IN HER DREAMS IT WAS VERY COLD, AND WHAT LITTLE WARMTH THERE was seemed to be radiating from Benedict's skin. He sat on a mossy stone in the forest and looked at her with his sad, lost eyes. Then he stood up, turned his back, and walked away from Vesta, leaving her in the cold and rapidly fading light. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn't catch up to him; no matter how loud she shouted she was sorry, he never turned. She fell to the mossy ground of the forest, weeping. Then the darkness bleached off and she was standing in the sunlight of the glades. She was running not to catch Benedict but to get to the Manor before it was too late. No matter how hard she ran, the Manor was just out of reach. Then it was gone in a loud blast that shattered it to smithereens. Her home. Her father.
Troubled, she woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again.
The weeks that followed the accident were uneasy, tense and full of regrets.
To her alarm, she found herself the center of attention for the rest of the week. Josh was nigh impossible, following her around, obsessed with making amends somehow. Vesta tried her best to make him go away, trying to convince him what she wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it but he remained insistent. He followed her between classes and Vesta had to take to planning her route with almost military precision since Benedict wasn't available to serve as a deterrent to Josh. But Josh managed to catch her every single time much to Lorraine's amusement. Her amusement soured when she found out Josh would be coming along with them to La Push — since he now sat at their crowded lunch table — and he'd be bringing Cathy along. Lorraine wore a frosty sneer whenever she saw him after then.
Benedict got his own fair share of hassle. A lot of people had seen him dash across the lot to pull Vesta away just in the nick of time and had turned him to the hero. Everywhere he went, there was an adoring sophomore looking at him or a girl twirling her hair and giggling when he went by much to Lorraine's chagrin. But it wasn't much of a new thing for people to fawn over Benedict. It wasn't because he was suddenly a hero. It was Benedict himself. Benedict was simply a happy, warm and charming person, and he carried that happiness with him like an aura, sharing it with whoever was near him. It was natural, a part of who he was. Their very own Forks High sun. It was no wonder people wanted to be around him. The heroic deed just amplified that.
Vesta suspected that was part of the reason Josh was now more or less permanently seated at their table. Whenever he wasn't apologizing to Vesta to the point of harassment, he was gazing at Benedict with an almost puppy-like awe. He beamed with light whenever Benedict spoke directly to him. Something Benedict never did to Vesta anymore.
When he sat next to her in class — she had resumed her usual sitting position — he seemed totally unaware of her presence. She wanted very much to talk to him, and on the day after the accident she tried. The last time she'd seen him, outside the E.R, she'd said a lot of hurtful things and she would never forget the look in his eyes. She'd often toyed with the thought of telling him the truth but balked at it. It wasn't because she didn't trust him but she wouldn't endanger his life. He'd saved her life and she wouldn't repay him with danger. Yet, she ached physically at the distance between them. The compulsion it seemed had worked too well.
He was already seated when she got to English, looking straight ahead. She sat down, expecting him to turn towards her. He showed no sign he realized someone was there.
"Hello, Benedict," she said pleasantly, her heart thudding in her chest.
He turned his head a fraction towards her, a faint puzzled frown between his brows, nodded once, and then looked the other way.
And that was the last contact she'd had with him, though he was there, a foot or more away from her, everyday. She watched him sometimes, unable to stop herself, questions itching her skin. She hadn't forgotten how fast he'd move that he blurred. She was miserable. The nights were worse. Even though she remained awake, the nightmares tormented her, picking at the jagged hole in her until agony washed her over and over. She cried most nights.
In the second week, the attention on Vesta cooled as there was nothing fresh and new looming on the horizon. Two new students! Brian had heard it from Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist. They arrived in Forks over the weekend and would resume school later that week. Everyone began whispering about it, guessing who they were and where they'd come from. Nobody really knew much about them and Brian said the information was all hush-hush.
Cathy — whose new presence at the lunch table was a source of pain for Nate and extreme irritation for Lorraine — told them that they'd bought a fancy house on Elk Corner close to Calawah river. And they were two, a boy and a girl. Twins. She'd clammed up then with a smirk that screamed she knew more but she was not going to tell them until they were begging for it.
"I guess we'll see them tomorrow, Cathy. You don't have to tell us everything," Lorraine said snarkily.
Cathy's green eyes flashed but she wasn't going to provoke Lorraine.
