Were it not that I have Bad Dreams
The world is blue and ripples around her. Everything she touches, everywhere she steps, that blue light spreads. And yet, she is powerless to move, to run, to scream. Powerless. Time has stopped within a jar, and she is the moth trapped inside of it.
Now the red light appears. At first in flashes, but she knows deep down that soon it will take a definite form - she has not yet seen what it might be and she fears it.
It is everywhere, everything. And it will not let her leave.
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Odelia Black awoke with a start, frantically kicking the twisted bedclothes away from her as though they were on fire. Not that the flames which haunted her dreams ever burnt - she’d felt them suffocate her enough times now to know that they would never leave a mark on her skin. The room was still dark, but as she slowed her breathing and blinked, it came into focus. Wrought iron bed posts stuck out of the darkness, and beyond that, the mirror on the mahogany vanity reflected the image of a girl with large dark eyes ringed with the grey tint of sleeplessness. Odelia turned away, burying her face in her pillow. She was awake. She was fine.
Time was beginning to blur - it had been perhaps just over a fortnight since they brought her here, but as she had refused to allow the curtains to be opened, the days and nights were melting into one endless cycle from which only sleep could break her free. But this was not an option, not when she knew what was waiting for her. So really the only thing to do was to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, praying that no one would try to disturb her.
Why can’t everyone just leave me be? I would be fine on my own! Why can’t they all forget I exist, and let me stay up here forever?
A hesitant knock at the door broke the silence.
So it’s a mealtime then? Good to know. Perhaps I should ask for a clock? No - that would spoil the mystery.
“Miss Delly?” Crawly, the Black Family house-elf poked his pointed nose around the door. “Would Miss Delly like some dinner? We made cottage pie - Mistress’ favourite!”
Miss Delly would like you to stop asking.
“No thank you Crawly,” Odelia replied tonelessly. He bowed low, his drooping ears almost brushing the floor, and backed carefully out of the room. Yes, cottage pie had once been her favourite, but that was almost ten years ago when he had last seen her. She might have felt badly, disappointing the old house-elf who tried every day something new to make her smile. But recently, she had forgotten how to feel anything at all.
Sitting alone in a room at the very top of the house was proving to be rather dull, using her pulse to count the ticks of time. But she did not want to go back out into the world. And historically, no one had ever had much luck at persuading Odelia to do something that she did not want to do.
Hang on. What was that?
Three flights of stairs below her, the heavy front door had shut with a bang. A low murmur of many overlapping voices could be heard, buzzing through the usually still air.
Don’t do it. You don’t deserve excitement. You don’t deserve anything anymore.
Odelia lay still.
Then again, what does it matter? Why not? Let’s do it.
She swung her legs out of bed onto the floor, and sat up. Her thin nightgown hung just above her bare feet, and they padded silently across the creaking floorboards and stepped over the threshold into the hallway. It was darker here, and unfamiliar shapes loomed out of the gloom, but a faint light came from the stairwell, so she headed towards it. The house was curiously designed so that the steep and narrow stairs were the central feature, and from them you could see all the way from the top floor to the bottom. It was for that reason that Odelia now kneeled in front of the wooden bannisters, wrapping her hands around them and pressing her face between one of the gaps. The gas lamps lit the entranceway just enough for her to see about a dozen or so cloaked figures packed together, as if they had all arrived in rather a hurry. This was strange - from what she remembered of her grandmother, to whom this house belonged, she seldom had visitors and as a rule disliked other people. So why were they here?
A few of the people hung up their outerwear onto the coat racks that lined the hall, and were beginning to file into the drawing room. Crawly had opened the door for them, and now scurried around, relieving the visitors of their hats and gloves. Odelia squinted, trying to discern any recognisable features from among them, but by now they had all moved into the next room presumably to where her grandmother awaited them.
That is, all but one. He walked with a limp, and his movements were strong but precise. He was turned away from her, and seemed to be fiddling with something in his gloved hand. Now that the rest of the guests had disappeared, that murmur which had accompanied them had also gone. It was so quiet. Odelia suddenly became very aware of her presence in the situation - no longer was she a silent observer, but a player in a more intimate scene. As if he could sense her thoughts, the man looked up.
Oh. Oh no.
A severe face was framed by shoulder-length black hair, with a long scar running down one side of it. His eyebrows were furrowed, and the eyes beneath them were fixed intently upon hers. She dared not breathe.
Why isn’t he looking away?
Her lips had parted, and her mouth was beginning to feel dry.
Good - I don’t want him to.
A heartbeat passed, or perhaps two.
“Sharp!” The discordant voice of her uncle broke through the moment, like shattering a mirror. The man looked away. “Come on then, we’re all waiting for you!”
“Coming, Phineas.”
And that was that. He limped slowly through the door, shutting it behind him as he went. At last, Odelia managed a shaky breath and turned to lean against the bannisters, drawing her knees into her chest. What had just happened? That man - Sharp - who was he? In fact, who were all of those people? Again, what were they doing here? She rested her head on her knees, the familiar tiredness was beginning to creep back in.
It doesn’t matter. Go to your room.
Odelia didn’t have the energy to argue.
Okay.
So she got up, slowly, carefully, and went back the way she came. And before she even had the chance to think twice, to check her actions and stop herself, the covers were drawn around her and she fell down into a deep sleep.