead and her tank top sticking to her like a layer of second skin. Her lungs were empty, and no matter how heavily she breathed in it seemed like all her airways were blocked. She ran a cold hand over her forehead, wiping off droplets of sweat. Her heartbeat erratically in her chest to the point where it was painful. She smoothed her hand through her hair, collecting it all and gripping it at the base of her neck making her shiver as cold blew over her sweaty back.

She slumped back onto the rumpled pillows when she looked outside and saw the still darkened sky.

She held her breath to slow down her heartbeat.

Nighttime was a nightmare to Sophie. The time where she would have no choice but lie in bed and wait for the nightmares to come, where she had no choice but to see them. Sophie Swan was scarred, that little fact wasn't shown but it was known. Athena's death left a mark on her that caused her to become empty, wandering aimlessly in an empty town, observing everything with vacant eyes. Haunted eyes. Scarred eyed.

Time may move forward, but the images never left her, and neither did her memories. Her own brain became her boogeyman.

Every night, after sleep inevitably caught up to her, she would witness again as Athena flew across that road, blood flying from her wounds like red rain. She would hear the echo of her scream, that agonizing childlike scream. She would hear the sickening crunch as Athena's bones popped out of place upon her landing. It was excruciating.

Sophie logically knew that the nightmares were this intense tonight because of her encounter with Anthony. Spending the entire day with him brought back the memories she'd buried. It wasn't his fault, she knew that he had no choice in looking like her, in the way his laugh was similar to hers, the way he scrunched up his nose when concentrating just like her. But right now Sophie couldn't stop herself from resenting him, just a little.

She hated to admit it, it was like swallowing poison, but she was tired. Sophie was like a rubber band; she would stretch only so far before snapping to pieces. And she was slowly reaching her limits. She huffed as she shifted on her side and stared out the window. The moon was a beautiful round globe in the sky of Forks, its light reflected onto the forest, bringing it to shine. The stars were clear in the inky darkness of the sky. Back in Arizona, there weren't this many stars shown in the sky, the city lights drowned them all out. They sparkled proudly in their place with an aura of mocking. As if mocking Sophie with the fact that they had no problems, no nightmares, and no haunted memories. They're beautiful and admired by all those who set eyes upon them. They all connect to the other, creating visions of wonder if you were able to see the bigger picture. They say your futures written in the stars, so if she could only reach out, if she could only hear them, she would know what's in store for her. If she could only hear the sweet lullaby they sing with a soft angelic voice to understand what was so special about her, why did she have the gift of seeing beyond the boundaries? Why her?

She got up and out of her bed. Walking across her room to her window. Opening it with a sigh as the cold night breeze brushed her face and ruffled her hair. She took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh air and closing her eyes. She looked up at the sky and squinted until the sequined lights were just blurry shapes. The stars, they looked so close yet they were so far away. When she was a child, Sophie believed that you could touch the stars if you were tall enough and you reached out long enough. One of the things she was envious of Tony as a child was the fact that he was taller than her, and to her, he looked tall enough to be able to grab a star.

But that was only a lonesome child's wild imagination.

Shaking her head, she walked back to her bed and sat down on it, looking around her room with her shoulders slumped. Staring at her sketchbook on her nightstand, gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, and scratching at the back of her hand---a habit she started after nightmares---she got up with a definitive sigh and made her way across her room to sit at her desk chair, recalling the nightmare as she walked downstairs.