Only in a Waking Dream

***Only in a Waking Dream*** is the seventh chapter of *Winter's Tales*.

## Synopsis

After abandoning her past and everything she's known, Winter is left reliant on herself in an ever-changing world that makes no sense. The only thing she does know, however, is that she's in a constant waking dream - one where she must protect her integrity and secrets from outsiders - and she resolves to hide even if it means going to extremes.

## Content Warning

*This chapter contains mentions and visuals of blood, violence, emotional/physical abuse directed toward a child, and trauma which can be unsettling to some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised.*

## Transcript

*"Alone in the dark, they traveled to freedom..."*

*"Broken and worn, but they will keep on in the moonlight, the moonlight..."*

*Hello, dear listeners! My lunch break is over, and I'm back to continue this story right where I left off. I had a good lunch, thanks for asking! I'm refreshed and ready to begin.*

*We're about to head into the darkest chapters of my life. The cadaverous pit I fell into that turned into a portal of blissful ignorance and imagination. Axes hung high over my head, ready to drop at any given moment. I danced with the foxes and the hounds, faced torment from familiar faces turned to stone-cold foes, traversed under the light of a million eyes, and finally, learned that to ascend from the smog of my darkest hour, I had to resonate.*

*But before we start, can you take a guess as to what theming this chapter has, given its title and the choice of Varien song for the quote?*

*Any guesses? Going... going... gone!*

*If you guessed dreams, then congrats! I'd give you a Triscuit, but I'm afraid we're all out of stock right now. Oh well.*

*Dreams impact us all in many ways. They're a paradise, a fever trip we seemingly only glimpse at night, when the moon is perched high in the sky and surrounded by its friends in the stars. They're a means of a escape, of visuals to keep us safe and snug in bed.*

*Supposedly, dreams are another reality away from the horror and grind of the world. They're endless. Persistent.*

*You walk in a dream. You live in a dream. A fantasy, an island in the middle of the ocean, with singing fairies and luxuries.*

*Dreams are a wonderland, mystical and effervescent. You just want to live them forever like it's the fairytale end of a storybook.*

*Nothing in life is ever like a storybook.*

*What happens when these dreams turn... bad? When they turn evil and transform into the definition of hell, a monster lurking underneath your bed? The shadows in your closet? Those eyes in the dark that torment you sunup to sundown?*

*Nightmares are dreams that haunt you. Scare you. Keep your heart beating and your senses heightened. You think you're a goner and ten feet under the ground, then you wake up in a cold sweat in your bed. "It's not real," you say to yourself.*

*Yet you're deluding yourself. Dreams and nightmares can both be real. They can coexist at the same time - and aren't exclusive to the raven-black night.*

*People dream asleep, but people can also dream awake. It's a phenomenon I refer to as a waking dream. Everything around you is a dream, constructed of the figments of your imagination, and just as it is strong, it is fragile and can be broken with one errornous move.*

*It goes without saying that I'm a daydreamer. A proud dreamer. A deep dreamer rooted in the concept of her dreams. I've always had dreams, if you've been following along with me for the past six chapters. I've dreamt of interacting with spirits and the stars. Of meeting a girlfriend under the sea - my lesbian prophecy - and many other whimsical things I controlled with deft flicks of my fingers.*

*When the earth cast me out and turned tail on me, and when I was running from the past I had left far, far behind me, I struggled hard to cope with what had been scarred and branded directly in the center of my heart. I had nowhere to run and was surviving off scraps, reliving horrific memories a child like me should have never borne.*

*I knew I had to find a way to live my new life. If it took my dreams and developing an iron will to protect my dreams, so be it.*

*As I kept telling myself, as I kept breathing and fighting for my survival, and as I turned my own back to the world, as I disappeared into my dreams...*

*It was all just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream...*

Cover me, oh!

*Run!* I told myself frantically, zipping off the front porch of the house and landing with a hard *skid* on the sidewalk, my legs momentarily buckling under the weight of my backpack. *Just run!*

I was running away from my home of *eleven years*. I was running to *nowhere*. Running with no end goal in mind, with no time on the clock, it having bled out like the blood of my wrist into the carpet. I had no time to stop.

Comprehend.

Think.

Cope.

Why should I stop? If I stopped, I could die. If I stopped, I could be on the ground with my throat slit and heart left to bleed out onto the pavement. If I stopped, I'd be *hunted*. *Ravaged*.

I was a sinful witch, and my Salem Witch Trial had resulted in near-death, but I managed to evade my pre-made grave and was fleeing on a heavy broomstick towards *nothing*. I had *nothing*.

All thanks to *her*. *She*, who made my eyes sting, cry out for me to paw at them and rub out the pain. *She*, who was a benefactor to the aching scar on my wrist. *She*, who stood there, *watching*. *Watching* me nearly get murdered. *Watched* me *bleed*. *Feasted* on the awe and thrill.

A knife went through my heart, just like the knife that, now hidden in my pocket, had torn into me with traitorous edges.

Backpack slung over my shoulders, I ran. I kept running, refusing to quit no matter how much I sputtered and gagged and wanted to vomit *everything* out of me. Forget *everything*. Forget it *all*.

I ran past Saul's house. I couldn't stay with Saul. Live in a place next to Father, anywhere *near* Father, when that Father attempted to murder me? He'd *know* I'd be with Saul. Saul didn't know Father almost christened himself a *killer* tonight. A *child* killer. Saul couldn't know *anything*. *No one* could *know*. I held in a sob, and swallowed it down like hard medicine.

My boots hammered the dark, rough gray asphault beneath me, and I heard the wind pierce the outer edges of my ears, a wolf's cry that split the silence. It almost sounded like an air raid siren warning of eternal warfare on the far outskirts. There was *war*. A war was *coming*. More *bloodshed*. The night was hungry for *more*, and its sights were on a young girl. A moving target was a feast unable to be passed up.

It was a dark, bleak night. No stars had come to light my way, abandoning me when I just needed *someone*. Salvation was dead, and with it, my hope.

I had no hope. There was no point in hoping when I feared *attack*. *Ambush*. *Betrayal*. *Her*. *Everything*.

This neighborhood was a *mine field*. I had to *escape* and *fast* - where I was unconcealed, they'd net me. My chest was *inflamed*.

Wherever I went next, only my heart could ever know.

This wasn't a one hundred meter dash. This wasn't a fun run. This wasn't me running for *glory*, or *joy*. What even was *joy*?

This was running for *survival*.

It was *do* or *die*.

So I kept on in the thinnest rays of the moon, the last of the light in my life; the rest of my heart was shrouded, pulsing, but hollow. A hollow pulse was keeping me alive. My chest was tight, heaving, and *dry*. Empty.

Darkness took over. My heart wouldn't be able to take much soon.

The farther I got away from Dani and Father, the better. They couldn't know where I was headed, and certainly didn't want to know any scrap of my whereabouts. Father would *kill me*. And I couldn't *turn back*. I didn't want to.

I could have been fleeing my near-killer. My ex. Someone chasing me, wanting to demand what happened and put me back. I gagged, barely swallowing the putrid bile down.

To have them know would be asking to *butcher a gash* in my already fragmented heart.

As I ran, my eyes *screamed* at me, singed with the smoke of the looming war, and tears leaked out, spilling onto the sidewalk. I felt them run, salty and warm, and fall. They kept coming, more and more, and I knew with every step I took, every wisp of breath escaping my mouth, every tear shed, every throb of my scarred wrist, that I was far away from *home*.

Why was I still calling it a *home*? It wasn't home anymore. Where even *was* a home?

What even was the definition of *home* to me anymore?

I had yet to know. There was no time to stop. Just *run*.

*Run*.

And keep running.

I reached an intersection with a semi-lit lightpole and gripped onto it, floating in a vast, lonely sea, finally exhausted of some of my stamina for the time being. My breathing was *chaotic*, and my hips felt swollen and shrunken into me. I didn't feel *balanced*. I didn't feel *human*. I felt *ill*.

*Heave*. *Heave*. *Heave*. The world was spinning, the night and houses a smudged canvas. Nothing was clear. I couldn't move. My eyes were raw, and my entire body was shaking, convulsing in *agony* and just *agony*.

Reluctantly, I forced myself to walk for a disjointed moment, trying to familiarize myself with my surroundings and look for a way out of the neighborhood. The air raid sirens were *louder*. I could smell the smoke, the screech of a vulture. They wanted the bounty atop my sweat-beaded, creased forehead.

I can't believe how much I hate

Pressures of a new place roll my way

The streets were right out of someone's acid trip of a nightmare. Things were pitch-black and blurry, barely any light emitting from the windows or houses. Shadows were everywhere, on patrol, lapping at my feet. A dog barked in a nearby yard, giving alarm to the creatures of the night. Wind chimes clattered with the breeze. Trees croaked.

I was in luck; I recogized a house with a swing hanging from a tree, and if I kept following the road and the distant moon, I'd be out of the neighborhood and into the open. Out of the war. Into *shelter*, or just *something*.

Where *no one* would suspect an eleven-year-old had just ran out of her home, forced out of it with a slit wrist, forbidden from return, and gifted blood drops of betrayal behind her. A trail for her hunters to follow, if they were clever enough to even chase after an offering like me. I shuddered, giving my raw eyes a much-needed rub.

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit, cover me

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit, cover me

I had stopped for a minute. Too much time had elapsed; my enemies could have gotten a major gain against me. Not wanting to deplete more of my stamina and fall short of that *something*, I speedwalked, my backpack crushing my shoulders and dragging me down. *Deadweight*.

The pressure was pulling me to the ground, urging me to stop and collapse. To rest up and relax, safely curl up and sleep away the night...

*No! I can't make any more mistakes!* I chastised myself. *If I stop, they're going to attempt to find me. I can't be found.*

*I don't wanna be found.*

Temptations were strong, but when you're in fight or flight mode and in a race against time, potentially to save yourself from being ever-the-more scarred and discarded on death's doorstep, there was no time to give in to sacred desires.

I crumble underneath the weight

Pressures of a new place roll my way

My shoulders *burned* with the weight of my backpack. The staggering amount of burdens placed onto my back. Burdens I had to forcefully shut out of my thoughts, whimpering them away, since words weren't with me, neither expression.

If I thought about them now, I'd collapse in the street and leave myself vulnerable. People couldn't discover me or where I'd come from... or they would send me right back to *Father*. *Send me back to my near-killer*.

At the thought of being sent back to the father that broke all of his promises to brand me a deviant and sinner - the same man who had nearly succeeded in killing me for defying my own religion, the same man who called me a traitor, scum, and a witch, the same man who stared at me with no remorse and wanted me gone in ten minutes or face *death* - *I bolted*.

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit, cover me

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit, cover me

Panting, I gasped for air and ran *harder* and *harder*, throwing all caution I had in regards to my body's condition to the wind.

The houses sped by me in a blur, like they had been smeared in ink on a brick wall, dripping and oozing away and into the drain... I glanced up at the moon, still shining and glowing a luminous silver, lighting the way ahead. The *sole* beacon in the swarm of darkness.

My heart was tugging me somewhere, pounding violently, squeezing my ribcage together, and my legs were *itching*, as if someone had poured kerosene on them and lit the match. I didn't know *where* was *home*. None of these houses could be a *home*.

Those flames licked higher up my legs, *higher* and *higher*. They burned at the bases of my shoulders, promising nothing but *hell* on the road beyond. The highway to *hell*.

I was running from one hell to another. Jumping from one body to another.

Christ. I was *roadkill*.

Eventually, I felt my legs grow too shaky for running again, itching, telling me to *stop it immediately*. You've put us through enough, Winterlyn. Stop running. *No,* I'd rebuke.

But relief gave me minimal vigor. The streets parted, and in the distance, I saw the outlines of *tall* trees.

Some of the *tallest* trees in Pineshadow. In the distance, the Cascades, pointing high into the sky, snow-capped daggers.

Spirits in my room, friend or foe?

Felt it in my youth, feel it when I'm old

And, outlined in the moonlight, park structures that were once mighty castles and hideaways for little children like me.

Pinelake Park. The Piney Woods! So close. Yet so far.

*This* is where my heart needed to *be*. I *felt it*. *Familiarity*. A strong one, overshadowed by the acidic taste of betrayal and bloodlust in my mouth. I had *safety*.

Carefully checking the street to be sure that no cars were about to flatten the remainder of my shattered soul, or that anyone, a body, was watching me, charging for me with unwarranted questions and silver handcuffs, I sped across.

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit, cover me

Dusting off my jumpsuit (Cover me)

I pelted across to the other side and landed unevenly on the sidewalk, swaying on my feet. The world still spun around and around, too fast for my unstable bearings to handle. Vomit settled in my throat, but I forced it back down, wheezing with the taste and gripping my shirt. Blood was in my ears. There was static. Sirens. War.

There was also the Piney Woods in stone throwing distance.

*Yes*! I just needed to sprint to the general park vicinity, and then I'd be in the clear of the neighborhood and away from the war, searchlights, and hunters potentially searching for me. Was there time to *check* the time? Maybe so. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fumbling for it in a quaky hand.