The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day but the rain continued heavily. The school was washed with different versions of stories about the new kids, each more outlandish than the last.
"They look like the Cullen kids," one chubby boy, Maurice, in her spanish class whispered to Lorraine when the teacher's back was turned to the class. "You know — pale and stuff. Do you think they are related?"
Lorraine sighed wearily, rolling her eyes. "People with albinism exist, Maurice, and they aren't related."
Maurice refused to let it go. "Why do they keep coming here then?" he asked, his tone was belligerent.
"Because there is hardly any sun here."
Maurice lapsed into sulking but when Vesta saw him after class, he was muttering rapidly to a tall, thin boy with braces and eyeliner. They walked past Lorraine and her, totally oblivious to their presence. Lorraine frowned in disgust.
"Was the gossip this fierce when I was the new kid?" Vesta asked, curious.
"Of course. The boys were more concerned if you would be as pretty as Isabella Swan. They really lost their minds when she came. A lot of boys got heartbroken when she and Edward Cullen started dating. I don't think Mike Newton ever got over it. You know" — her voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper — "the reason they aren't swarming you is because of Benedict. But I'm sure they'll be making their move now."
Vesta was startled. "Why?"
Lorraine made her aware of another event looking on the horizon — the girl's choice spring dance in two weeks.
"Everyone is lining up, waiting to ask. Not everyone. But most."
"Oh," Vesta said. "Who are you planning to ask?"
"Benedict," she said airily but her eyes were hesitant, as if she's asking Vesta for permission. "If he wants to go. Or maybe Nate."
Vesta's heart lurched at his name but she tried to appear unaffected. "Great. They'll be lucky to have you ask them."
"I know," Lorraine beamed.
Lorraine's prediction that the boys were just waiting came to pass when Vesta was ambling towards Gym and Josh waylaid her, following her on the pretext of escort.
"So. Uh, I was just wondering … if you would go to the spring dance with me?"
Vesta was again startled by the suddenness of it all. "I thought it was girls' choice," she said.
"Well, yeah," he admitted. "But I thought maybe …" he trailed off, red in the face.
Vesta tried to make her smile warm. "Thank you for asking me, Josh. But I'm going to have to say no."
Josh looked at his feet. "Are you asking Benedict?" he asked in a small voice.
Again, the painful lurch of her heart. "What? No. Lorraine is asking him."
Hope bloomed in his face. "Then?"
"No, Josh," Vesta said firmly. "I don't think I'm going to the dance at all."
Josh was downcast but he shook it again quickly. "Well, there's prom. See you later, Vesta."
He ran off, leaving Vesta confused. She turned towards Gym and saw Benedict standing yards away from her, hands in his pockets. He was looking at her.
The beginning of a hopeful smile lit up her expression and she raised her hand in a wave.
Benedict turned, ignoring her.
Vesta dragged herself into Gym, trying not to cry.
Three more boys flooded her with requests on her way to the parking lot and each got a firm "no" from her but they didn't seem deterred. But Vesta wasn't the only one getting suitors, Lorraine was literally besieged by a tiny mob of boys — one or two from the senior year. She was popular, almost as popular as Benedict.
Martin, from Jen's French class, was following Jen around with a lovestruck expression on his face, chatting about nonsense and waiting for her to ask him. Lorraine whispered to Vesta that Jen had already made plans with Justin.
Jen was disgruntled when she finally escaped Martin and made it over to Lorraine. They were going over to Lorraine's house to watch movies and go over homework together. Lorraine asked if Vesta was interested but she hadn't told Charlie she'd be coming back late so she had to decline.
The next day, Lorraine was bright-eyed and there was a little bounce to her step. She hooked her arm around Vesta's as soon as she was out of the truck.
"I asked Nate," she said with a little giggle. "He said yes."
What about Benedict? Vesta wanted to ask.
"Benedict is going to his mom's place that weekend."
His mom? She really didn't know anything about Benedict and she might not get to, if things continue as they were.
Lorraine and her parted ways and she went into her first class, English. Benedict was there — Vesta had seen his car in the lot — with the same cold, remote look on his face whenever he saw her. She worried her sleeves, wondering how to begin and if it was better to not say anything. She wasn't sure if she could hear him looking at her that way.
