The car ride back to their appartment felt like the longest drive Amy has ever taken, the chilled skin of the key and the on coming traffic lights flickered by, she began to doze off until the engine of the car's rhytumical hum came to an end as the car haulted abruptly. The young girl lifted her lazy head up from the side of her window to see the parkinglot and stacks of appartments hauling over one another, Natasha turned to her daughter, tears welled up in her eyes 'was I doing the right thing', though she wouldnt dare let them brink over the edges of her eyelashes. "Here, take two it says." The mother handed the girl two small tablets, Amy looked at the twin pills and tiled her head back, poping then in and swallowed dryly. With the indulgent of the medication she felt all her limbs become dead weight, her head slumped back resting on the window, her jaw relaxed and her entire body went numb with darkend circles tracing her eyelids she had finally fallen asleep, her body defeated.
Natasha hulked the petit child up, balancing her as she carried the girl up the stairs into appartment building 18, Amy was left on the living room sofa to rest for as long as she needed to. The mother left her child to sleep as she colapsed on the floor next to her, exausted and drained from countless hours of stress and fatigue.
Deep in her mind as Amy's physical state has been under resting for hours now, she awoke in a dream, this dream did not make her hide tears or run and scream to awaken in a cold sweat, this dream took its time, it was slowly progressing as a scene of wood carved walls decorated in a collection of books and clocks, each clock read a different hour as each book had the same title. Amy Odweel glanced ahead, at the end of the narrow hallway of dim light and green moss carpet, a portraid of a painted woman hung to the wall. The woman's eyes, hiden by a lace mass of long eyelashes and closed eyelids that met with thin eyebrows. Her hair had an up-do you would expect to see in a historical masquerade, curls of oak colored hair nested upon her child like apperance, she had to of been in her late twenties by how the look of such a strong neck and cheek bones portrude as her fineist features, truely beautiful Amy gasped in owe of this marvoulous painting, so realistic and soft with each stroke. "Put to sleep." A voice echoed from the painting it seemed, Amy meant to step forward but as usual, in each dream, her limbs where unmovable. The voice repeated and echoed from behind the girl now, and soon the feeling of fine hair brushed Amy's cheek, when turned to find the speeker she had no luck, just more books. Amy's voice was silent and only the sound of her breath would excape her mouth. "Dolly, thats the woman's name." A familiar voice announced. "Though, she is asleep, as seen in the painting." Amy stuttered backwards in shock when the face of the black haired boy came to her sight, fallowed by a body this time, the boy was dressed in a butler's suit His eyes scanned Amy's attire with near disgust.
"Where exactly am I?" Amy pondered, asking the boy instead of listening to what he has to say. The boy's eyebrow twitched and he let out a sigh of annoyance, "Where you even listening?" He taps his foot impatiently on the flooring. "No, not really, I dont much care about who that is. Again, where am I?" Amy repeats herself, staring the boy dead in the eyes, somthing was different about him this time as she remimbers the last time they made contact, 'To assume I was the girl in the painting was rather far fetched.' Amy ponders in her mind as she glances at the painting. All the clocks on the walls chimed, some had heavyer tone than most. "You'll figure that out sooner or later, Amy." The stoic boy echoed above the chimes of each clock, then disapeared, evaporated from where he stood. He was verry much to himself and preserved, stoic by nature to match the butler's uniform he wore. The chimes stripped Amy away from her dream and sent her back into her reality. Being dragged to and from her lucid dreams and switched into reality she never thought she'd get the hang of. When she awoke she found herself staring into a peircing light, her arms sore and her back cold. Her eyes adjusted to the scene to find herself hospitalized, her mother sleeping with her head resting on Amy's hand, dried tears held fast to her cheeks. "Mom.." Amy's voice was almost muted, and adventualy gave up on making any noise. She lay sloth like with an IV drip dug into her arm.
She would never really know what got her to be there.