*9:41 PM*

It had been around *ten minutes*, ten minutes that felt like *ten hours*, since I fled my former home. Now I had to close in on the *home stretch*. Heaven knows what would happen next.

I can't believe how much I hate (Cover me, oh)

Pressures of a new place roll my way (Cover me, oh)

Swallowing down my woes and rising anxiety, the garbled fears I couldn't spit out, I ran the hardest I ran that night, crossing into the tall grasses of the park and reaching a tree when at last, my legs couldn't take the forced running and fast-paced fleeing any longer. They gave out, and I collapsed with a heavy *thud* onto the dirt, shaded in dapples by a tall oak tree. Some of it rested against my lip, and I rubbed it off, laying belly-down.

My lungs ached and scorched, thirsty for air. I gulped it in, releasing my backpack from my shoulders and setting it beside me. I pushed myself up, but my body's strength had run dry - the rushing river had dried.

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit, cover me (Cover me, oh)

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit, cover me (Cover me, oh)

All of the energy gone, used to flee the growing wound of my past. A *past* I'd rather *forget* and watch burn to ashes I'd then sweep into a sewer to be washed away forever. The past was *behind me*. It was *gone*. Useless rubbish.

The air sirens in my head stopped wailing, and the fog that had clouded my brain nearly fully parted. It dawned on me in the deadest of this night what I had done.

I'd *lived*.

I'd *escaped* the neighborhood. I'd *fled* home. I'd *survived* the worst night of my *life*. I had a scarred wrist and battle scars breaking up the interior of my heart and head.

Through tenacity and sheer will alone, I *lived*. I was *alive*.

But at what cost?

I looked at my bandaged wrist, tugging at the white strands. Beneath those white tendrils was a massive, pink scar cutting across my flesh, red and sore from the serrated edges of the knife that was once Father's, now mine.

The knife. Edges. Betrayal. My skin. Father doing the dirtiest deed of his life. Being watched. *Helpless*.

A single gasp escaped me that night.

Immediately, flashbacks seized my brain, whirling in a hurricane, and I gripped the grass stalks, ripping them up unconsciously.

The cost was *mortifying* - and I couldn't stop everything from *replaying again and again*.

Having a family. Having someone to raise me and *protect me*. A scar on the brain.

Losing the person who claimed she was my soulmate, the apple to my eye and a cherry to my pie to *deceit*. Another scar on the brain, and a scar across the heart.

Losing my last links to Mom. The memories shared between me and a more loving, more doting, more peaceful Father. My bedroom, where I dreamed and spent hours becoming increasingly immersed in the world of Varien.

Scar on the brain. Scar on the heart. More scars opened and bled out, the blood trailing onto the dirt.

Standing with Father. His promises to protect me, golden and pure. His love of me. The nights we spent staring at the stars. Two scars across the eyes.

Running away with a girlfriend through woods and mystic art experiences. Embracing what it was to be alive. Being *true*.

My entire heart was *ripped open*. I choked, thrashing and shaking, unable to tear myself free of the void's claws and all of the traumatic memories. Was this reality?

My heart was *pounding*. I could *hear it*. It was *pain*. I was breathing heavy, throat sore, everything sore. Desperation heaving until I just *couldn't*.

Something was flattening me to the ground. My breaths grew more frantic, and I felt like *screaming*, *screaming* until my lungs had shrunk, withered, and plummeted into the acid chamber in my stomach. Until I just gave up and *died*.

This felt like *dying*. This *was* dying.

*Dying* inside.

Because, for as long as I'd live, I'd remember *every* horrific moment that happened that November night, in excruciating, haunting, *vomit-inducing* detail.

Me sleeping on the couch with Dani, snuggled warmly on her until she *pushed* me off.

Telling Father I had a secret.

Forcing me out, isolated and defenseless, expecting me to be her *fearless* little warrior.

Except that I was a coward facing Goliath.

The words I spoke led to me being assaulted. The tang of blood arose.

I was berated. Treated like a *witch*. A *deviant*. A *traitor*. A *sinner*.

Dani deserved those terms more than me.

My wrist was cut. I was left for dead.

Everything played on loop. Everything kept *echoing*. The *voices*. The *screams*. The crying. The throbbing in my wrist, the pounding of my heart, my gasps, until I *burst*.

I *screamed*, planting my face into the chilly dirt and sobbing, sobbing the remainder of strength I had *out*.

I had no *home*. I had no *family*.

No one *loved me*. No one *cared for me*. No one would ever be there for me now.

I was alone... I was *lost*.

I was *nothing*.

Was this a *nightmare*? Was I *living* in a nightmare? I pinched myself, adding to the pain. This was *reality*.

I shivered, cold. I hadn't yet changed into my pajamas, so I wasn't freezing, but I was still *cold*. I had no blanket to hide and wrap myself in.

Out here, I was *exposed* to the *elements*.

*Real* elements of a violent, blood-streaked nightmare.

This was a *real* nightmare, and it was no comfort to me. I curled into a ball, continuing to sob myself into sleep, and as my eyes were weighed down, I *swore* to the stars that for a second, I saw a beautiful woman.

A beautiful woman with long, fluffy hair, composed of stars, putting a hand on my shoulder to wish me well.

Then, the world faded out, and the blackness of the night swept its wing over me.

The next morning, I groaned, fidgeting on the scratchy, rough surface I was on, and I rubbed my bleary eyes.

Large, orange-yellow blobs overtook my field of vision, and the back of my head felt... itchy?

"Where... where am I?" I uttered. This didn't feel like my bedroom, and I was *cold*. Where was my blanket? My pillows? My *bedroom*?

I glanced around. My eyes widened - I was at Pinelake Park, under a *tree*, sitting in the *dirt*. There was no blanket or walls.

Why was I at Pinelake Park by myself?

And then it *hit me*. *Violently*. The wound scored on my heart reopened, and clutching my chest, I collapsed back on the ground.

Foolish child! Dani *outed me* to Father, and he turned on me in a *second*, *assaulted* me, cut into my *wrist*, and *disowned me*. Dani did *nothing* and *watched me get abused and nearly murdered*. I ran to the park in the *dead of night* with my belongings and then passed out, sobbing myself to sleep.

Everything rushed back, making me curl into a ball and breathe rapidly. This went on for a few minutes.

I was here, alone, under a tree... alone...

*Wait*.

I was *alone*. Sleeping where *anyone* could see me.

*Crap, did anybody notice me?!* I leaped to my feet in a panic. Dumbass! Choosing to sleep where *everyone* could see my scarred, tired body? Send me back to Father? Call the *cops*?

*The cops*. God, I didn't think about *them*. My brain was whirling, and I could feel the sweat forming at the base of my neck. My heartbeat was wild and untamed, pressing my source of life against its boney cage.

*The cops could find me! Someone could send me back to Dad! I'm in a death trap. I'm alone! I have no one!*

*The cops would find me if I didn't act*.

"Stop!" I whispered to myself, sitting down by the tree and breathing. In. Out. In. Wasn't that how people coped with panic attacks? Fear of being put in shackles? Fear of being taken to a *grave*?

I kept telling myself to breathe. There were no sounds, and the sky was still rosy. Full daybreak was some time away.

The world never stood still.

After a few more minutes of breathing, I was unsteady, but calmer. I got up, tentatively scanning my surroundings.

No cars were parked near Pinelake Park. The neighborhood was silent, sans the calls of birds and the light rustle of the wind. The road was quiet, not a car to be seen.

It was... *tranquil*.

Odd, and terrifying to be the only one awake in Pineshadow, but *tranquil*.

The coast was *clear*. The time to move was *now*.

Kneeling down, I reached into my back pocket for my phone. It still had a high charge at seventy-one percent, but if I wasn't wise, the battery would die and *then* I'd be screwed. Though, there were power lines nearby.

I opened my screen. *6:14 AM*.

*Phew*. Sighing in relief, I tucked it back into my pocket and grabbed my backpack. Was I robbed in the middle of the night? No, my backpack hadn't moved from where I last left it.

Good job, Winter. For your first night on the run, you didn't get mugged, robbed, kidnapped, or killed. Mission passed.

But I had a new mission now: *find shelter*.

I couldn't stay out where I'd be exposed in the broad daylight. A child like me shouldn't be isolated from a parent for too long, and a child like me *definitely* shouldn't be wandering lands on her own.

If I didn't play tactfully, someone would call CPS or the police, and I'd be put back into Father's crimson-stained hands.

Or worse... thrown into the *baddest place* of all. A place I refused to name because it was so *putrescent*, so *vile*, and so *depressing* it wasn't *worthy* of being named. It was *death*.

Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out my brindled jacket and threw it on, providing some warmth to counteract against the chilly morning.

It was early. I needed to get a move on before Pineshadow's denizens woke up, found me, and asked me too many unanswerable questions - and then cast me into the fiery pits of hell.

Yet where could I even *go*? Where was a place that could remotely *function* as a home?

There were houses all around in every direction of the road. Fenced off, or easy to walk up to. Those houses were havens, with all of the food and drink in the world, comfortable beds, quaint spaces, lush yards... oh, it was so *tempting* to waltz up to somebody's doorstep and beg to be taken in, to relish in someone else's comfort.

Too *easy*. How could I just *show up* on the doorstep of a stranger and *beg* for sanctuary? That stranger would just dial up CPS and put me in Father's custody. Chances of the neighborhood knowing Father were high, and voices rung in my head, further stripping my view into uneven hunks.

"You're Edwin's daughter, aren't you?"

"Go back to your father, little one. A child your age should not be out here alone."

"Child! Scram! At your age, you should learn running away and being immature is the cause of *calumny*!"

*No!* I screamed at myself. No, no, no!

I was *not* going to try any of these houses. People would *scorn* me. They'd *hate* me. They wouldn't support some dumb tomboy kid rejected for defying religion and scarred for her love of women. They wouldn't *want* an oddball like me.

I couldn't place faith in anyone. The world was too much of a heartless place, and the people who last cared for me were all heartless. The tickets to freedom had all sold out in the silver ages.

From now on, *no one* was to be trusted. No one but *me*.

Just me, myself and I, solo I'd ride on until I die.

The park was too *exposed*. Yes, there was cover, but plenty of spots where I'd be visible in plain sight. Risks could *not* be taken, and I'd need to build my strength in order to partake in such endeavors.

Houses were scratched off the list. Where to next?

The answer laid in all of its glory in front of me.

*The Piney Woods*.

Previously, in all of my trips to the woods, I had been with Dani, and we'd always enter northmost. I was entering southmost, and this time, I had no one's company.

I had to brave the Piney Woods alone. Reading parts of *Hatchet* in English taught me that much. Oh, I could have *certainly* used Brian's help here!

Gulping, I swung my backpack over my shoulders - and for a good, deadlier measure, I drew the pocket knife and clicked the button. The silver blade popped out, a dull red streak on it from where it had sunk into my skin the night before, and I shuddered for a second time.

I had fear. Tons of it. And I smelled of it... and dirt, among other things. But if I wanted to *survive* and not live with Satan's incarnate, or worse, with thousands of other children like me, I had to do what the lone travelers did in *Moonlight*.

Persevere for the endgame.

Do you see why I quoted that Varien song specifically in the opening?

*Show me the way, Varien,* I encouraged my idol, and I stepped forth, crossing the park grounds with the knife drawn. Then, I slunk into the southern maw of the Piney Woods, and disappeared out of sight (but not yet out of mind).

Inside, the woods were empty, trees towering into the rosy-blue sky and clawing at it in the raging war of dominance I saw in the darkest night. I obeserved birds and a gray squirrel on a thinner branch of a fir tree, but they were silent. Very silent...

My hackles were standing on end. Someone could jump me at any given moment. I had to be ready.

Ready, even if I wanted to stop, drop, and roll my way into a burrow and never come out again.

My boots crunched bundles of pine needles underfoot, and I pushed through several shrubs, every inch of me on guard.

Nothing. Eerie silence.

I pushed aside a bush.

*Rustle*.

Growling on instinct, I jumped back, clutching the wooden handle of the knife and expecting a ferocious enemy, Father, or worse, Dani attempting to come back for me to lie that she suddenly cared.

That ferocious enemy I had dreamed up magically five seconds ago was a *freaking pine siskin*. The bird flew up into the branch of a spruce tree.

"Are you fuc- oh forget it," I muttered, shaking myself and tucking the knife idly by my side again. Great, I was all beefed up about a *stupid bird*. Forgive me, pine siskin.

I continued travelling through the Piney Woods, slow with every step, cautious of my environment. I scanned everywhere, kept the knife drawn, and built my shoulders up to intimidate. I wasn't gonna play around. I *had* to defend myself, even with my fear.

People say aggression stems from fear - I could *use* that to my advantage, if the fear wasn't too overwhelming.

By now, I'd been in the woods for around seven minutes. This territory was... *unfamiliar*. This part of the Piney Woods wasn't touched by me or Dani, and there were boulders, mossy logs, haphazard-looking trees, and obstacles for me to tear through and climb.

The deeper I went, the more safe I was. I had to convince myself of that. Surely no one would chase an eleven-year-old fighting for her motherhecking life out here into the woods?

I sure hoped Mom was protecting me from her spot in the sky.

