Sleep Magazine (Completed)

The Morning: 1

Celia awoke and, before she could open her eyes, instantly thought of all the math homework she needed to do that day. She shuffled farther down under her comforter and forced herself to think about AJ for another minute before she would finally surrender to the morning. 

Her half-conscious mind suddenly flooded with images of him that she had not imagined before, and she sat straight up, now feeling very much awake.

She looked down at her body, wrapped in her fleece jacket, and then at her space heater, the orange switch at the top glowing to indicate that it was on. There was a soft indent in the mattress next to her and she looked at it for a few moments before running her palm over it hesitantly. The sheets felt warm against her hand and she turned to the window expectantly, unsure why she had the sudden inclination that someone might appear outside of it. If it were not for the slight shiver of cold air that blew across her neck, she would not have realized that it was open, just the smallest sliver of space visible between the sash and the frame. 

Feeling a bout of nausea coming on, Celia leaned back against her pillow and made her best effort to choke down the urge to vomit until she could get herself out of bed. She eyed the strange water bottle on her bedside table and reached for it, stretching her arm uncomfortably to avoid jolting her body. 

"Such a goody-goody," she whispered to herself before twisting off the cap.

Grace stood by the toaster oven and looked at Ava, visibly irritated that her younger sister was about to cry.

"Ava, what?" She crossed her arms in frustration and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"Last night—" Ava spoke out slowly, then paused. Tears gathered along her thick lower lash line, still smudged with eyeliner from the night before, a dark green color that made her light eyes sparkle and deepen at the same time.

As Grace burned an impatient stare into her sister's eyes, she noticed the definition of her irises. The kaleidoscope of greens and grays swirled behind a transparent film of moisture that waited to overflow. It reminded Grace, for just a moment, of running through a forest; thick, dark brown lashes like branches reaching out from a lush green tree line, threatening to catch or trip her. 

Her impatience turned to uneasiness when she broke from her brief vision of Ava's eyes and registered the pained expression in them. She stood frozen, waiting for Ava to continue.

A single tear rolled over Ava's lash line and down the side of her nose as her voice, lowered and soft, adopted the slightest shake.

"I had the most horrible dream..."

Grace's face dropped just before she heard Celia descending the stairs. She turned back to face the toaster oven as Ava hurriedly wiped more tears from her cheeks with her fingertips.

"Good morning, sleepy head," Ava greeted Celia in the cheeriest tone she could muster without letting her voice crack.

Celia only glanced at her younger sister as she walked by her toward the refrigerator. She knew from the second she entered the kitchen that Ava had been crying and that Grace had probably been making it worse.

"What are you crying about?" she asked plainly as she opened the refrigerator door. Though her body language was apathetic, a touch of concern laced Celia's voice. When no one responded to her question, she looked over her shoulder at Ava.

"I don't know," Ava lied. She could not maintain the strength to keep her voice from cracking this time.

Out of her peripheral vision, Celia saw Grace look at her and chose to ignore her. She had not yet decided how she should look at Grace today and did not trust herself to improvise.

"Why is there blood on your face?" she asked Ava quietly so that Grace would know she did not care to include her.

The toaster oven dinged. Grace aggressively poked her bagel with a knife and dropped it onto a plate loudly.

"She has blood on her face because she's completely out of control." Grace spoke the way a mother would, as if she really wanted to yell but decided to speak scornfully instead. Her attempt to sound mature did little to mask her artificial calmness.

Celia watched tears flood down Ava's face as a raging heat began to build in her chest. She tore a handful of paper towels off the roll and wetted them under the sink. As she listened to Grace's dramatic retelling of the events of Ava's evening, Celia focused on wiping the crusted specks of blood from Ava's hairline and behind the top of her right ear. She tried to keep her touch as gentle as she could despite the effects of the adrenaline charging steadily in her body with every inflection of Grace's voice. 

Celia tore off a smaller piece of paper towel before tossing the bulk of them, tinged pink and copper, onto the counter, gingerly wiping at the blood-coated gold studs in Ava's second and third holes. Every few seconds, she shifted her eyes to quickly scan her younger sister's face; though Ava had stopped crying, her eyes remained swollen and red as she batted her lashes together quickly and stared straight ahead.