"Hey, look over there!" Someone pointed towards the sky. An object hurtled towards the earth, streaking across the upper atmosphere in a great blaze that looked like sunset had come far too early. From somewhere beyond them, they could hear a crash, the sound reverberating in her rib cage.
The ground beneath them began to open up, swallowing entire buildings in its jaw, the sound of terrible screams echoing in her ears like a banshee's scream.
Her Mother's hand slipped from her own, her Mother falling to her knees with hands clasped above her head. The child looked at her feet, where blood ran red against the chalky gray sidewalk.
"I don't want to die," she whispered before being crushed.
Cressida bolted upright in bed, grasping at her chest. She looked around the room, frantic and disoriented, before recalling where she was. These nightmares came in various shades of terror every night, vicariously living the death of some other child, some millennia ago. Sometimes it was via drowning and large wave would come and swallow her whole, it was why Cressida was afraid of the lake.
Other times it was being crushed by a toppling skyscraper, or the earth opening up beneath her feet. None of it was real, but the pain she felt dying was. The child lay back down, curling up on her side, the blanket having been kicked off of the bed from her tossing and turning. There were bags beneath her eyes, standing out against her pale skin.
Maybe once she left this place, the nightmares would not follow.
Mustering up her courage, Cressida rose slowly. Outside, a morning drizzle had rolled in, watering the glass castle these children lived in.
Her feet touched the floor, the wood cold against her bare toes. Cressida shuffled to the bathroom, the house still quiet. She walked through the doorway, stiffening when she realized someone else was in there.
"Oh, good morning." Mavise smiled, her cheeks tinged pink from having spent the night with a fever. Cressida took a step back, uncertain. "Your hair is in knots. Come here, let me fix it." Mavise reached forward, taking Cressida by the wrist and leading her to a seat. Cressida looked at her feet, stiff with anxiety. "Don't worry, I'll try to be gentle." Mavise promised. Cressida nodded silently.
"Your hair is getting pretty long," Mavise commented after a minute of brushing. "Do you want me to cut it?"
"N-no," Cressida stuttered nervously, wondering if Mavise would cut it anyway. "Alright," she pulled Cressida's hair back, tying it up into two pigtails on either side of her head. "There, look how cute you are now that everyone can see your face." Mavise smiled, pushing one of the hand-held mirrors into Cressida's hands so that she could see her reflection.
Cute? No, Cressida was not cute. She stared at herself, her eyes blank, her skin pale. "You have such nice skin, like porcelain. Ah, I'm so jealous," Mavise smiled, stroking one of Cressida's cheeks. Cressida rose suddenly, stepping back. "What's wrong? Don't you like it?" Mavise asked, confused.
Cressida backed towards the wall, uncertain what to do. Seeing herself, her reflection, it always made her head feel fuzzy. "Th-thank you," she whispered, pushing past Mavise to walk away quickly. Her throat felt dry, Cressida swallowed hard. She needed to get ready to go, but what should Cressida bring?
She didn't own anything, not really. Her one belonging, her precious stuffed toy, had been torn yesterday. She could pack another white dress, but where would Cressida put it?
"Hey, move!"
Cressida's head snapped up a moment too late. A hand tapped her back, pushing her forward. She had not realized that she was standing at the top of the staircase, blocking the steps. Malek shoved her, the girl losing her footing and slipping down the steps. She grabbed onto the banister, biting down on her tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Cressida's ankle twisted beneath her and her knees had bruised, but she was not bleeding, thankfully.
The child looked back up the steps, where Malek was still standing. He walked past her without a second glance, joining Ashera, who was already downstairs.