Nine minutes now. I pulled my hoodie over my head in case someone went right for my jugular. Better to be hidden than to be identified.

Just as nearly ten minutes passed by, out of nowhere, I saw... *bricks*.

*Bricks*. *House* bricks.

*Shelter* bricks.

*Shelter*!

"Yes!" I whispered to myself, running ahead and skidding to a halt at the back of the building, which, come to think of it, was like a small cabin. It was made of gray brick, durable if not a little weathered with age. How long had this been here? Ten years, twenty? How had me and Dani not found *this*? Dani clearly hadn't, or she would have disclosed that earlier.

Next to the cabin was a broken tree that leaned onto the roof. I could easily get up there with simple parkour, but I was too timid to test that out. I made a note to try to see if the branch would support my weight later.

The cabin had windows that were a bit dusty. I crouched under them - someone could be *hiding* in there, and I didn't want to make any fatal mistakes. I had already made one listening to Dani and her disturbing lies.

So far, all was quiet, and a spark of *something* ignited in my heart. Something of *promise*. I couldn't identify the feeling, though. It felt... positive? Reassuring?

It was suppressed by fear. It was *something*, but not strong enough for me to balloon with it.

I shrugged it off, cracking my knuckles and creeping out to the front of the cabin. It had a wooden door in great condition and steps leading up to said door.

The front was barren. *Deserted*. Birds chirped in the distance.

No company. No one was home.

That was what it seemed. I could relax a little, but my guard *had* to be maintained. An entity could lurk anywhere, ambush me, and then, my efforts to escape persecution and certain death would be for *naught*.

*Don't be a coward. Be fearless,* I told myself, shaking off the mold and the fear of the prior night.

Knife, jacket, *cover me*.

I ascended up the steps and knocked on the door three times. *Knock*, *knock*, *knock*.

Nothing. The trees croaked and swayed in the wind, and a leaf fell beside me.

Okay. More evidence that I was completely, *totally* alone.

Was the door locked, however? If it was locked, I'd have to get out of the woods and try to find shelter elsewhere... and at that rate, that would occupy the whole day.

I had to conserve my strength, or I'd die in *five days flat*.

Swallowing down my trepidation, and holding that knife as if it was about to be tossed into the shores of the Pacific, I twisted the doorknob and pushed.

The door *opened*.

I *leapt* into the fray with a (surprisingly loud?) battlecry, standing with the knife out and my body squared.

What was my attacker?

*No one*.

The cabin was *hollow*. It had long been unoccupied, and the light flooding in from the doorway gave me a better analysis of my new bearings.

It was a comfortably-sized, dusty cabin with wood flooring and shelving on both sides. There were a few windows wih light beige-pink drapes and two outlets on either side.

*Perfect*. The cabin had electricity. I was not going to lose my phone, and I could listen to Varien with my CD player.

However, there were more urgent matters to be addressed.

I set my backpack down, catching a white slip of paper resting idly on the shelf. *Hmm?* Curious, I picked up the old piece and blew off the dust.

*9/8/2001 - AM LEAVING MY SOLITARY LIFE BEHIND TO MOVE IN WITH WIFEY*

"That's... interesting. And also *completely useless*." I tucked it into the netting on the side of my backpack. Whoever that guy was, I felt a twinge of pity. He didn't know what would happen three days later...

Swiftly, I got to work removing some of the dust off the shelves so I could set my things down. I fished out my clothing from my backpack, tucking it into some of the shelving, and also sorted some of my other items in the meantime.

Soon, spring (late fall) cleaning had been completed, and my backpack weighed just as much as a partially deflated football. The only weights in there now were my school supplies as well as my box. It was staying in there where it'd be safe - just because I found the cabin didn't mean I was fully out of the woods yet.

Do you get the joke? Do you get it? Eh? Eh? I'm a comedy genius!

*Ahem*. Nope. I'm not. Let's continue.

I sat back, preparing to relax for a little while to think of my next game plan. Alright, Winter. You found shelter. That's the first step.

What was the next step to survival? I grabbed my phone, preparing to Google a survival guide...

*Grrrooooowlll*.

Oh *crap*, I didn't have breakfast this morning. Duh, I ran away, so of course I had no food.

The cold sweat returned.

CRAP, I HAD NO FOOD.

I didn't pack *food* or *water* at the house. I had *no time*. If I ramsacked the fridge, Father would have decapitated me and mounted my head on the fireplace wall as a trophy for honor killing me.

The cabin didn't have *food*. It had been abandoned for nearly a *decade*.

As an additional barricade, I couldn't go *groveling* for food. I wasn't a circus bear that demanded people chuck me unsalted, awful-tasting stale peanuts. I wasn't going to rip myself apart to entertain for food. I was *not* going to sacrifice myself for that.

I *needed* to find a way to get food. But how?

I dug through my backpack, trying to think of an answer, and suddenly, I got a flicker of light.

*Wait... didn't Dad give me twenty dollars for the sticker machine at school?*

I zipped open a compartment of my backpack, and sure enough, my theory was straight as an arrowhead. I had twenty bucks.

Twenty bucks to spend on food.

The nearest grocery store was a Kroger - that was ten minutes away. Despite that abundance of food, I knew I couldn't walk into there alone. I was too young to be in a grocery store by myself, and my presence would make store staff dubious of me - not to mention security cams and TVs would track me at every turn.

This ruled out Kroger and the nearby Haggen, my childhood grocer, as options.

Plan B, I'd quickly build, was a gas station. And muscle memory served me correctly, as five minutes up the road was a 76 gas station and mart.

Gas stations weren't the ideal place for food or water... but kids my age sometimes entered gas stations solo to pick up items for the parents.

I had a growth spurt recently too, and I was just a *little* tall for an eleven-year-old.

I had *cover*. Thank. Freaking. God.

I swung my emptied backpack over my shoulders and flung myself out of the door, closing it and *praying* to heaven's heels that I wouldn't be robbed or mugged.

Making my move, I started walking in the direction of PMS, which was nearby to the gas station. Judging from when I was driven to school, the woods ended just across the street. If I walked straight, I could turn right and make it to the 76.

Time wasn't to be wasted here - people were waking up, and the day was sputtering to life. The less people there were, the *better*.

Wherever I set foot, not a *person* was to be trusted.

Not a single *straggler* but the poor unfortunate one disguised in my battered body.

Calmly, I walked through the Piney Woods with my backpack, and on point with my calculations, I emerged from the woods onto the sidewalk across from PMS, its parking lot dormant due to the holiday for teachers and staff. I felt a butterfly arise in my stomach, but I shoved it back down into the acids.

Necessities for survival were more important right now. I'd worry about school come time for the final weeks of the first semester.

Some cars sped by on the road, spitting gray clouds of exhaust, and my nose wrinkled. *Yuck*! My hungry stomach was not impressed and gurgled; sharp pain struck my lower region, and I almost doubled over on the sidewalk.

I was *hungry* as *hell*. The gas station was three minutes away.

*Come on, Winter. Don't think with your stomach, use your head,* I scolded myself, shoving my hunger with the dark clumbs of unused baggage I was storing in my brain. Loneliness, having no one to love, no one to hold, losing things I'd loved for years, losing the love of my-

*Grip*.

I was squeezing the fabric of my jacket, staring at the ground, tears leaking out my eyes.

I lost my *soulmate*.

I lost *half of myself*.

I froze.

*Winter, I like you. You're the flame, and I'm the silly moth falling into your light. I can't deny I'm into you. I can't deny that I like you the way I do. My heart is screaming for you. It's begging for you.*

*Dani loved me... and yet all this time, she lied...*

My heart beat faster. Everything closed in, the voices, the trees, the sidewalk...

*Thump thump thump thump thump-*

Suddenly, I roughly hit myself on the side of the face and brushed away the tears.

"Ugh, stop that! Stop *thinking* about that!" I hissed in a low whisper, aggressively wiping my face. Stupid me. Just get something to *eat*. Worry about your traumatized loveless life later. Just *stop*.

Forcefully shutting the door on any thought that did not involve *food*, I walked ahead faster, tucked my hood over my head for additional secrecy, and pushed the button on the street pole adjacent to the sidewalk, and crossed when it read WALK.

I stepped foot onto the other side, uninterrupted by the cars or the people, and I walked into the lot of the 76. It was a small gas station with ten pumps and blue and orange color scheming. Looked more suitable for California than Washington, but I digress.

Only two cars were in the parking lot at the time, and I presumed they belonged to employees. The mart was twenty-four hours, as noted on the 76 sign near the road, so I could basically come at any point of the day. Not at night, though - gas stations became shady places at night, and I didn't want to be subjected to torture from cliques, gangs, or twisted, violent people... like *Father*.

Darting my eyes around to triple-check that I was *unescorted*, I entered, and the bell inside rang.

"Heyo, kiddo!" A man with dreads shouted from the countertop. I gave a small nod and scrambled to the food isle, picking up a box of Cheerios and a box with assorted snacks. It was light, so I could easily stuff this into my backpack with my box, and the Cheerios box would fit too. A bit of added weight, but weight I could handle.

I *had* to handle it.

I went to the drinks section and picked up a crate of water which held six, large bottles of Fiji. I'd be carrying that with my hands.

All in all, these essentials cost fifteen dollars. I wasn't going to thank Father for the money, though.

I placed the items on the sales table, and they were rung up.

"That'll be fifteen dollars," the cashier stated. I gave him the money.

"Thank you," I said out of courtesy, shyly taking my things, stuffing the boxes into my backpack and picking up the crate. "My dad wanted me to run an errand real quick."

Without another word, I walked out of the store and speedwalked back to the cabin. I'd gotten this done in less than an hour, and *finally*, my trials to get food and water had paid off.

I would *survive*.

Exhausted, I sunk down, tore out a bottle of water, and drank a quarter of the bottle, maybe past a quarter. I forced myself to stop drinking, knowing that I couldn't afford to overdrink - not only would I run out of water in a week, I'd also have to find a ba-

Actually, let's leave a thousand words unsaid about that... some things are better left not elaborated.

I ate a small portion of the Cheerios for my breakfast, careful to observe my rations.

Even if I was left partially thirsty or famished, it was for the better. I couldn't waste my precious resources now that I was living solo and wild, and I couldn't burn up the remaining cash I had left. I was *in it* for *survival*.

If I wasted the stuff I had, I'd die... and I didn't want to think about *death*. I didn't want to, not *ever*, not after what happened in that *shattered old house*.

Therefore, I set my rations for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Drink a little water for breakfast and lunch, eat some of the snacks for lunch, then eat more Cheerios for dinner. It wasn't the healthiest diet... and it wasn't long-term and viable...

...but a good start was better than imminent death, right?

With that out of the way, another obstacle showed up, and I nearly faceplanted into the cabin floor because of it.

I had a *week* before *school*. For a week, I could hide in the cabin, get acquainted with the Piney Woods, eat my rations, and stay concealed, but in a week, I'd have to go back to *school*.

*School*. And suddenly, everything in the woods felt more dark and dreadful.

I desperately wanted to avoid going back to school. Going there when I was nearly *killed by a kid there*? Left to *die* and *rot* and be *dismembered* by my psycho father? To be exposed, my insecurities treated like enchanted little fairies?

There was only *one person* in all of Pineshadow Middle School who *knew* what transpired in that house. Who knew of the barbaric assaults, the rejection, the disgrace. Who knew of the *evil* in plain sight and thought of *herself* as a *savior*.

*Daniela*. *Burton*. *Vunquist*.

A name so toxic to me it tasted like cyanide, burning holes in the bottom of my tongue.

I *hated* Daniela. *Daniela* was a self-centered lying *heathen*, a *poisonous* vulture who presided over me and abandoned me for her own interests. Her excuse? Not knowing it was going to escalate.

Why did I love her? Why was I a stupid *fool* in love? Our whole relationship was a freaking *lie*!

Out of anger, I punched the wall, recoiling hard from the blow and laying on the floor. "Crap..." I growled, clenching my fist.

I didn't want to remember *Daniela*... but I'd be burdened with the memories of her *forever*.

I missed *Dani*. The loving, fuzzy, and creative enigma, a siren with an alluring, adorable call that reeled me right into her. The Dani that stared in my eyes, and found a rainbow that she'd then use to describe the person I was.

Where did all that time go? Why did things turn out like this?

Sitting up, I thought back as to how Daniela was the only person that knew of Father's attack and my trauma. Could she *tell* the school about what I was going through? Tell Rex? Was I in to be scorned, tomatoed, and mocked until I couldn't take it anymore and was outcasted?

Would I walk back into PMS as a fraud and be sat in the center, under the glass dome, to be ridiculed as a fool?

Someone could rat me out. Someone could tell someone, then an adult, that I was an *orphan*. My mother was dead, and my father had threatened to murder me if I didn't leave. I had *no family*.

Plus, my relatives weren't in Pineshadow, and would they even *want* custody of me knowing I was queer? That I *wasn't* Jewish? Did they... did they even truly *love me* for who I was?

I feared with a growing spike in my heartbeat that someone would put me in police custody. I'd be held in a station with bleak walls, being interrogated in tears, and then, against my will, being placed in *foster care*.

The *dreaded* place of *hell* for children like me.