"Hello," she said, getting into her seat next to him. At his perfunctory nod, she didn't stop. "So, the new students, we might see them today. Unveil the mystery."
"I guess."
She fumbled for something else to say. "Lorraine told me she asked you to the spring dance and you said no —" at his silence she continued — "she said you are going to see your mom that weekend. You live apart from your mom?" Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. But she couldn't stop now, she was on a roll. "I'm not going either. At least I don't think I will. I said no to the people that asked though. Josh seemed crush and —"
"Vesta?" His voice was unbelievably soft.
Vesta fell silent and looked at him. His face was devastating. The cold, unreadable mask was gone and he just looked confused and exhausted.
"Are you speaking to me again?"
"No, not really. I mean Yes. Yes I am speaking to you. I am speaking to you, right now."
Benedict closed his eyes as though in physical pain and inhaled slowly through his nose.
"What do you want, Vesta?" His eyes were still closed, his face slightly turned from hers, like he couldn't bear to look at her.
Vesta tore a hole through her sleeve with all the pulling. Her skin felt cold and clammy as the darkness poured forth. I want you to talk to me. I miss talking to you. "I don't know," she choked out. "I'm sorry. I thought it'd be better that way."
"What would be better?" There was an edge to his tone.
"If we weren't close … if we weren't friends. I didn't want to hurt you. That wasn't my intention."
"I don't know what you mean," he said bitingly.
Mr. Mason came in then, before Vesta could think of a response. The lecture was on Faulkner, something she'd already studied to give her time before she had to sit in the chair. It was hard to pay attention and she couldn't stop herself from peeking occasionally through the corner of her eyes.
During the whole class, Benedict sat still in his chair, his expression shuttered. He never once looked at her. And the moment the bell rang, he was out of his seat. Rising fluidly and grabbing his bag in one smooth motion, he loped gracefully out of the classroom.
The other students scrambled out of their seats, eager to escape except Vesta who was frozen in place, shivering from the pain she was trying to contain. It broke over her in wave after wave, climbing in intensity with each. Her chest constricted, making it almost impossible to breathe and whatever little she had was coming in short tight gasps. Her vision was growing black, tendrils of darkness swirling around the light, blocking everyone from view. Her heart was jackhammering beneath her palm, she feared it might burst from her chest. Her head reeled. Something wet was crawling down her cheeks. Her ears were ringing in a high-pitched way, distorting the noise about her, making them appear far away.
Vesta tried to get out of her seat but her knees buckled like wet noodles beneath her. The room was spinning. She fell, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, sideways, crashing into the other desks.
She heard someone calling her name and then something warm — too warm — was holding her, preventing her from falling to the floor. The simple touch made her recoil, fighting against the grip.
"No! No! Let me go. Let me go! Dad! Help!" her voice was a plaintive wail.
"Shhhh!" a familiar voice whispered. "It's me. It's me." Benedict began crooning a soft song … in terribly accented spanish.
Vesta felt a hysterical giggle rising but she wasn't certain if she ever did giggle, she fell into the darkness, Benedict's warm voice accompanying her, burning away the cold.
She woke in the infirmary on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress of the only cot. The grandmotherly nurse was peering down at her.
"How do you feel, dear?"
"Struck by lightning," she murmured with a delirious grin.
The nurse was startled. She glanced back … at Benedict who was standing against the mint green walls. "Did she hit her head?"
Benedict shook his head. "No, ma'am. I caught her before she hit the floor. I think she's just a little faint."
The frenzied excitement she felt upon waking was fast fading. Red spots bloomed blotchy on her ashened cheeks. She sat up, a little ringing in her ears but the tightness was gone — just a mild soreness in her chest — and no spinning.
"I'm fine," she mumbled. "Just a bit tired," she smiled reassuringly at the nurse who nodded but her hands were gently feeling her forehead for a temperature.
"Do you feel dizzy? Headache? Pain? Does this happen a lot?"
Vesta tried to make her voice sound casual. "Just once or twice." And there was no pain, just exhaustion.
"Just lie down for a minute, honey; I'll go get you some ice for your forehead," she said and then bustled out of the room.
Vesta didn't lie down. She finally looked at Benedict who was looking down his nose at her, his black eyes glittering. "How long was I out?"
"About twenty minutes. You were burning so hot that you melted the first cold compress. Then you were fine. Just shuddering a bit and looking green." His voice was low and emotionless, as if he was reciting a grocery list.
