-Currently untitled and not fit to read-

   Prolouge

Sometimes she'd would wake to a cats fur nestled against her cheek, a cold nose ghosting across her jaw. Other times she'd wake to her head cradled in a old woman's lap, soft wrinkled hands stroking her fair, sleep tussled hair softly. Other nights still, she'd wake pressed to a thin boy's beating chest. His warm and somehow frigid fingers tracing patterns over her cheeks, her neck, her still closed eyes, sometimes even going as far as to trace her lips with something close to worship.

And each and every time she'd lie still, keeping her breathing even while struggling keeping her eyes shut tight. Hoping tonight would be the night they would stay. Stay with her, at least until morning when the sun came up and the shouting began and it became hard to tell why she was still in that house, listening for the apologies that never came.

    But each and every time, she'd feel the nosehandsfingers stop what they were doing, feel the familiar catwomanboy crawl away from her, taking their cold heat with them. And when she would finally open her eyes to look, to finally see the fur and hair and skin. There would be nothing there. Only the tree outside her still latched window waving it's greenredgone leaves. As though to tease her with it's always watching presence, not needing eyes to see something she could not.

     And she'd only sigh, a quiet little noise barely heard in the stillness of her room. And whisper once again, "Come back.."