In foster care, you'd wait *forever* to find a home. To find *solace* in the dead dirt and trees. To hang with children, lost like you, but not wanting to be your friend.

I was an uneven, janky branch in a neatly-trimmed hedge.

I was queer and renounced all ties to my heritage.

Would *anyone* take me under their wing with how outside the box I was? Would I *ever* be honestly loved again?

*I... I can't go to foster care!*

I pinned myself up against the wall. No one would love me in foster care. I'd be trapped for *years* in foster care, growing old, trapped, oppressed, scarred and abused...

*"Who'd want a screwed-in-the-head kid like you?"*

*"You're just someone's dirty burden!"*

*"Rot in hell, spineless fleabag!"*

*"You're an outcast. Live like one!"*

"No... no, please! I don't want to go to foster care! Please don't make me go to foster care! I'd be ridiculed and mocked! I'd never... I'd never find a home..."

This went on for fifteen minutes. I weeped on the floor, breathing irregular and heavy, tears flowing out of my eyes. I clung to my backpack, crying, *wailing*, pleading that someone save me and tell me that I was *dreaming*.

All of what this was... it had to be a *dream*.

I shut my eyes. They reopened.

I was in the cabin and clutching my backpack.

This wasn't a dream... or it was a *neverending* one.

*Anyone* who figured out the truth about me would lock me up in *foster care*. I'd *never* see the light of day again.

Between foster care and dying... I would have killed myself in an instant if that was my fate.

Pulling myself together, I went outside and sat on the steps.

Foster care was my *worst nightmare*. It was *depraved* and *heartless*. A place with no soul and children with crushed entities. Lifeless. Forever waiting, but never to find a home...

*I couldn't end up there no matter what*.

From then on, I made it official.

The truth was staying *sealed* behind *my lips*, and if *anyone* dared to ask for a scrap of information out of me, I wouldn't *give it*.

If *anyone* wanted to know who I was, they wouldn't *get* it.

The last time a person gave me their hand, they would *betray me* and aim to *kill me*. I wasn't going to be deceived any more by someone's innocent hand.

They'd just want to dispose of me. Betray me like all the others. Nothing new, nothing would change.

What I held within me was *dangerous* and *highly classified*. That info wouldn't be *leaked*.

My home wasn't *anywhere* but the Piney Woods. It was unorthodox and hard to *believe* I could make an actual home here. But it was now. I had to make do with it - and perhaps I could improve on it. Everywhere else was a *threat*.

I'd continue going to school, despite the risks of my newly-constructed house of cards falling apart - but this time, I'd be *silent*. I'd show up, be there, clock in, and clock out - and *physically disappear*.

I wouldn't be seen anywhere else but at classes and lunch. My true identity? Closed, locked, and buried down in me. Anything wrong? Nope, I was just going to be the girl you've always known.

I wasn't the girl I used to be - far from it. I'd *fool* everyone.

Lying was my new cover - and I was an excellent liar beforehand. If I could fool Father for so long, I'd take it to extreme heights to trick an entire school.

Better safe than sorry.

Even if it meant ripping myself limb to limb, tearing gashes into my skin, playing with cloaks and daggers, and fiddling with smoking guns, I'd survive. I'd make *sure* of it. Dying? Never heard of her. I was going to *live*. Push comes to shove, lies on top of lies.

I'd do *anything* to maintain myself and to shield myself from the prying eyes of Pineshadow.

They wouldn't catch me now - from now on, I was *out of sight and out of mind*.

The week came and went, like a leaf falling from a tree. I dusted off the cabin, wheezing with all the dust clouds I scattered about, and I organized the shelves even more so they were suited to my liking. The shelves on the right, I'd permanently decide, would store my clothing on the bottom and my Varien albums on the top, resting next to my CD player, which I'd move down a few levels if I wanted to listen to it (the outlet between the shelves was closer to the bottom than on the top).

The other outlet on the left side was situated between more shelving, and it would house my phone and charger. You might give me an eyeroll for placing my phone far away. Yeah. I know. It's part of getting situated in a place you've barely ever known for all of your life.

Not like my phone ever strayed from me. I'd need it for research and to pass the time, among *numerous* other things.

Also on the left side was my food and water, which I tore through little by little. Each day, I was half-deprived of water and half-starved, and I felt my head grow light, stuck in the clouds. I was making myself ill, but I didn't have a *choice*.

I didn't have delicious strawberry pancakes or splendor anymore. That was singed and a decaying carcass before me, something I'd *never* grace again. Even if it meant inflicting pain on myself (wait, am I a masochist?), I'd have to be *limited*.

I felt weak inside. *Beyond* weak. But I wasn't going to grovel to anyone for help. Absolutely *not*. No one could be let in, or I'd be *imprisoned* and *shamed* in the depths of foster care for the rest of my *life*.

I didn't *need* help. I was fine *on my own*. I didn't care about my damn age or my still-developing brain or my odd appearance; *survival* was on my brain, and *that* topped *everything else* in life.

Sleeping was a tall order in the cabin. The floors got chilly at night, and I had no soft pillows, no fuzzy blankets to snuggle or cry into, and no plushies bonded like the Denny's Grand Slams. Beds of roses for the rich.

And I was the poor, broke-ass runaway with five dollars in the bank and sleeping uncomfortably on a cold, wood floor with a *sweater* as a blanket.

The sweater that *Dani* gave me for my *birthday*.

*I can wear it when I grow into it, but Dani, I won't forget it. You catering is immaculate.*

I wouldn't forget how she'd try to *have me killed*. Those amber eyes, traitorous and *full* of venom she'd pipe into my veins and paralyze me with.

We were floating in the ocean, and she pushed me *down*, *down*, *down* to my almost-demise.

There was a troubled teenage girl who was sleepless in Pineshadow. I *wasn't* able to sleep at all at first. I'd be freezing, shivering with a sweater draped over my thin body, and then I'd fall asleep only to dream of what I *had* with Dani crumbling and being destroyed. Then I'd be cut in the throat, bleeding out on the floor, and in my dying moments, Dani would say *it*, that *gut-wrenching and blood-curdling thing*, *again*.

On *repeat*.

*I... I d-didn't know it was g-going to escalate!*

*I... I d-didn't know it was g-going to escalate!*

*I... I d-didn't know it was g-going to escalate!*

I'd wake up in a panic, hitting the back wall, heaving and *wailing*.

Was my throat slit? Was I dying? Was Dani here to take me back to Father?

It *wasn't* real.

But my new reality - being a traumatized insomniac with a massive scar on her wrist, fidgeting with a scratchy sweater for a blanket as she died and was disembowled in her dreams - *was* real.

Yet, a part of me deep down was tied down, seeping a new belief into me.

*All of this is just a dream. It's just a dream.*

In the final days leading up to the return to PMS, I'd run over my checklists a few more times and took some measures out of precaution for what I was going to walk into.

First, my stuff was organized. I already covered this.

Second, a disguise. When you don't have access to baths or showers, and when your only source of a bath was a thin stream that hardly had enough water for a good soak... you had to use the alternatives that were *not* considered water.

I rolled in batches of pine needles to stay fresh and natural-scented. Who needs Bath & Body Works when you can just overwhelmingly reek of a pine tree?

As for my hair, I brushed it out with my fingertips. I didn't have time to steal my hairbrush, but my fingers worked pretty well to loosen the knots. Other issues would be addressed later with some more brainstorming.

For school report cards, I did something that as many of you would point out, is *illegal* in Washington. Father wasn't around to sign my report cards anymore... but that didn't mean he *still* could.

To make them pass by the front desk (thanks to Dani's insider knowledge, the clerk who checked attendance didn't give a rat's ass and only stamped every sheet given), I would *forge* Father's signature onto cards. It took a ton of practice with a piece of notebook paper, but eventually, a cursive *Edwin McCormick* was finely-crafted in blue pen ink and signed on my newest report card, received before break. In comparison to Father's, it was nearly perfect. Unless you were eagle-eyed, the difference couldn't be told.

Just in case anything happened, Steph was the backup relative I'd forge a signature for - I could write something zany with her name and it would pass through. She was in her twenties and capable of taking care of a child (if not a motorcycle). In addition, Steph was the favorite of my cousins, and she adored me - so who's to say she wasn't the perfect candidate?

I did more preparing in these final days, thinking about what it would be like to step foot into school again. Shaky? Terrifying? Daunting? Peaceful? Something out of a dream?

The answer: *everything* sans peaceful. Peace was something I had yet to relearn... we'll get to that later.

It was a frosty Monday morning when I woke up, clocking my time. *7:00 AM*. School started in thirty minutes. I didn't have everything in the morning routine for a *star-studded entrance* (ew, why would I want that anyway), but with my time, I rushed a mile a minute to prepare.

School supplies? Packed and ready to roll. I combed out my hair, pulling my jacket - my cover - over my body, and ate a small portion of Cheerios with water on the side for breakfast. Hunger gnawed at the outer edges, and my throat was dry, but that didn't *matter*.

It had been a week, and I was *alive* to tell the tale. Being alive, in of itself, was a feat. I took it with minimal pride, hidden behind a somber face.

With some final checks of myself via my phone's selfie mode, I set off on my journey through the woods with my backpack. Each step I took, steady, yet quaky, wanted to tether me to the ground. I was so *reluctant* to expose myself in the open, swarming grounds of PMS, and I had to dodge several thick shrubs, rocks, and trees that were *begging* me to stay hidden.

No, woods. I loved you, and I *swore* I loved you so much for keeping me safe. But I had no other option. Cops would investigate if I went missing from school grounds.

This was the fate I had to choose.

I emerged at the rim of the woods in seven minutes, breaking out into the open. Just across the street was PMS, and students and cars were trickling in.

I gulped, swallowing down a building lump of my stomach. Across the street was a place I struggled in and played Snakes and Ladders in. In there were people that *knew me* and *talked with me*.

They didn't know I had been traumatized, scarred, abused, broken, and forced into the life of an orphan in tatters. They didn't see the tears I'd sob, the sleepness nights where all I saw was blood, death, and misery.

Were they all just living in a dream? Or was *I* living in a dream?

Biting my lip, I dawned my hoodie over the top of my head and made my way across the street, reaching the sidewalk. Here, I could be seen - but I didn't *want* recognition.

*Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight and out of mind.*

I ran away

Slipped out the door

I followed the sidewalk up to the school, not changing my pace, not staring at any cars or at anyone. Just at the way ahead.

The only important one here was myself. Everyone else was irrelevant and would not aid my cause. *I* would be furthering my cause.

I stopped at the entrance, gazing at the glass doors that would lead to the inside - the *hell* and the clatter of a thousand students with an array of emotions.

I was afraid

Curious soul

Unlike those students, who were joyous and chitter-chattered away with utmost delight, spoiled rich and having the world at their disposal, I was *robbed* of that. I was a ruffian, a tree-hugger, and *runaway*. I was an orphan kid with *no parents* and no one to hug.

I didn't *want* anyone to hug me. Last time I was hugged by people, *they would betray me*.

Who's to say anyone here *wouldn't* end up repeating history and doing the same thing to me? My past wasn't *their business*.

I chose a path

Swallowed the key

My past was *my business*. I was going to *forget it*.

That - the happiness and memories and love and tender moments - was *then*. This was *now*.

And *now* wasn't filled with happy. It was filled with hardship.

My path had been picked, and this path shone in yellow brick for me and me *only*.

Gave up control

And the world stood still

Reluctantly, I pushed through the doors and into the light of the glass dome. I was snared in the colors and looked up, lost in the familiar trance of the light.

Many, shimmering colors, reds, oranges, vibrant greens and purples... a dream so *pretty*, a dream I'd want to *have*.

Was it possible to live in a *waking* dream? Was my *life* a transmogrified dream... and was there a spark of creativity still flickering inside me?

I don't want to be found

I feel free when I'm lost

I dropped the thought in the dust and proceeded on ahead, clinging to the walls and ducking under the office windows so Rex, or worse, Daniela, wouldn't notice me. Steathily, I'd creep into the gym, where many sixth, seventh, and eighth graders sat on the bleachers to play their silly games and engage in childish, loving banter.

I'd be among them, but that was a booby trap in waiting. One foot set up there, and the secrets of my past and present would tumble out. The school would be onto me. My dream of peace and freedom would *die* like the blackened roots of my old heart.

I seized the opportunity when everyone had an eye turned and ducked *behind* the bleachers.

I don't wanna leave now

Cause I'm in love with wanderlust

It was... cozy, back here. And a relief. The bleachers sheltered me, and when everyone flooded out for class, I snuck back out and blended right back in.

Out of sight and out of mind.

In class, the real vanishing act would play out, and the entire world fell still at my feet.

I'm afraid I can't explain myself

New seating charts were passed out, and I chose to sit at the *very* back, where I'd be least likely to be seen, least likely to be called on. Teachers and students had turned a blind eye to me, and didn't think of my reclusive behavior to be *abnormal*.

I sat at the back, obedient, but *silent*. A rule of my act: *silence* is a *virtue*, utilize it above all costs.