"Oh!" Vesta pushed herself to her feet. The room swayed — and Benedict was there, catching her and steadying her. She hadn't even seen him move.
"Flash," she teased with a crooked smile.
Heat flashed in Benedict's eyes as a flurry of emotions went over his face : anger; pain; confusion.
Vesta sobered up. "I'm sorry," she said contritely.
He ignored her statement. "I think you should lie down. You might be pushing it."
"I have to get back to class," she protested weakly.
"I think class can wait." He picked her off her feet easily and gently placed her on the bed.
The nurse came in with the cold compress and laid it across her forehead.
"I think you can go back to class now," she said to Benedict.
"I'm supposed to stay with her," Benedict said with a quiet authority.
Vesta didn't hear anymore because then her eyes were fluttering close.
When she woke again, Benedict was still standing against the wall, his expression guarded.
"Wouldn't you get in trouble if you miss class?" Her voice sounded weak, even to her.
He shrugged. "Mrs. Goff wouldn't mind. How do you feel?"
"I don't know." The pain had retreated with the darkness that's for sure but the emptiness it left behind was curiously different. It seemed expectant. Her body still felt weak, though.
He nodded as though it made sense and pushed himself off the wall. "Just a moment." He walked out of the office.
He returned a few moments later with her bookbag and the nurse in tow. Vesta sat up and handed the compress to her.
"Ms. Cope has excused you from the rest of your classes. I'll be taking you home. Do you need help standing?"
"No." Vesta hopped quickly down from the cot — too quick. She swayed on unsteady feet.
Benedict held the door open for her, his eyes cool and distant.
"You feel better, Vesta," Ms. Cope called to her. She nodded weakly.
Outside, a cold, fine mist had begun to fall. She walked out into the cold, lifting her face to the fine spray. It felt nice, it made her feel better.
"Thank you," she said as Benedict followed her out.
He said nothing, looking ahead, expressionless. Vesta bit on her lower lip. The empty pit in her yawned, expectant. Was it waiting for her to tumble into it?
The walk to the parking lot was silent apart from the scrape of their shoes on the sidewalk.
Vesta held her hand out for her bag once they got to her truck. "Thank you," she said again.
Benedict said nothing. He fished out her keys from her bag, opened the passenger door, lifted her and gently put her into the seat then reached over to put the seatbelt in place before jogging over to the driver's door — all before Vesta could think of something to say.
"I can go home myself," Vesta protested.
He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls , turning the heater up and pulled out of the parking lot.
"I'm sorry," Vesta said.
She was prepared for the silent treatment but was surprised by the heavy sigh. His mask was broken in place, his jaw ticing.
"What do you want, Vesta? You can't not talk to me. Lie to me. And expect me to be cool with it. You wanted me to leave you and I did. What more do you want?" His tone was edging towards anger.
"I know. It would be better if we weren't friends. I don't want to hurt you."
"Maybe I can take care of myself."
Vesta shook her head. "You don't know what you are up against."
"You could tell me about it. But I guess you won't," he finished before she could respond, his tone a little bitter.
A curious silence passed between them. Hesitant. Vesta pulled at her fingers, her brows pushing together. She has never been so uncertain of what to do or what to say in her entire life. But these past weeks have been tentative — like she was dipping her toes in the water, trying to be sure whether or not to dive in but all she has done was muddy it up. Was it water settling?
"When you woke — what were you saying to Mrs. Hammond? You weren't struck by lightning!"
"Oh! It was from The Hobbit … something Bilbo said when Thorin said they may never return from their adventure. I don't know why I said it, it just seemed appropriate. You are not a fan of it, I guess." Benedict's expression showed no hint of recognition and the barest trace of being interested.
He shrugged. "More of a comic and manga guy," he said in a quiet murmur. "Do you have that a lot? The panic attacks?" he asked after a silent pause.
"Yeah," she answered softly, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.
Benedict was perplexed, a small frown pulling his brows together. "Do you pass out often? Is that normal? I don't think people faint when having a panic attack." He glanced at her and saw Vesta's lips were pursed. He laughed, a lingering trace of bitterness in his mirth. "I guess that's a no-answer territory."
