one cw: mention of disassociation; nightmares; emeteo mention, but no actual throwing up; disturbing visuals of being bound, inability to move, non-consensual touching

[ She can't recall the last time she slept well. More often than not, she doesn't sleep much at all — the circles under her eyes darkening by the day. Instead, she finds herself turned over, away from the eyes of the others who live within the Hall — staring into nothing, somewhere far off within herself, tears dribbling over her nose and into her hair. But she does sleep eventually, when she exhaustion becomes too much and she'll shift into something quiet and deep for a while.

It's as if everything's underwater. Dark and terrible, but the light hurts her eyes and she can't seem to bring anything into focus. She feels sick and dizzy, like she might throw up but nothing comes and she's just lost to the sea of nausea, rolling with wave after wave. There's a voice, a man's — calm and gentle but... it doesn't feel safe. It doesn't reassure her, doesn't soothe her.

She can't move. Light and dark blur before her. The sharp flash of light: too harsh, too much. There's a soft sound that filters through the dream, a gentle whimper. The flashes burn into her, and she wants to turn away from them, but she can't. She feels no control over her body, her limbs won't move, her hands feel stuck. Her wrists feel tight, as if they've been smothered in super glue, and the skin might tear. And she can only stare blankly — she doesn't want this, she doesn't want this.

Hands reach for her, manipulate her. Her head shifts, a leg. Moves what she cannot. The nausea rolls within her once more and through the buzz of it, she thinks no, please don't. More flashes, the frequency growing in intensity — it hurts.

She wakes with a strangled noise, startling in the darkness. Her hands clamp over her mouth as she sits up and then curls forwards into herself — lights dancing in her eyes. ]

two

[ Some nights, she'll awake more quietly — with nothing more than a quiet inhale and her stomach curling with anxiousness. She'll lie awake, listening to the sleep-sounds around her, and her skin crawls with the images in her mind. She feels gross, and she wants to scream but she clamps her jaw tightly shut — tears in her eyes. The night outside seems calm, and she'll rise from her cot — dressing quickly and quietly. She does her best not to disturb the others, carrying her boots and an unlit flashlight until she's out into the entranceway of the Hall. It's only then she'll ready herself and step out into the dark.

There's a soft hush over the town. The night is still. The sky is void of light from the Aurora, but filled with countless stars — far brighter than she's ever seen them before. The air is quiet, the wolves seem to be sleeping. She stares upwards for a long moment. It's... beautiful, even if the cold is bitter. For a long time she just stands there, trying to shake off the dream and the crawling feeling that weighs on her. Or she might eventually start to walk — keeping close to the Hall but wandering the streets. No one should be around, she thinks. Not at this time of night.

But she's wrong, and she startles, shifting her flashlight with speed. ]

Who's there—?