*There are people in life you can never trust, especially those that stab you in the back and pretend to have loyalty to you. Turn a blind eye to them, don't look back - they aren't worth your time.*

I'm not the girl I used to be

Some students began to side-eye me when I didn't talk on cue and just made gestures or grabs for objects silently. Who was this girl? Could she speak? What was hidden behind those chapped lips of hers?

I couldn't explain myself. Why should I? People would just use my words against me and never make me live it down. I'd be *shot* in the heart, and then the only person I'd blame for my death would be myself.

Trust *no one*. Only wordless was I true.

Is everyone in here insane?

Other times, I'd get stares when a teacher would ask for my answer, and I'd be straight to the point and blunt. I wouldn't correct, just nod. I wouldn't speak, just nod. If I disagreed, I'd shake my head.

Silence spoke volumes. Everyone thought I was crazy for my lack of speech. Teachers were too clueless to suspect anything amiss about me.

It felt so *unreal*. School felt *unreal*. Instead of being hell, it felt like I was in a... a *dream*.

When will I wake from this dream?

A *dream* that was *infinite* and never made any conclusive *sense*. A different outcome for every scenario, events never changing and remaining the same.

Somehow, I was pulling everything off *correctly*, and I could feel a *surge* in my blood. I had *power*.

I had the *power* to live my life as I wanted. To attend school, but to deceive and disappear, a thousand lies tethered to my core.

A voice in my head whispered to me, spoke to me, of the life I was now living. Not just any life, but a fictious wonderland I was slowly building piece by piece.

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream.*

And so the days begun to pass. November whizzed by, and for the rest of the month, I practiced and executed my craft, getting better and better at persuading everyone that I was just another plain girl in a busy, busy crowd.

He knows he can

She knows he won't

My report card signatures were approved consistently, without flaw, without shame. I had no shame. People still thought Father was my legal guardian when he had threatened to cut me in pieces and spill my blood all over his carpet the last time we had locked chestnut and ice onto each other.

Dodging the office became a fun game. Rex and Daniela could try to hunt me and ask me questions, but they wouldn't *catch me*.

Because by the time they saw me, I'd already have gone, out of sight and out of mind. Fragments of a dream that faded out and came with new fragments I'd scaffold and skirt right around.

Follow the sign

She left behind

I chased my freedom sitting through grating classes, acting normal and with obedience. Not speaking, just *doing*. *Providing* my beneficial existence.

Signs of life, clocking in for the day, out for the night.

School did *not* benefit my sleep schedule, however, and I was *still sleepless*.

Hell, how *hard* was it to get some damn sleep in this damn *cabin*?

All that's to him

Lost in a lie

But even with running on only five hours of sleep, and lines of purple under my eyes, people were still tricked and bamboozled by my *perfect* facade. All that was to them, a happy, elated oddball; all that was to me, carefully decked in a cake of five hundred thousand lies.

Lying was *easy*. Lying was *saving my life*. The truth about me was *safe*, and no one sought to lock me away in foster care, torture me, and starve me.

At the height of dreams, you believe you're on the top of the world. That you have *everything*. Dreams are *perfect*. They reflect us, bounce back at us, comfort us, and provide us with one of the greatest gifts of all: a miracle.

However, my story rarely comes with miracles, and in the case of this one, I'd come to learn that holding a flawless facade together was actually *damaging*.

Dying to live

Living to die

The stares increased, and teachers gave me a funny look when I was slow to respond in class or when I nearly stumbled up and down the stairs, blinking the crust of seductive sleep out from my eyelids.

I felt the pressure increase. Pointed stares demanding *why* I was sleepless in Pineshadow and not Seattle. People demanding *why* these changes were happening to me.

Asking me why I wasn't *normal*.

I'm afraid I can't explain myself

Truth was, *there was no such thing as normal in my life anymore*.

I was *tired*. Tired from having to lie for days, days that felt like weeks, months, *years*. I wanted time to forget I was here and let me live in *peace*.

You can hide your emotions, but what you can't hide is physical deterioration.

I'm not the girl I used to be

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I was *thin*. Not *super* thin and on the point of dying, but still *thin*, and my cheekbones had become more angular.

I was *starving*. And I looked *pale*.

Ghostly.

I was a *ghost*. A *shell* of what I used to be.

Is everyone in here insane?

I was alive. That was what mattered, wasn't it? I was starving, and thirsty, and forever alone without a single human to love me and care for me, but that was alright to lack. I could *manage*.

I could do this *myself*. Be helped? Nope, that's just asking for a ticket to *foster care*.

As the days went on, however, I knew people were growing *dubious* of me. The more strain I put on myself to hold this facade together, the more I felt it slipping.

That was impossible. Wasn't this a dream? A dream where you don't just visualize at night, but visualize with every waking move you make?

When will I wake from this dream?

This was *my* waking dream. And only in a waking dream, you have *control* and pick your *fate*.

What I couldn't deny was the fact that I was *cracking*. Cracking, thinking about what I used to have.

A home. A loving family, torn apart by illness, religion, corruption, and toxin. A soulmate, the other half of me, who matched me stride by stride and shared my ambitions of taking over the planet. The person I was going to kiss when I was thirteen. My first love, her second love.

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

All torn away, destroyed, shattered, and incinerated *thanks* to her. I'd been stabbed in my back, fed to the wolves, treated as a deviant, and threatened with certain death if I stayed behind.

I *missed* someone holding me, telling me it would be okay. I *missed* someone tucking me into bed, whispering that they loved me.

I *missed* when someone touched me, and in a way that made me glow, not in a way that indicated they were going to dig into my flesh to draw trails of blood.

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

That was *over*. It was *done*. I told myself to stop thinking about my past. It didn't matter anymore. It was *awful*. I wanted to *forget it*.

Who I was *now* mattered more than stupid, rotten childhood memories. I didn't live a happy life. I lived *my own way*. And I didn't want *anyone's* nose in my freaking business.

Despite my stubborn beliefs, my facade was made of paper and Sharpie. It cracked, piece by piece, and more light from the center dome of PMS was cast upon my soul.

The light showed the *real me*. Who I actually was.

I was *scared*. I was *vulnerable*. I *feared* that with a single move, police would have their hands on me. *Foster care* would chain me for the rest of my *lacerated* life.

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

The days kept passing and passing, and tears escaped my eyes, outlined in a thicker purple from no sleep. My hair, hidden in my hoodie, a mess no deft fingers could fix. I was exhausted.

My mind couldn't stop thinking about my trauma. My scars. The one everyone would see on my wrist if I didn't hide it with my jacket sleeve.

No teacher spoke up about me. No student reported me to a counselor or to Rex. Or to anyone. They seemed to be rather... *unsettled* by me.

That didn't matter.

However, it *did* matter to one person - my favorite person in the whole school at the time.

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

*It's just a dream*

On an afternoon of struggle, I'd trudged up the stairs to history, memories of the past dripping into my core and splitting my head in half, ripping into my vulnerable heart. Dark, visible purple lines were under my eyes, obtained in this morbid waking dream only I could live. I was sleepy, my face raw and pink from the overwhelming emotions, singeing my skin.

Earlier, I'd broken down in my isolated corner at lunch, thinking about the secrets me and Dani used to share.

Secrets we exchanged, of whispered promises that we'd kiss when we were older as we held hands, traced our cheekbones, and pressed our noses together. Thinking of our vows, the sacred woods we created from top to bottom. Our *world*, where we'd dominate and would *never surrender* in the middle of the fight.

Those dreamy, starry worlds were reduced to rubble, broken glass, and dried blood. There was not a thing I could salvage and hold to my heart. The precious gems, the memories, coated in honey, damaged beyond repair and toxic.

All of that time, my trauma remained on my back, at home - the cabin - or in my endeavors at PMS. The burdens, saddled on my back, following me wherever I went and never giving me a *second* to breathe. It was *impossible* to not think about the *past* - a past I was so *desperate* to forget and tear apart a million times.

Why *wasn't* I moving on? It was just everything else, the rest of what I had left around me, that changed. The place I attended, PMS, was still the same.

So were the traumatizing moments, retold in my nightmares and in front of me when sights became too familiar for me to handle.

I'd intended to head to class as normal, like I had been doing for days. I was just like all of the other kids, sans the fact that unbeknownst to them, I *wasn't* the girl I used to be. I wasn't the sweet Winterlyn with a creative mind and a love of a transgender musician, not anymore.

That girl? *Dead* to me.

Today was going to be no different.

But today *proved* to my splintering, tear-laden face, that things *weren't* going to remain the same as I brushed past Mr. Naecher on the verge of tears. His pale amber eyes grazed the back of my head. *Boring* into me.

"Winter...? Is something troubling you?"

I don't want to be found

I feel free when I'm lost

I *stopped*. I was *hesitating*.

*Frick, he'd seen right through me*.

Mr. Naecher *knew* I was keeping something under a veil. *Several* of them.

I couldn't *move*. A tiny, weak gasp escaped my lips, and I started trembling.

*I can't tell him can't tell him can't tell him can't tell him...*

"Winter?" Mr. Naecher prompted again, taking two steps closer to me. "Winter, are you alright?"

I don't wanna leave now

Cause I'm in love with wanderlust

*Get away from me!* I quickly dashed away from him and sat down, panting, and he decided better, leaving me alone from that point onward. I wanted to slap myself in the cheek for showcasing weakness the way I did.

I *needed* to get a grip, or else, I'd spend the entire class having a panic attack, my true colors breaking my picture-perfect facade, everyone's eyes demanding what the *hell* was slashing scars into me.

I was *alright*. I was *normal*. This was business as usual. Mr. Naecher had *nothing* to worry about. Out of sight and out of mind.

Nervously, I held my pencil and got to work, dragging the folds of my composure together. Just forty-five minutes. No more. *Just forty-five minutes*.

But a house of cards was a challenge to maintain - and time was infinitely a foe of mine. My exhaustion finally took its toll twenty minutes in, and my mask *fell*.

It landed on the floor, clattered, and *broke*. Pieces of me scattered off the assembly line and onto the killing floor.

I'm afraid I can't explain myself

Throughout the class, *everyone's* eyes were on me, and when we were doing busywork, Mr. Naecher looked *especially* worried for me.

Out of sight and out of mind my ass.

*Damn it! Get it together, you dummy! Don't give a person any hints that your personal life is in shambles!* I snarled at myself internally, gritting my teeth and clenching my pencil so violently that I thought the entire thing would snap in two.

Notetaking was wobbly, and my pencil, at times, moved erratically. My hands couldn't stop shaking. I was *terrified*, my heart pressing against my ribcage, *begging* to be let out of the stifling trap it was in.

I'm not the girl I used to be

I was *deeply* petrified of everyone *demanding* why I was behaving like this. Why I was anxious, shaking uncontrolled, my body and movements feeble and weak.

Why I was slowly fading out of existence.

Answers I would *never* give them. The key had been detached and swallowed and was a bitter pill decomposing in my stomach.

Is everyone in here insane?

Everyone was a *fool* for believing I had a kerfuffle going on. You guys had mental breakdowns at one point too, I'd bet my money on it.

Why were they acting like *I* was the first human to have an existential crisis? Why was *I* their problem?

I *wasn't* anyone's problem.

This was all part of the dream. Just a dream, just a *dream*. This *had* to be one big dream that someday, I'd wake up from, and my life would restore and reincarnate.

When will I wake from this dream?

Finally, the forty-five minute duration was over, and school was dismissed for the day. Hastily, I packed my things, rubbed my sore, stinging eyes and, cracking the stiff muscle in my neck, swung my backpack over my shoulders and headed for the front door.

"Winter! Wait!"

It was Mr. Naecher, and I reluctantly faced him, eyes dilating upon seeing how frantic he looked. He was rooted in *steep* worry.

He had spent *all of the class* worrying about *me*.

I'm afraid I can't explain myself

I turned away, facing the door. "No, please! Please just wait a second, Winter!"

Clenching my fists, I partially turned to face him. He sunk to his knees, getting onto my level.

"You know you can speak to me if *anything* is wrong, honey. I've seen you act atypically as of late... is there something you want to talk about?"

Oh *shrimp*, he *had* to hit me exactly where it hurt the most. I gave silence, the words not escaping my lips.

I took a step back, wary of my surroundings, checking to ensure no one was listening to our conversation.

Who told me to be honest with before? Promised I could speak to them if *anything* went awry?

Father. Daniela.

*They betrayed me*. My mouth didn't open, but my body quivered with fear hanging above my head.

I'm not the girl I used to be

"It's okay, Winter," Mr. Naecher assured me with a fond, uneven smile. I didn't relax, my shoulders only tense, and his expression became unreadable. He seemed to have realized that he wasn't going to get the answer out of my cold, dead hands.

I was *normal*. Why'd he care so much for me, just another one of his students?

Pulling my hoodie over my hairtips, I gazed at him. Oh, how I longed to tell him about what happened... my favorite teacher with a clear adoration of me, but he didn't prove that he could be trusted.

I could trust *nobody*. Nobody but *me*. Even people who liked me - betrayal hides behind kindness and sunshine, morphing into our greatest enemy. Everyone I didn't trust was my foe by default.

Is everyone in here insane?

Including Mr. Naecher.

So, at last, I spoke, but I drove my point home.

