The End of Eden

XXXVI

A week after my night spent in the courtyard, I feel like I have had enough time to recover. Though I still feel like I am severely lacking in energy, I find I can't let myself laze about anymore. My skin feels like my skeleton is trying to burst free of it, and I feel anxious, and I could only imagine why.

I assure myself Four is still alive every time I see him by pressing my fingertips against the throb of his pulse in his wrist or his neck, or by leaning my cheek on his chest, just to hear the drum of his strong heart. The others stay near me more as well, treating me as if I am a delicate lamb, and I am rarely left alone now. It makes it difficult to speak with Sleep if I wanted to, which I do not.

But that does not stop him from speaking to me.

I see him while the others do not, or at least claim so. He stalks me, always, waking and not waking. And when I dream, whether at night or during the day, he shows me the same dream, over and over again, every single time I close my eyes and let my mind drift. I dream of Four burning alive, the cuts on his face, and the way I slid into the pit, either to burn with him, or dig through the ashes, or just fall through the pit into darkness. He always stares at me, reminding me that he has all the power, and that he is always with me, and watching me. And he is almost daring me to disobey him again. He waits, he watches, always around me, always a shadow over me.

I dare not disobey him again.

I even attempt to tell myself that I am okay, that he only wants to be near me as I am his, that this is normal.

Eventually, I convince myself it is normal.

Each time I wake, I feel barely more rested than I did when I closed my eyes. Someday, I will finally rest enough where I won't feel tired.

Someday.

When I am alone with Four, I whisper to him of what I see, my eyes closed so I can see his face without pulling his mask from him. I still don't share with anyone else what has caused Sleep to punish me in such a way, and neither does Four; this secret still remains between us, though we dare not attempt it again, due to my begging him to not let me take his mask off, or to take it off himself in front of me.

I do not speak of my dreams, or what I see, openly to anyone else, unless they ask, and they all ask me, in one way or another.

"What do you see?" Three asks me one evening, as I make an attempt to sketch him out. I only end up drawing Sleeps face, his jaw ripped off and missing, leaving the lower part of his face bloody and jagged. I snap the pad of paper to my chest, and look at Three, and Sleep just beyond him, in the corner of the room.

You pique my ire with that. Shall I remind you what I am capable of doing?

"I see you," I say, and I rip that page from the pad, fold it up and tuck it into the pocket of the leggings I wear. When I have a chance, I slide it between my mattress and bed frame in my room, and forget about it.

"Is he with us?" Two asks later on, as we sit during a hot summer afternoon by the lake. I haven't yet attempted to swim in it again; I only dip my toes into it as I lean into him, Four leaning on his hands, his eyes closed to the sunlight. The light makes both of their faces much more visible through their masks, and I shut my eyes to it.

"He is always with us," I answer, though this time, it is truthful; Sleep remains by my side, always, unless I beg him to leave me be in my mind, and only then, do I get a reprieve from his presence.

To always watch you. I wait for you to make an offering in my name.

"What did you dream about?" Vessel asks one morning, as I lay in his bed. I close my eyes and turn my face away from him.