Vesta stuttered. "No. It's … my family, we have … our bodies respond in a different way. My body was trying to calm me down, I think. So it decided to shut down." There was no easy way to put it in words without saying it outright. She could only hope he understood enough not to pursue it. She looked up at him. His expression was speculative.
"You aren't going to the dance?" he finally asked.
Vesta was glad for the change in topic. "No. I think I'll sit it out. Save all my energy for prom. Lorraine said you aren't going either."
"I'm going up to the Rez to spend the weekend with my mum. Do you wanna come with me?" he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.
That was unexpected. Vesta looked at him, stunned.
"You want me to come with you?" she repeated in a breathy bewildered tone.
Benedict was bemused. "Yeah — what I said. It's fine if you don't want to come along, but I thought it'd be better than being alone through the weekend."
A wealth of emotions was blooming inside her. They were warm, blanketing her. Sudden and almost intoxicating. Vesta was dazed, her face as red as a tomato. She had no idea how to respond to his question though. It would make sense to say yes — she had no plans that weekend — yet she was hesitant.
"You don't have to give an answer now. But I could do with a heads-up. My mom likes to cook, she'd be overjoyed to have someone else to cook for."
Vesta was glad for the respite.
Benedict stopped the truck, and she realized they were at Charlie's house already. The rumbling thunder of the car and their conversation had completely distracted from the journey.
"Here we are," he said needlessly.
Vesta didn't want to leave the truck, or him. She was actually frightened by the prospect that they'd lose what they just found and go back to ignoring one another at school tomorrow.
"How are you going to get back to school?" she quizzed, trying to prolong his stay.
"I'll hike."
Do you wanna come in? Vesta wanted to say but she found herself nodding and picking her schoolbag from the car's floor. She got out into the drizzle, slamming the door behind her.
Benedict handed her the key, his fingers grazing hers. They were burning but it felt just right. Vesta stared at it as though something profound had just happened and it was completely mystifying.
"Vesta?"
She looked up, curling her hand and holding it to her chest. "Yeah?" she was coming out from her stupor.
"Before you decide to not talk to me for my own good, give me a heads-up," he said quietly, his face serious.
Vesta flushed from guilt. She nodded in assent.
A faint trace of a smile lightened his face. Vesta felt her face growing heated as she looked him straight in the face.
"I'll see you in school tomorrow," he said with a crooked smile.
"Alright."
He turned and loped elegantly — like a swift footed gazelle — disappearing gracefully and rapidly down the street until he was a speck in the distance. Vesta watched him go breathlessly until she couldn't see him again.
Vesta carried a little sun inside her for the rest of the morning, unbothered by her aloneness. She used her spare time to big out the box she'd left at the bottom of her suitcase. It was roughly the size of a shoebox, wooden and glossy with lacquer. She reverently traced her fingers along it, feeling each bump and notch.
She placed it carefully on the desk — next to the computer —. Vesta wasn't ready to open it but she felt it shouldn't be left in the dark.
She went down to the living room with a blanket to watch TV, flicking through the channels until she decided on Lifetime channel. Vesta made herself a nest on the sofa and settled in to watch. She soon fell into a doze.
A sharp knock on the door roused her. Charlie! was her first thought but he never knocked. She staggered to the front door and opened it.
Lorraine and Jen were standing on the porch.
"Hey guys," Vesta greeted in a voice made soft by sleep. She was a bit taken aback to find them there. "Come in," she invited, taking a step back. She wondered if this would be okay with Charlie. She didn't know what his policy was on having friends over.
Lorraine's eyes were huge with concern. "Are you alright, Vesta? Benedict told us what happened! I was thinking about you all through lunch."
From what Vesta learned from Lorraine after they settled in around the kitchen table was that half the school had seen Benedict carry her unconscious body to the front office but hadn't really known what made her faint. Rumors had been flying around but before Lorraine could come see for herself what had happened, Benedict had driven Vesta home. She had to wait for him to return and had to wait until after school to come.
"I brought chocolate," Jen added in her quiet voice, bringing out two mars bars from her jacket's pocket. "My Gran says chocolate is good for the tired soul."
Vesta accepted them, her heart warm with gratitude.
After Lorraine satisfied herself with making sure Vesta was okay, she filled her in on what she had missed. The new students.
