𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𝐔.

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈|𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"I wait for life to end, but it never comes around.."

"Are you certain you're not.. mad, Nightingale?"
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To be haunted by dreams was something [Name] never thought about. She didn't believe it possible, as repetitive dreams made her.. near delirious.

Every night that she stayed in the Phantomhive household, was another night in which she experienced the same terrifying dream.

It was the same one. With the same woman. The same blurry face of the man she embraced oh so lovingly in that damned illusion.

Every first light, her eyes snapped wide open. The back of her neck was always damp with perspiration, along with her forehead.

Every dawn, she sat up in her bed, pondering—journaling every single thing she could remember of the visions she had for the month.

[Name] felt mad. Every morning she awoke, she would scream in her pillow of frustration from the state of confusion she awoke to—she would rip hair out of her head, claw at her hairline so much that Sebastian had to use a peppermint essential oil to keep her calm—as requested of her.

She wanted answers. She had so many questions. Who was she in the dream? Who was the man in her arms? Why was he crying? Why was he begging for her to not talk of death? Was she a sick woman in the dream? How did she look like? How did he look like?

One thing was certain. She hated the blurry face. Resented it, even.

Only then, she awoke once more from the wretched dream. An unamused, irritated expression forming on her sleep-induced visage as she sat up.

She turned to her window, squinting at the faint light of the sun growing from the horizon beyond the shut curtains. It was just first light. The same time she woke up at every other night.

With a soft groan, she laid back down, throwing her duvet over her head, relishing in the warmth of her breath against her ice cold limbs from the early February air under the cover.

She is to leave in the morning, by the time Ciel wakes up to bid him farewell. She held her eyes closed for one minute. Then two.

Until she heard a knock at her door, which roused her from her short nap. "My lady. It's past breakfast time. The master is concerned of your absence in the dining hall."

She blinked her eyes open, pulling the covers off of her shoulders. It's just Sebastian. She yawned silently, stretching her arms upwards from the power nap she had taken.

With a huff, she stretched her legs until she gained a small tremble in them—stopping before she would earn a cramp.

But she paused. Past breakfast? Oh, dear.

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Now, [Name] truly believed her dreams would cease by the time she left the Phantomhive Estate. Her little slumber in her carriage proved her wrong.

The dream passed by as usual, only in the short amount of time she had from leaving the Phantomhive Earldom and into London.

Where was she going, one might ask. Well, to visit her dear friend, of course. One who might have answers to this.. never-ending nightmare.

Once the carriage came to a stop, the horses neighed ever so softly in early afternoon light—while [Name] merely looked down at her gloved hands.

With a deep breath, she stepped out of the carriage, "Return in an hour," She informed her coachman, looking up at the sign with an expression that could only mean.. gentle exasperation.