Lady of the Night

Chapter Four

☾

FOR THE SECOND TIME NOW I've slept peacefully, I'm worried I've succumbed to some spell. Surely, my luck cannot be soaring so high that I've managed to score a safe place to live as well as being able to capture a peaceful night's sleep. On a more dreary thought, I must be dreaming because that seems impossible.

"Emmy." A finger jabs painfully in my side, dishevelling my comfort.

I stir slightly, yielding to fatigue's crippling allure. However, whoever is trying to wake me up persists with a vengeance. My side shudders as I get poked again, even more harshly than before.

"Emmy. Emmy. Emmy. Emmy. Emmy —"

With a strangled groan, I peel open my eyes and shoot upwards. "What — OH MY GOD." There's no time to react, no time to process what's happening through my fatigue powered mind. When I see myself looking at me from beside my bed, I react in the most normal, instinctive way possible — I punch me in the face.

The second me goes jetting back onto the floor, quickly pursued by a painful scream. I stumble upwards just as the person who looks exactly like me starts to shake and its skin morphs and expands, changing quickly before my eyes.

And there, Bash lies with his hand cradling his nose. "Emmy, that hurt," he whines.

Across the room, Helena starts snickering, pouring with amusement as Bash curls up on the ground. Her dark eyes close as she can't seem to restrain herself. It's a strange sight to see — my roommate laughing. From what I've seen, she's not the type to be nice on purpose. But neither is she the type to be purposefully mean.

"Of course it did!" I exclaim, all remnants of sleep shred away. "Maybe you wouldn't have got punched if you hadn't woke me up by ... being me."

"I thought it was funny!"

"Well now your face looks funny!"

"Alright," Dylan pushes from the door and strides to Bash. His silky dark brown hair dips like spilled ink into amused crystal blue eyes as he bends to haul up his friend. "She's got a point you know."

Bash pats his nose. "About what?"

"About you getting punched. You asked for it." Dylan slaps Bash's chest almost apologetically, his lips rolling into a thin line with tight amusement.

Grumbling, Bash sits down on Helena's bed. I ignore him for the moment and start shuffling into the clothes Helena gave me — after ordering everyone to look away, of course. Since I have no clothes after my trip to the Academy being quite hasty, I'm having to borrow from Helena (who is quite lean compared to me – it's a tight squeeze). She doesn't seem to mind, her closet is practically bursting with clothes. None of which she wears — I swear she's wearing the same shirt as yesterday.

"I'm sorry, Bash," I apologise. "First thing you need to know about me? I'm not a morning person."

"Preach," Helena interrupts, giving me a nod of understanding.

"So you hit me because you hate waking up?" Bash's face twists, perplexed.

I stomp over to him and thump him on the head. "I hit you because you almost gave me a heart attack," I tell him, trying to seem serious. "Next time I won't aim for your face."

The atmosphere flattens as everyone but Bash realises the meaning behind my words. Helena flashes an interested smirk and Dylan shakes his head, staring at me with a grin.

Bash looks just as confused. "Wait, where —"

Dylan jolts up and with an infectious grin, offering me his arm. "Are you ready for breakfast, m'lady?"