When The Sky Bleeds ✔️

Chapter 1

The abrupt creak of the door roused me from my nightmare, pulling me from its clutches. I sat up in bed, my heart thumping wildly. Faint light seeped in from the hallway, casting eerie shadows across my shared bedroom. I watched as my sister, Faith, stood in the doorway, her attempts at closing it gently proving futile. With a sigh of relief, I collapsed back onto the thin mattress, eliciting a familiar chorus of protests from the old bedsprings.

"Did I wake you?" Faith whispered tersely as she wasted no time discarding her typical party attire - a cropped top and jeans.

"Yes, but it was much needed," I begrudgingly confessed, rubbing my eyes until spots danced across my vision.

Sitting at the edge of my bed, Faith dressed herself in her pajamas before questioning, "Did you have the same nightmare again?"

"Yeah," I frowned, wrinkling my nose at the scent that emanated from her. "Looks like someone's been partying," I commented, more of a statement than a question. She chuckled in response.

"How do you always manage to slip away without getting caught?" I wondered aloud. She swatted my leg with her hand.

"I will teach you my tricks if you ever come with me."

My lips curved into a smile. "I'd rather spend my nights wrestling with nightmares than dancing with drunk morons."

Faith was the talk of our high school, known for her vivaciousness and magnetic personality. Her long, blonde hair and alluring smile drew people towards her effortlessly, like a moth to a flame. At 16, she epitomized the carefree and rebellious spirit I often envied. But as much as I admired her, I cringed at the image of what our father would do if he ever found out about the boys she talked to and the wild parties she attended.

"Socializing may help you," she remarked, raising a delicate eyebrow in my direction.

Perhaps her suggestion was valid. Attending events for my age bracket could potentially get me out of my head. I had exhausted all efforts to fend off the relentless nightmares. The constant fatigue from sleepless nights only intensified the torment of demonic activity that plagued me every day. It was a never-ending battle, draining me mentally and physically as I fought against unseen forces in my mind. Even if I desired to socialize and attend parties, there was no guarantee that I wouldn't experience disturbing hallucinations while under the influence. Thus, I concluded that enduring nightmares was a better option than risking public displays of insanity.

"I suppose that's how one can tell we're not truly blood," I remarked, regret already consuming me for the words.

Silence filled the room as Faith tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

It was painfully obvious that I didn't belong in the Greywood family. My dark brunette hair bordered on black, and my green eyes starkly contrasted Faith's warm, freckled skin and large brown orbs. I had been adopted at the age of four, with only fragmented memories of my biological parents, who were consumed by their addiction to drugs. Even then, I knew enough about them to understand they couldn't love a child more than their next high. A year after Faith was born, our mother's battle with ovarian cancer changed everything. After enduring grueling treatments, she was told that she could never have children. The void left by this news drove the Greywoods to adopt a child- someone Faith could grow up with. And so, I became their "daughter," taking on the role of big sister to two-year-old Faith. I often wondered if I was just a replacement for the child they couldn't have. But even as I questioned my place in this family, I couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of love and belonging that my mother gave me. It was bittersweet, and it tore at my heart every day, reminding me of just how precarious and fragile our family dynamic truly was.