"I'm fine, Mr. Naecher. Thanks for asking. But focus on your personal life. Let me call the shots on mine."

When will I wake from this dream?

With that, and without awaiting his reaction (likely stunned), I walked out of the classroom and out of school.

That, I noted to myself, was *too* close of a call. Mr. Naecher had come *incredibly* close to unearthing the *real* me. My outer walls were too fragile, too brittle. I'd need to shore them up to double down on my personal security.

Today was a lesson, a painful, sensitive one - just because of the trauma that was pushing me into quicksand, into a swamp, in a deeper hole, didn't mean I had any reason to *crack* and show who I *actually* was.

Showing emotion now, in this infinite waking dream, would make things *trascend into a nightmare*. People would get ahold of my information and my secrets, track me down into the woods, evict me, and then, I'd be rehomed in foster care... and like millions of children, would never find the true light of a home ever again.

I couldn't *crack* again. I couldn't be sentimental with people at PMS - they'd piece together *everything*.

This puzzle wasn't one that was going to be completed. I would make *sure* of it.

Dreams change with the blink of an eye. I blinked my eyes, and everything around me kept changing, changing, and changing. I'd have new challenges to face with every snow day, every birdsong, and every sunrise. They were difficult and were *breaking me* - but if I were to substain myself and see the rays of the sun through the branches of the Piney Woods, I'd have to *refuse* to be broken.

This dream could turn into a nightmare, and I'd have to hold this balance together with tooth and nail. The skin of my teeth. *Everything* I had.

No more playing soft, no more *real me*. This facade was better and for *everyone's* good.

I was only in a dream... and *always* in a nightmare.

A few more weeks elapsed, and I started to shed my weaker facade and reinforced it with stone. I swallowed down my emotions, dreaming them away, and although this didn't fully qwell my daunting, devilish nightmares, strength returned to me in droves.

I buried my past deep down behind me - someday, I'd gain the strength to confront my memories stored in my box, Pandora's Box - but not yet. The box sat on a middle shelf now, solitary, and I'd feel its edges, too fraidy to take the leap and peer inside.

For once, I had some solace and shuteye, and the cabin began to feel like an actual *home*. Sleeping on the floor, light flooding in from the windows... strangely *peaceful*.

To an extension, the Piney Woods was my home, too. And I couldn't help myself gazing up at the clouds in the patches of sky, when it was frigid but not snowy. And when it snowed, I'd play outside for five minutes and then go back inside. Sorry, hypothermia, not today.

Barred from the outside, I'd sit, staring out the window, playing *Snowlight* and just visualizing myself standing in the midst of the winter season. Solitary, but unaffected by the cold. Used to it. The grounds were a powdery, crystalline white, and the trees were stripped bare of their leaves. The sun warmed my back, and icicles dripped with streams of water, coming into contact with the sun's light.

Mom said nature was my friend. I'd wanted to see if that was still the case, but I had a jacket not suitable for twenty-degree temperatures, hence the five-minute schedule. After that, it was back to warming up.

You might start to believe that I had a new world order and that everything from this point on would be the norm.

However, I swiftly ran into a *major* problem, a *troubling one*.

My Cheerios box was almost *empty*. And I was down to the last bottle of water, and the last packets of snacks.

I was running out of *vitality*. Running out of *food*. Running out of *water*.

This was *bad*.

Stress nibbled at me, and I scrambled to find alternatives before I'd lose the last of my supply in days.

I had five dollars, barely enough to afford anything at the 76. Should I even *risk* stepping in there again? Would someone instantly get suspicious of me and report me to police?

There was also the option of school food, but I'd heard that it was of bad taste. Then again, you gotta eat what you gotta eat to stay alive... but how would others react seeing me pop in a lunch line with many strangers I hardly knew? People knew me to bring my own lunch, or as of late, just not eat anything, starving myself on purpose so I'd eat in secrecy when I'd get home.

I looked at myself in the bathroom at school. I was *thin*. Really *thin*.

I was beginning to look like Mom before she died.

*Mom...* Hell's bells rung.

Mom had lost so much weight before she died. I was losing weight, and from the lack of sufficient food and water, I felt significantly *woozy*. At times, I was too dizzy to even stand, and I cried when stomach cramps became too unbearable.

Holy *hell*. Was I... was I going to *die*?

From my estimations... my food and water would run out in *five days*. *Five days*.

When those five days were up, I'd slowly start to die, my organs decaying and shutting down, and then I'd be just a forgotten memory.

I *needed* food and water, and I *feared*, *feared* in the cavernous depths of my heart, that I'd have to pull off something *gutsy*. Something only a feeble-minded, desperate *nobody* would do.

*Stealing*.

Stealing was *illegal*. If I got caught, I'd be arrested and put in custody. I'd be tried as a minor, since I was the legal age to be tried as one in Washington. I'd be forced into service, under constant supervision, or worse... *banished to foster care*.

Loveless. Reeking of despair and sadness. No hope. No salvation. I'd be sold to foster parents who'd just abuse me and belittle me, or never find anyone at all.

I could NOT go to foster care *under any circumstance*. I wouldn't let *anyone* send me there.

Over my dead body. I'd *fight* a person and commit a *murder* if it meant staying out of foster care.

My situation was dire, but I *still* wanted no one's help. So be it if it had to come down to stealing. I trusted not a *soul* on this freaking planet, and I wouldn't place my trust in anyone now.

Everyone hated me, desired to dispose of me, or would gain my trust only to use it to take advantage of me and destroy me. And after everything I fought through to get here, alive in this endless dream/nightmare, I wouldn't sacrifice my platform just for someone's willywort sake.

At PMS, I continued to earn glances near and far, of people confused by my straight-to-the-point, brusque mask. Appalled as to why I was nonverbal, reduced to silence with a stony face. Why I hid most of myself with a jacket, and why I was barely seen anywhere.

Answers too sordid to give, too monstrous to unleash. I talked to myself when no one was around - my only friend was myself, and I depended on myself to make a sustainable future.

After that brief interaction with Mr. Naecher, the latter never approached me to attempt another conversation and focused on teaching the class. He stopped worrying about me at long last, and it was a relief that I could concentrate on my work without being interrupted (minus the staring... can you guys just not?).

My other seven teachers were not concerned by my appearance or behavior, only requesting that I turn in my work, which I did. My grades remained afloat, as did my additional cover from the attendance lady, who continued to stamp report cards with Father's forged signature.

Things seemed like they wouldn't change at PMS outside the food situation, which, by now, I was desperate to find a solution for. I readied myself to steal from the cafeteria, carefully working on concocting a plan...

But that plan wouldn't come to be. Mid-January, I'd face the first of many trials when my school norm had a familiar wrench thrown in its path.

It was late in the afternoon, and there were about ten minutes left in history. I was finishing up my notes about world development, finishing off the last bullet point and putting my pencil down when the doorknob *rattled*.

I heard the sounds of keys jangling. Everyone turned toward the door.

The door opened. Boot heels clacked against the tile floor. A woman with fluffy latte-brown hair stepped into the room.

*Rex*.

Gulping, I straigtened my posture, and everyone's eyes but mine were on her.

"Hey, Matthew. I was gonna ask if you've read that email about-"

Suddenly, Rex stopped, and the room fell eerily quiet.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the principal *staring*.

Staring at *someone*. Blue eyes pierced my skull.

*Rex was staring directly at me*.

My mouth parted, and a tremor shook my stomach.

I turned to face Rex. We locked eyes. She looked absolutely *astonished*, and her skin had gone pale.

Then, her eyes darted to Mr. Naecher - or Matthew - and spoke words that made me want to *evaporate* into thin air.

"Can I speak with her, please?"

The entire *class* had their eyes on me in seconds. In this school, you obeyed the principal at all costs. Disobedience wasn't tolerated, and Rex was known to dish out strict punishments to those who opposed her.

I had no choice as I pushed myself up, packed up my things, and grabbed my backpack.

"Go on ahead, Winter. I'll see you soon," Matthew encouraged.

Feeling dread coil around my body, I followed Rex downstairs and into the office. She led me down a hall and into a room, where she closed the door.

"You can sit down, honey," she told me. I took a seat in a chair, silent and pure.

This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us

Rex stared at the floor, then at me, and her blue eyes were wide with shock.

"I just... I just can't *believe this*," she then exclaimed. "Winter, I thought you were *dead*! We searched for you for *weeks*, but we didn't locate you, and I... I... you were here the *entire time*... are you *okay*?"

Now it was my turn to be shocked, and my eyes dilated. Rex thought I had *died* after running away from home, never seeing me again until today, and a shiver coursed through my body. She thought I'd never live to see my twelfth birthday (which I spent being miserable, for your information - details aren't necessary).

She was *wrong* - I was *alive* and under her nose.

It's time to make our move, I'm shaking off the rust

What the principal didn't know, however, was that I was living by myself in a cabin in the woods, as classical as that tale is, and that I'd found my own way of survival that didn't require anyone's interference. I passed by records on the school thanks to the half-brained attendance lady and by laying low, out of her sight and out of her mind.

Rex took a step closer to me, analyzing my body, and she gasped, becoming frought with concern. I grew more uncomfortable, fidgeting in my chair.

"Oh, Winter... you've lost so much color... you look so gaunt, and pale... do you want me to get you something to eat?" She held out her hand toward me, inviting me to take it.

I've got my heart set on anywhere but here

I'm staring down myself, counting up the years

My gaze froze on that hand. I gasped, enveloped in flashbacks. Daniela pushing me outward, Father grabbing my hand and cutting into my wrist. Daniela giving me her hand after she abandoned me to save herself. She saved *herself*.

Everyone who held a hand toward me either *died* (Mom), planned to do *vile* things to me (Uncle Lewis, Father), or had simply used me and discarded me like jewelry. They tried me on (Daniela).

Why would Rex *differ*? She was just like everyone else. She'd give me that hand, then betray me, put me in the custody of Pineshadow police, and put me in foster care for my own wellbeing.

Steady hands just take the wheel

And every glance is killing me

That hand was *dangerous*. *Poisonous*. Another *trick* in a book of lies.

I growled, baring my teeth and gripping the pocket knife handle, stored in my pocket for safekeeping - I wouldn't *ever* go anywhere without it, even if it posed a risk - and alarmed, Rex immediately retracted her hand.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't think that would be triggering to you... but Winter, *please* understand. I wouldn't do *anything* to you. It's *okay*. You can trust me," she insisted, her hands wrung in front of her waistline.

How on earth did she expect me to buy *that*? Trust me, trust me, yada yada. People *always* told me that. They always *lied*.

Time to make one last appeal for the life I lead

Anger simmered in me, and I growled again, leaping up from the chair and pointing at her. Lies, lies, *lies*. I knew what Rex wanted to do to me. I wouldn't let her get away with it.

"Why **should I** even **trust you**? I *always* get told that, *Rex*. And those people **LIED**! I almost ***DIED*** because of those people, and you believe I'm gonna take what you say to **heart**?" I snapped, bitterly crossing my arms and spitting utter defiance. Rex gasped, horrified, and briefly put a hand over her mouth.

"What? *No*! Winter, I'd *never*!"

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving, but I go nowhere

"**Everyone** who gave me their heart and their hand *betrayed me*. They *tore* my entire life to **shreds**. I have **no reason** to trust you! You're just gonna stab me in the **back** and then ***discard me***. I'm not gonna fall for your **damn games**!"

"No! Winter, *please*! I don't want to *betray you*, I want to be your *friend*!" Rex insisted, and I growled. Yeah, right, as if that would sell me.

Put on a show of kindness, win me over, then kill me in the dead hours of the night. I was not going to be a victim of this charade any longer.

Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared

But I've become what I can't be, oh

"I am **relieved** you're alive! I thought you **died**! Living your last days depressed, unguarded, and frightened... I couldn't *fathom* you meeting a gruesome end. I searched for you *endlessly*, searched neighborhoods, searched the *park*, searched *everywhere*... I was so *mortified*. I didn't want you to *die*!"

I didn't respond, narrowing my eyes. Devoted, huh? Rex was speaking big words, and she'd need *way* more than pity and fear to persuade me that she was being genuine.

"Winter, I called the authorities when I learned you went missing. We had so many search parties... we didn't find you... but now-"

Stop and stare

You start to wonder why you're here not there

"You contacted ***POLICE***???" I demanded, my shout echoing around the room, and I took a step toward Rex, still clutching the knife, ready to fight if she turned the tables on me and revealed sinister motives under her belt.

She told *police* about me. They were *looking* for me. Rex had *exposed me*.

She *wasn't* to be trusted.

And you'd give anything to get what's fair

But fair ain't what you really need

Oh, can you see what I see?

"Winter, *listen*!" she pleaded, adding a worried, "I wouldn't have gone to police if I wasn't fretting over your safety. You're *twelve*, you can't live on your own yet! They dropped the search efforts back in late December. They *aren't* scouting for you!"

"Why should I **BELIEVE YOU**? You *blabbed me out*!" I retorted, hackles bristling.

"That's *not true*! I didn't want to have you *imprisoned*! Please, honey... hear me out..."

That only earned Rex another distrustful growl.

