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001.
A BRIGHT FLASH of green and Esme Goodwin was awake, shooting upwards on the bed as sweat dribbled down her neck. For a moment, it felt as if she couldn't breathe. Her horrified gulps of air were not reaching her lungs properly, and it took several attempts to finally feel the satisfaction of having breath in her chest. Her eyes were wide during the entire scare, but they were completely unseeing, focused only on regaining her composure. Now, however, they were drifting across her surroundings, seeing them for the first time since she fell asleep.
She was in her bedroom, of course. Her desk was right next to her bed underneath the window and her wardrobe was opposite of that, beside the door. She had various posters hanging up of different musical artists she enjoyed, as well as some muggle movies and television shows. Along her bedside table, and atop the wooden wardrobe, were moving photographs of her and her friends from her school – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One of the pictures contained Esme and her best friend Amara Jordan, smiling happily at the camera and hugging one another so tightly they had begun to fall. A different one showcased Esme and Andrew Sawyer, who was blonde and tall and vaguely frustrating – but her close friend all the same. All in all, the room was a normal fifteen year old girl's room – Aside from the fact that Esme was a fifteen year old witch, and she had just woken up from a debilitating nightmare.
A soft knock on the door beside her bed startled her out of her thoughts, and Esme looked up, catching her mother's face in the doorway. Felicity Goodwin hesitated, as though unsure of what her daughter might say if she wandered into her sanctuary of a room, but the tired-looking woman deemed it appropriate when she caught the look of terror on the younger girl's face. "...Es?"
Esme could do nothing but shiver slightly, loosening her white-knuckled grip on the sheets surrounding her figure. "I'm fine," she managed to croak, pointedly glancing away from her mother and onto a spot on the floor – she was vaguely certain the stain came from when Amara and her had tried to paint their nails the way muggles did, with physical polish.
Felicity pulled back a little. "Alright, if you're sure." She paused, as if waiting for an objection, then straightened her spine and resumed the air of utmost professionalism that she so diligently mastered ever since Esme was born. Well, as it so seemed to Esme. Instead of comforting the girl, her mother liked to simply pretend there was nothing wrong. In the face of the current circumstances, including what had happened the previous school term, it was very bothersome for Esme. "They're ready for you. Just sent me the 'go ahead.'"
"Right." A deep feeling of utter dejection tore at Esme's gut, rendering her unable to think of anything but her frustrations about what day it was and who, exactly, was ready for her. For some reason, her anger at the situation only backfired onto her mum, who, in Esme's opinion, wasn't doing enough to help her only daughter.
