Friend Of The Dead

Brittle And Broken

Sophie lay in her bed, tucked in comfortably; she was kissed on the cheek by her mother who left after finishing the lullaby. The words still floated languidly around her mind, hazy and soft and sweet.

Goodnight, to every little hour that you sleep tight. . .may it hold you through the winter of a long night. . .and keep you from the loneliness of yourself. . .

She turned onto her side and stuffed her hand under her face. Though her mother always sang lullabies to her before sleep, they weren't always effective. Especially on nights such as this one, when the thunderstorm was loud enough to drown out those stray voices from unclaimed memories in her head. She wasn't afraid of the thunder, nor of the lightning, why would she be afraid of it when science explained it so expertly? As it turns out, she's the only enigma that science and logic are unable to decipher. But it's not like she hasn't tried hard enough herself, she's read all the books a six-year-old could read. And even though she's just learned to read properly, and though she couldn't pronounce some of the words, she could deduce enough of the books to know that whatever she held within her hands that gave her such powers, was not scientific.

She shifted onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She's always had these powers, this weird thing in the tips of her fingers and her palms that made her able to dive into someone's mind and explore it at her leisure. But if she was to be given superpowers, why couldn't be something like invisibility or Superman's ability to fly? But she didn't have a cape; after all, according to Sir Anthony who strongly argued this fact, Superman's ability to fly lay in his cape. No cape, no flight. But memories? Out of all the amazing superhero abilities, she was given memories. What was she supposed to do with them? It's not like she can alter them, nor would she want to. It wasn't a gift, Sophie huffed, it was a curse.

Like the one that the evil fairy Maleficent placed on Princess Aurora. Sure, it would have been nice to also be gifted with beauty and song and true love along with the curse like Sleeping beauty, but all Sophie got out of her misfortune was the inability to make contact with any other human being. She didn't even get the 'Gold of sunshine in her hair. Lips that shame the red, red rose. She'll walk with springtime wherever she goes.'

She didn't even see a glimpse of spring; that particular season of the year was only a myth in the gaunt town of Forks. But she'd take pricking her shall finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel over memories any day. After all, if she fell into an eternal slumber because of that curse, she'd have a valid reason not to go to school. And she would get a few years of sleep while her Prince came. If he even existed. Sophie frowned at the thought. Maybe Sir Anthony would be willing to help her out of the curse, but he didn't have to kiss her! That would be much too weird. He could just coax her out of her sleep, if that didn't work, then maybe a kiss on the cheek would suffice, afterward, she could clean her face with soap and bleach. That would get rid of the cooties.

Sophie sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Such thoughts were strange to be coming to her mind, and she wondered why on this particular night, sleep was evading her. Maybe it was because of the way her parents had looked at her with definite concern at breakfast this morning. They didn't think she saw it, but Sophie was way too observant for her age. Not even the littlest things could go past her. It was a talent she'd picked up from hiding in the corners of the room. They shared that look again; the one that meant they were considering the option of consoling with a psychiatrist. And only because she'd shrunk away from her father, Charlie, when he'd tried to pick her up. Truly, she hadn't meant to. It was pure reflex, her limbs had moved before her brain had processed the decision her body made. She hadn't been wearing her gloves. In her haste to go to school without being late, she'd forgotten her gloves on her small bed. Only when Charlie had advanced to pick her up, did she realize the absence of the cloths. So, she had tried her best to ignore that look as she slunk upstairs to retrieve them.