"I think they are albinos but I'm not sure — the girl's hair is almost white but the boy's hair is black … maybe he dyed it —. They looked like the Cullens and Hales did, remember Jen? All pale. Anyway, they are quite rude," Lorraine delivered the last part of her statement with a scowl. "I went up to their table at lunch and they just stared at me. It was really creepy."
"It's a new school. Maybe they were just being defensive." Jen was far more lenient.
Lorraine shook her head, her chin set stubbornly. "Vesta wasn't rude. And what's with the staring? The girl looked like she wanted to eat me!"
"Did they talk to anyone?" Vesta asked, opening the mars bars for a bite.
"I think the boy did."
"His name is Damien," Jen gently reminded her.
"Who cares?" Lorraine demanded, her nose in the air. She must have been thoroughly offended by their impoliteness.
Jen suddenly giggled, her face warm. "Half of the girls at school do. He is hot."
Hotter than Benedict? The thought leapt into her mind.
Lorraine snorted derisively. "Well, he isn't Ricky Martin but I can't see his appeal."
"All of the school can," Jen stated animatedly. "They are both incredibly good-looking. I would have taken a picture of them but I haven't gotten new films for my camera." Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pinked and an overwhelming expression of rapturous delight made her face glow — as though she'd looked into the face of God. "Do you think they'll agree to have photos taken of them? For my scrapbook. I need it for my yearbook class."
Lorraine shrugged. "The boy might." She steered the topic over from the new students to the dance and photoshoot, which reminded Vesta that she would have to either ask Charlie or Mr. Patton for money for a dress or two, for Prom.
Vesta became absorbed with the vision of herself wearing a flowy dress, her hair bobbing as she skipped. Just like old times. She didn't feel heartbroken and a sense of loss when she thought about it this time, it felt like a fresh new possibility for her. She suddenly regretted chopping off her hair. Her mother definitely wouldn't have liked that. A small sad smile curved her mouth, a wave of nostalgic wistfulness sweeping over her.
She might not be able to return to the glades but Forks was a place better than any and she was making friends. Friends she'd decided to stay friends with. She could be able to recapture a fraction of the past!
Charlie returned home when Lorraine and Jen were preparing to leave. He was astonished to see them hovering around the kitchen table, trying to squeeze in the last words before they had to say bye.
To no one's surprise, Charlie knew them and their parents.
"Are you staying for dinner?" Charlie asked.
"No, Chief Swan. We were just about to head home," Lorraine said brightly.
Vesta saw them off and waved until Lorraine's Toyota was out of sight.
When she got back in she asked Charlie if he minded their presence. He was a bit perplexed.
"No, no. It's fine. I'm glad you are making friends."
They ate the pizza Charlie brought home since Sue wasn't around and the casserole she'd kept in the freezer was what they had last night for dinner.
Vesta watched a bit of sport with Charlie in comfortable silence before saying goodnight and heading to the bathroom to get ready for her night.
She studied her hair while brushing her teeth, grimacing at the dull color and split ends. Her hair had grown unevenly to brush the top of her shoulders. She would have to get to a proper saloon to even the ends out. She was glad to see her face no longer looked haunted in the mirror. The dark bruises beneath her eyelids did make her look tired. But she was … happy.
A wave of guilt and shame swept over her when she made that discovery. Its thorny limbs wrapped around her heart and throat. She shouldn't be happy! She should be grieving. Her entire family was murdered … killed off one after the other. Happiness was the last thing she should feel. She shouldn't be creating bonds with people and betraying her family's memory.
Vesta clenched her hands into fists, unconsciously snapping the toothbrush in half. She shook her head, denying the vitriol. Her father wouldn't want her to be miserable. Her mother would want her to find peace. And her cousin Martha had always been eager to make new friends, surely she'd encourage it. No member of her family would want her to be perpetually sad.
She tried to force back the thought, into the darkness where it'd come. She wouldn't let it grow like a cancer in her. It went, disappearing in the darker state of her mind but she knew it would always be at the edge, trying to creep back in to poison the waters.
Breathing heavily, Vesta glanced regretfully at her broken toothbrush. She sighed and rinsed out her mouth.
Freshly showered, she left the bathroom to her bedroom and started heading for the rocking chair when she paused and turned to her bed. She was going to sleep. No matter what. Even when the fear of "the nightmare" clutched on her, she obstinately grinded her teeth. She was going to sleep.
She did.