They're trying to come back, all my senses push

Untie the weight bags, I never thought I could

She waved her hands, begging for me to be calm for a minute, but I kept a snarl visible and my form on the offensive, tracking her movements. What did she have planned for me? What did she *want* from me?

"Daniela is going to be *relieved* when she hears you're alive. She has been worried *sick* about you for *weeks*. She... she thought you were dead, and I could hardly console her, oh..."

*Daniela*. Worried about me? Having a heart? That made me bristle, and I let out a deep snarl, hardening with *fury*.

That same Daniela didn't care when I was being tortured by my father. She stood by, idly, and *let everything happen*. She could *never* be absolved of the blame.

Steady feet, don't fail me now

I'm gonna run 'til you can't walk

"***SHE DOESN'T CARE FOR ME***! Don't you ***DARE*** bring that **heathen** *up*. She ruined **my whole life**, and she deserves to live with the guilt for the rest of *her own life*!" I roared, backing Rex into the other side of the room. She raised her hands to her chest, closing her eyes and pleading.

"O-Okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Winter! But please hear me out for just a *minute*, and then I'll let you go. I just want to explain..."

Something pulls my focus out

And I'm standing down

I backed away, warily eyeing her as she went into her mini fridge and pulled out a fruit bar and water.

"I have some food and water for you. Are you feeling okay right now, darling?" she asked softly, lowering her tone, but I cocked my head and didn't issue a response.

She had items I *needed*. Items *necessary* to preserving my life. But I couldn't trust her or anyone. Not unless I wanted my new life to be fed to the sharks prematurely.

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving, but I go nowhere

"Winter, please listen to me. I'm really concerned for your wellbeing - that's *why* I took you down here. It's my responsibility as principal and the mother of your girl-"

"*Ex*-girlfriend," I corrected coldly, and frazzled, Rex nodded.

"Ex-girlfriend that I look out for *you* as well! I couldn't *forgive myself* if I allowed you to starve and be deprived of *water* for the rest of your life. I want to *give* you a lifeline so you can survive! *Look* at yourself!"

Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared

But I've become what I can't be, oh

I growled. I was *aware* of my food crisis, *thanks*, and I didn't want your damn help. I was *fine* on my own.

But, between my denial and the fogs of my dream... I knew Rex was *right*. I did meet my reflection in the mirror, and I was *thin*, *super thin* and pale. My skin was losing its color, and purple lines were still under my eyes. I was *gaunt*, cheekbones popping out. I was hungry. And parched.

Yet I still had no *reason* to believe that Rex wasn't lying about caring for me. She had a *daughter* she cared about more than me. She could just give me these treats, these *precious* luxuries, then leave me to suffer like Daniela did. Like daughter, like mother...

Stop and stare

You start to wonder why you're here not there

"I have no reason to **trust you**," I spat with sharpened teeth. "Why? You're just giving me treats and then you're going to backstab me the way Daniela did. You're just making a *ploy* to lock me away in **foster care**! I don't *want* to be trapped in a sea of **lost children**! I don't want to be **lost**! I want a ***HOME***!"

Rex gasped. "*No*! Foster care is *never* a place I'd want to send you to!"

"I don't **want** your help, Rex! I'd rather **run away**, *dye my hair* or something, be a *vagabond*. But I'm looking out for **myself** even if means I have to freaking ***disappear***!"

And you'd give anything to get what's fair

But fair ain't what you really need

Oh, you don't need

At this moment, pain flashed across Rex's gaze, and she sped in front of me, her eyes brimming with tears...

...but also *love*. Love for no one in this school, in this space, for *me*.

I *paused*.

"Please **LISTEN**! Winter, I am **NOT** going to call the cops on you, nor will I place you in *foster care*. Our foster care system is *already* a *hellhole* as it is... and knowing you, I wouldn't put you in a place so bleak and hopeless...

"And I know you don't want anyone's help. Given what happened and what you now have to heal from... I don't *blame you* for being insecure and for having trust issues. You got **betrayed**. But you're *starving*. You're running on limited rations, seeing you've survived for some time after fleeing. Without proper nourishment... Winter, you'll *die* in a week! You *can't* keep living thinking that you can achieve everything by yourself..."

I felt my body slowly going catatonic. Rex... understood me? She didn't *want* foster care? She didn't *blame me* for the way I felt?

She was... *validating* me, and there were tears flowing out of her eyes...

A shooting star flashed across my vision, and the light dawned in me.

Rex *wasn't* lying to me.

She *cared* for me.

"Winter, I *promise*, promise with *all of my damn heart*, that this conversation will *stay* in this room between *us*. I will not tell **any soul** at PMS of what has been going on. I will **not** tell anyone about your personal situation, and I will *not* fault you for having to shirk some rules to protect yourself. You will *not* be punished under **any means in any book** for this."

I raised an eyebrow. That was a *lot* of promises... and she seemed certain, yet shaky.

She set her point firmly by crossing her heart three times. "Crossing my heart on those. I *promise* no one will know of this but us..." She sobbed, wiping away her tears. "I *love you*, Winter. I've loved you so much more than you could ever realize... and I will *never*, **EVER** let anyone hurt you the way Edwin did. You will not die in my hands, on this campus, or be hurt by *anyone*. I'm going to *protect you*."

(What you need, what you need)

"Do you *mean* that?" I asked, dropping my shoulders and tone, and Rex smiled.

"I will sacrifice my entire *soul* if it means making you happy, Winter. I just want to see you full of joy again, like you were before... I will do *anything* that you ask. But please let me help you get some food and water. You're in pain, and this will help ease some of it."

Finally, Rex had crossed my threshold. She wasn't *lying*; she was being purely honest, and from the way she was shedding so many tears, crossed her heart, and made those promises... her admissions had *convinced me*.

She cared for me. She *loved me*. *Validated me*.

In my fight for survival... I *wasn't* alone.

And doing what I could have done in return for her kindness, I explained *everything*, showed her my scar, and clarified the full extent of my hardships and trials. I revealed to her where I was, and in exchange for that, she gathered pictures and information relating to Father so she could file a warrant for his arrest.

The more I talked, the more I felt *comfortable*. *Secured*. With Rex, I could be open... she was the *only one* in the school I could trust. She had my faith.

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving, but I go nowhere

When Rex was finished, she held her phone by her hips. "Thank you, Winter. With your information, I should be able to report Edwin to the police. He *will* repent and suffer for what he's done to you, and I'll go to hell and back several times to make sure he's behind *bars* for the rest of his grotesque life. Now, are you okay if I give you my phone number? I'm not going to use it to contact you - but use it to message me if you need anything."

I nodded. "That'd be appreciated, Rex."

"Okay. I have a friend that can give you the items you *need*. Clothing, food, drink, and more. She's elderly and works at a donation center, and I'm sure she'll help you - she loves donating to kids."

Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared

I've become what I can't be

*A donation store*? Rex was a *hero*. She was a *light*.

I tore into the fruit bar and drank the water, part of me ascending back into regular form, and I tapped my feet with excitement.

A person - and not a stranger, but someone with a golden heart and tenacity like no other - had come to my level. She *saw* what I *saw*.

"Alright. Thanks."

Oh, do you see what I see?

The bell rang, and with a farewell nod to Rex, I grabbed my backpack and slipped out of school, just the faintest of a smile on my lips.

I no longer had to worry about dying in the woods, or having to cope with my trauma on my own.

Some people *could* be trusted - you just had to discover if they'd bleed just as much as you'd bleed for them in turn.

I played risk and reward sacrificing my secrecy to Rex, flipping a coin to decide where my fate would lie next. Heads, I'd gain new benefits, resources to endure subsequent battles, or tails, being betrayed for a third time, stripped of my fresh start on life, and sent behind the rusted, torturous bars of foster care to be derided and shamed by many unloved children.

The coin had landed on heads. I would prosper for years to come.

True to her word, Rex's friend delivered *immensely*. So immensely that if I told you the kind of stuff I was receiving and being gifted nearly every week, your jaw would *drop* to the floor in the most unhinged matter *ever*. Believe me when I say that what I'm about to talk about is *unreal* - but it was *fully real*.

Rex's friend - who prefers to remain anonymous, for the sake of her privacy - gifted me packages and boxes of essentials at odd hours, either when I was out of the cabin, or even when I was inside, but not disturbing me or trying to prod me. She left me to it, but gave me goods, the *arcane* items, the *tools* I had *pleaded* for in my haunted dreams.

I got many new shipments of food - *Fresh from the local Haggen*, as the notes attached to the boxes would say. Speaking to my soul with my childhood grocer. Bless.

I got fruits, such as bananas, apples, and grapes among others, savoring their different taste and providing my stomach with much-required energy and nutrition. For other options, I got vegetable broths (not much there, but it's kinda like soup?), pre-made items, and even, at times, some desserts, like cupcakes (how much was this woman gonna splurge on me???).

Cereals, muffins, cinnamon rolls... oh *heaven*. *Heaven* was real again.

Rex's number was insanely helpful, too, as I texted her with requests and had those requests delivered within forty-eight hours - and staying honest with her word, she never texted me back. To this day, I thank her for being respectful of my boundaries.

It didn't just start with food. I also got boxed milk and juice besides water, adding for additional fluid (how I missed you, calcium). My body was *loving* this variety, and the dizziness faded, allowing me to think with a clearer head.

My throat stopped being so scratchy and sore, and I was buzzing with boundless energy, like the old me... but also not like the old me at the same time.

Soon, I also got brand new clothes, including a purple coat with darker trimming and a faux-fur hood that I'd wear in the colder weather, rolling around in the snow and embracing *Snowlight* and the winter season for what it was: unadulterated *bliss*.

I also got a white long-sleeve shirt with pure black sleeves and a pink collar. An odd combination of colors that I'd wear with the utmost pride, as you guys know.

In addition to the shirt, I obtained a few plain bedtime shirts and shorts, making sleepy time more comfortable and less sweaty.

These bare necessities shored up my vitality and my heart, and I gained back the weight I had lost. I popped full of color, escaping death's doorstep. I beat *death* to the curb, and he slunk back into the sewer where he *belonged*.

Score one for Winter.

I never got to meet Rex's friend, as she always showed up when I wasn't paying attention or was investigating something of my own volition. She was a figment of my dream, wispy like a ghost, and gone like a ghost.

Part of what makes a waking dream a waking dream. I didn't question it - why break the dream when the dream gave you your home and everything you were growing to love? I *loved* my dream.

And I wouldn't walk back on it.

I familiarized myself with the Piney Woods and where everything was located. I tested the broken tree adjacent to the cabin, landing (not) neatly on the roof, where I got a view of my surroundings.

Trees. Lots of trees. Thickets. Lots of thickets. Pine needles.

I stand by my opinion that climbing a higher tree gave an overall better view of the woods.

North of the cabin was the stream, which I used to wash out my hair. It wasn't enough water for a full bath, and I didn't want stream water in my skin... we're not going in the direction of how *clean* that water is. Still, my hair looked a little better, and now that I was rewarded with a brush and hair amenities, I kept it cut and cleaned.

The shine returned, and my hair was back to being unique and funky like it always had been.

For general baths, I waited for the rain and reluctantly stood outside in it. Let's say I was considerably itchy afterward. God. I hated the rain, but at least it kept me somewhat clean.

I found patches of huckleberries just a bit up from the stream, also supplying me with additional food. They were tart or sweet, but worthwhile. I just needed to avoid eating too much, or I'd get a stomachache.

Which I'd then remedy because Rex's friend sent me assorting medicines and pads. Right, my period would start any day now; I'd come of the age to have my first one, and being prepared was a *must*. We will not elaborate on those details.

I'd find my way to patches of flowers in the woods, logs, open spaces, and... the *clearing*.

The clearing where I once stood with Dani, and she assisted me in creating our woods. Seeing the clearing now, a sour, poisonous taste lingered in my mouth. Acidic.

I turned away from the clearing and would head back to my cabin. Another day, I'd come back.

Other gifts I received were body care essentials and home supplies as well. I got several sets of comfy pillows and blankets, which made for a snug makeshift bed, and I also got some other antiques to place on my shelf next to the box.

Clay flowers, shiny stones, marbles, fake plants.

A key so I could lock the cabin door and be left to my eternal solitude in A minor.

A rug for my boots to grace when I'd make my way back home from trips and school.

Additional school supplies, and an art set - though I wasn't even that great at art? Oh well, I appreciated the gift anyway.

Dermatology kit! Goodbye pimples and zits.

Alright, that's enough of the gifts. You get the gist. Let's get back to other subjects.

I began to flourish in school, keeping up my out of sight and out of mind-ness to perfection, clocking in and back out, turning in work and getting things done. For a meek, traumatized kid, I was moving *mountains* (coughs in delusional).

Despite the lingering traces of boredom in the Piney Woods, I had a phone and could kill time playing games or finding dumb stuff on the internet (avoiding Twitter still, that's just a hellhole in wait).

The last traces of winter disappeared with the light of the morning and afternoon sun, and spring blossomed in Pineshadow. Grasses sprung up, and colorful flowers sprouted all around in the woods, including more Pacific bleeding hearts, which I'd check on and smooth gently.

