GM-46

Back to reality

16.

"Nathaniel!"

Alexandra Rousseau sat up in a sweat, startled awake by her own scream.

"Nathaniel..." she murmured, clutching her head in her hands.

Hurried footsteps pounded the floor in the corridor, followed by a light scratching at the door.

"Alex? Can I come in?"

Worry seeped through her mother's voice, but the young girl remained silent, still in shock from the terrible images of her dream and unable to utter a word.

"Sweetheart?"

The door opened gently.

"Are you alright?"

Light flooded the room, revealing a spacious attic bedroom with light-gray walls. Perpendicular to the wall opposite the door, the double bed sat under the central beam. Alexandra sat curled up, her knees drawn up and her arms encircling them. Her long auburn hair fell like fine rain around her frail body. Her face buried, she sobbed.

"Alex..."

Her mother's head appeared in the doorway, her coppery hair perfectly styled despite the late hour.

The forty-something entered, pulled back the blue comforter that hung over the side and sat down on the edge of the bed. She ran a hand down her daughter's back, stroking the long mottled gray T-shirt that served as her nightie.

"Another nightmare?" she asked.

The teenager was still sobbing.

"It's all these images, you know, you should change them."

She observed the sophisticated mosaic carpeting the walls. After her more or less glamorous "vampire" phase, her daughter was now fascinated by the many creatures that populated myths, tales and legends. Frozen on glossy paper, half-human, half-beast creatures stared into the center of the room with their unreal-colored gazes.

"How can you sleep with these... monsters?"

The usually quick-witted teenager didn't answer. This was no time for rebellious banter.

At seventeen, Alexandra considered herself independent. Both from the unavoidable groups of "friends," of which she had not many, and from her family. But tonight, she needed support, and her mother's presence reassured her.

"It's... it's..." she sobbed, lifting her head. Her blue eyes, flooded with tears, squinted under the assault of the bright light. Two more drops rolled down her livid cheeks. With motherly care, Catherine Rousseau grabbed a box of tissues from the bedside table and handed it to her daughter, who helped herself without restraint. After wiping her face, she blew her nose and took a deep breath.

"It's so real," she stammered, squeezing the tissues in her hand.

Her mother gave her a comforting smile.

"Like the doctor said, it's exhaustion and anxiety. You're worrying too much about your exams... And the school year only just started, that's promising...

She gently pushed a strand of hair back behind her daughter's ear. "You need to rest. Go to bed earlier, relax too. Stop a bit with your... your whims. You're too involved in things that are beyond you."

The teenager leaned back against the bed's headboard and let her gaze run over the thin plastic streamers that linked opposite corners of her room. They intersected above her bed in a colorful focal point. The long garlands repeated their message in an endless sequence. "ANOTHER WORLD IS POSSIBLE" displayed in white on a pink background, "GLOBALIZE RESISTANCE" sprawled in black on an orange background.