Bleeding hearts were a *deep* blessing to any McCormick. Not to Father, but to Mom and I, they signaled *change* ahead. *Positive* change.

What change? I'd soon come to get an unforseen pathway to an emotion I thought had been *long* lost inside of me.

Things weren't *exactly* picture-perfect after the conversation with Rex. See, I had the cabin being a home, and I could live more comfortably now that I wasn't on the edge of death and being persecuted or chased by anyone with malicious intent. I had food, drink, hobbies, strength, and *cover*. A person (two, counting Rex's friend) I could trust.

I should have been living *happily*.

But there was an issue, staring directly back at me in my reflection, that made me *stiffen* with apprehension and transformed my vivacious waking dream into a *macabre nightmare*.

*Myself*.

Every time I stared back at myself in a mirror, when I was alone and away from prying eyes at school, I saw *me*. A vagrant forced to conform to this new hideaway lifestyle after fleeing from home with half a life and burdensome memories in tow.

Tired, ice-blue eyes. Loose, messy sandy-brown hair worn. Pale skin with bones trying to poke through from the underweight.

When I saw *that pitiful creature* in the mirror, I saw the *nightmare* and the *suffering*.

I only saw who I was the moment I lost my entire life. I lost my old future. I lost all of the *then*.

My romance, a love so sacred and *beautiful*. The person I *loved*, snitching on me. The father who'd promised to always listen to me, to let me grow the way I wanted without religion. Who accepted me and raised me when pneumonia and lupus had claimed Mom.

Both betrayed me. They had blood on their hands.

What they created was a cracked, cleaved, and mauled young girl. The *me* I was trying so hard not to be.

I couldn't separate the *image* of that from me. I didn't *want* to think about what happened on that November night. It was all dead to me. *Gone*. Yet I still saw the reflection of it when my transparent twin came to meet me in the mirror.

I *needed* a change. I needed *something* to tear me away from the depression and to bring a flare anew.

How would I achieve that change when I didn't want to throw away what made me, in my eyes, iconic?

I got that answer a few days after I thought of it, when a box was left at my doorstep. A small one, and I unboxed it eagerly.

It was a set of *hair dyes*, a note attached to the very bottom.

*You told Rex that you'd do anything to hide yourself away, and you mentioned dying your hair. While you might not agree... I'd thought I'd give you this in case you wanted to try something new.*

*Whoa*, I was *not* expecting my rant about disappearing to become so... *relevant*.

I hadn't dyed my hair before. Father would have rinsed the dye out forcibly, *power-scrubbed* it out of my hair if I attempted to color it. Coloring it anything that wasn't natural would taint my image.

Something that wasn't *natural*... something that *broke* comformity, what was uniform...

A familiar swelling overtook my heart, and I pulled the kit onto my lap. Every assortment plucked off the rainbow, plus additional colors on the spectrum.

So *unique*.

An idea struck.

I didn't have to change my appearance to deviate from the bad - I just had to add a splash of *color* to banish what was morally gray.

Time is fleeting, you say

When I grabbed your hand, you turned away

Putting on a set of plastic gloves, I picked out a set of four different colors and looked at myself in a small mirror, facing the haunted, battered, and scarred me. In a moment, that would be gone and changed to a different tune.

I picked up the first two colors - pink, selected because of the pink bleeding hearts, Mom's favorite flower and a choice she would approve of.

And blue, like the streaks in the night sky that gave a blanket to the stars I had adored since I was little.

Applying the dyes into my hands, I slowly rubbed them into my hair tips, where I wanted them to go... and piece by piece, the ghastly depictions in the mirror crumbled away.

We chased after the sun, and the fading light of day

We watched the broken shards slip away

When the dyes were added to my hairtips, I picked up the other two dyes I had selected - silver and pure black. Silver, because of how the stars and moon glimmered silvery in the night, and black, a color Father hated, but I loved for standing out in contrast to brighter colors.

Undoing the band that held the back ends of my hair together, I rubbed the dyes in as well, silver on top, then the black after it; when that was done, I re-applied the band.

The dyes were added. They were permanent, so they could never truly fade - they were now a part of me forever. I glanced up at the mirror and *gasped*.

I was an *entirely different person*.

Hold me close, 'til I hit the ground

Heaven knows that the only sound

Instead of this haunted, desolate, sobbing girl with hundreds of broken skies and memories around her, there was this girl, a *unique*, *resilient* tomboy, studying her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair was *wild*, pink and blue on the front, silver and black in the back. Four choices she made *wisely*.

I looked *beautiful*. Nothing but *beautiful*. It was like this was *always* meant to be my dream look - the *perfect* me.

Is my heartbeat, like a hummingbird

Hear my heart beat like a hummingbird

I *smiled*, holding my cheeks, making faces, and *leaping* into the air.

"*Yes*!"

Like a hummingbird

My heart kicking and wilding, I jumped around the cabin for joy, landing in my makeshift bed, head up. Okay, Winter, pipe down. Your dyes would smear.

I was growing dizzy from this *fuzzy*, *warm*, and... somewhat familiar feeling? What *was* this? Elation? No, elation felt different.

I was feeling elation *and* something else. I was *excited*. *Optimistic*.

I'd broken free of my old image at long last, and my world was *brimming* with *life*. *Color*.

I wouldn't be able to contain my hype in the cabin, and proudly wearing my long-sleeve shirt, tailored to be made for me, I stepped outside.

The cool, spring air hit my face, soothing me with its tranquility, and I inhaled a deep breath.

Hold me close, 'til I hit the ground

Heaven knows that the only sound

I didn't know where my heart was aiming to take me, but it was *pumping* blood. The world seemed more vivid, more *green*... and the woods seemed friendlier, more inviting.

I leapt onto the broken tree and onto the roof of the cabin, balancing better than I did before, and I stood on top evenly, gazing out at the woods around me.

Is my heartbeat, like a hummingbird

Hear my heart beat like a hummingbird

"This is *beautiful*," I murmured to myself, pressing my hands to my head and seeing nothing but endless *promise* ahead.

Why had I become so bubbly after dying my hair? What *was* this glorious feeling that was making me come back to *life*?

Like a hummingbird

I had *zero clue*, but I jumped back down onto the broken tree and onto the ground, landing effortlessly, and I began to stroll through the woods.

Butterflies flew over my head, and sunlight filtered through the treetops, budding with new leaves. Petals fell around my head, making me sneeze (argh POLLEN). This was *peaceful*.

*Serenity*... when was the last time I even *knew* serenity?

I kept walking, breathing in this peace, this *new* me, eyes closed, peacefully dreaming away...

Man, it would be *amazing* if *everyone* saw just how-

*Wait*.

I blinked, my heart stopping.

*No one* could admire me. I didn't even *want* admirers! Why did I even *think* of something like that?

Fear struck my heart, and I sunk to my knees.

In the process of dying my hair, I'd forgotten my motto - out of sight and out of mind.

These splashes of color *clashed* with that. People would see that, now that I had no need to wear a hoodie with the warmer weather. It'd be abnormal if I kept wearing it.

"No! I'm such a dumbass... now everyone's gonna be onto me..." I muttered, despondently placing my chin on my knees.

My happiness was short-lived. How could I remotely be happy with my new style now that I'd be drawing attention onto myself? I just shot myself in the *foot*.

*Why are you like this...* I thought.

Suddenly, a *bzzz* yanked me out of my thoughts. I glanced around. *What* was that?

Then, I peered at the ground in front of me. "Oh my gosh!" A hand went on my mouth.

But no matter how I try

You still won't look me in the eye

It was a hummingbird, a rufous male, with coppery-brown feathering and a white chest and eyerims. His chest had shimmering red plumage, but it looked dull. Part of his wing was stuck under a small rock, and he looked tired and *lifeless*.

*Bzzz*.

Forgoing any other thought of school and tribulations, I took action, placing his small body onto my palm and then slowly raising the rock. "Sssh... you're okay, little buddy," I whispered, stroking him on his head and back feathers. How long had he gone without feeding? I had no idea, but I needed to get him to a delectable flower and *fast*.

Out of the corner of my right eye, I saw a *miracle* - a Pacific bleeding heart. Besides being Mom's favorite flower, they were also flowers hummingbirds were *very* attracted to.

Are you afraid you'll fall into the darkness that's inside?

Whilst my arms are open wide

*Thank you, Mom,* I said as I rushed the small rufous to the base of the flower. He sensed the nectary treet and planted his beak fully into the center of the flower.

In just a mere minute, he had been replenished and *soared* back into the air, whizzing around me and *buzzing*.

He'd *revived* from the brink of death, looking jubilant as ever.

"You're welcome, pal," I stated, guessing he'd now fly off and leave me alone.

Hold me close, 'til we hit the ground

Heaven knows that the only sound

But the hummingbird didn't fly off, circling around me and flitting here, there, and back *again*.

He was full of *life*. So lively and *beautiful*, a heaven-sent bird he was.

Just moments ago, he looked *dead*, barely alive and *breathing*, hanging on by a *thread*. Now that he was saved and had replenished himself, he had been *reborn*.

Reborn and reawakened with a *better* future.

That was when I *realized it*.

Is my heartbeat, like a hummingbird

Hear my heart beat like a hummingbird

That hummingbird had regained something *lost* to him. He had renewal, a chance to *believe*.

Like me, he was on the brink of death. Then, I'd found recovery when I thought it was gone.

Not just recovery...

The key to my survival wasn't just guts, or strength, or fighting to the freaking finish.

Like a hummingbird

It welled in my heart and *thrummed* as fast as my feathery friend's heart.

I had to have *hope*.

Like a hummingbird, I had to *hope*.

All I had to do to survive was to *hope*.

Like a hummingbird

Following the male rufous, I ran into the air and for a moment, *soared* off the ground and *flew*.

I had *wings*. I had *hope*.

I could *fly* again.

I laughed, chasing my hummingbird partner as the sun set in front of us. This was *it*! What I had felt after dying my hair, accomplishing my permanent deviation from my old life whilst retaining what I loved, was feeling my *hope* come back.

I had *hope* for the future. That it'd be brighter, not charred by damage and dust. I'd dug deep and found fool's gold for so long, but I'd finally struck the diamonds.

They were deep in my heart all along. It took an animal close to it to *find* the beauty within.

The trees thinned in front of us, and I danced around patches of daisies, lupines, and yarrow, flopping in the grass, and the hummingbird led me on.

We reached the edge of the woods, and I sat down, staring at Pinelake Park. The sky was overtaken in orange, pink, and red hues, and it was a *beautiful* view.

A *promising* view. I was hoping for a better tomorrow; so was my friend, as he perched on my palm.

"Hope's an interesting thing, isn't it?" I asked him, and he *bzzed* in response.

He was my new friend. A sweet, little rufous. A *rufie*.

Rufie. A short, but simple name for the little birdie that taught me to have hope again.

Time is fleeting, you say

When I grabbed your hand, you turned away

"I hope I can heal from all of this one day... what do you say to that, Rufie?" I asked my newly-christened pal.

Rufie *bzzed* for a second time, now perching himself on my shoulder. That was the only answer I needed to know.

Someday, I'd heal from this trauma. But this day was a small step in the right direction, said the hope in my heart.

We chased after the sun, and the fading light of day

We watched the broken shards slip away

Later, night fell, and the last of the sunset transitioned into a pure black sky. As crickets began their late-night song, and as a few owls hooted in the distance, I made my way back into the cabin and locked the door.

Finally. Finally, after weeks, I had *hope* again. *Hope*.

A *beautiful* thing.

Rufie had flown off, likely to where he was nested. I likely wouldn't see him again after today, but meeting him had *impacted me*, and he carried the tiniest piece of my heart on my back.

Nature was *healing*, a little for me at least. Time to sleep off the day and build my hope of a brighter, better next day.

Fluffing up my pillows, I shut off the lights and curled into my blankets, steadily falling asleep to the sound of the wind crying over the leaves outside.

Hours after, my eyes blinked awake. The air was cozy, warm, and inviting, and I felt an arm snake around my waistline, pulling me closer to someone. One who wore finely-stitched suits and was loving behind his strict mask.

I was on a sofa - the one in the living room - with *Father*. He stared blankly at the TV, smiling, frozen in time; I leaned up against him, drinking in his comfort.

It was relieving to have him by my side. He'd promised to protect me and carry on Mom's legacy, to let me grow into my own person. He had his ways and his methods, but he'd *never* stop loving me. Not for a second. I was his everything.

We were going to be forever.

The next thing I knew, a knife was plunged into the center of my throat, then ripped out, and I fell on the ground, writhing. Blood rushed out in a *torrent*, staining the carpet red. I glanced up.

That wasn't *Father*. Father had demonic red eyes, angered creases, and a bloodstained pocket knife in his hand.

He spoke no words, only glared at me with malice.

I was a *jackass*. *Again*. Always the jackass and never learning my lesson.

*Things weren't going to go back to the way they were*.

Dying gasps were squeezed out of my body, and then, another person stepped up to me in cute black boots.

She stared down at me with callous amber eyes.

"I didn't know that it was going to escalate..."

She swung her boot at my face, and screaming, I prepared to fade from the earth forever.

I woke up with a start in my makeshift bed, panting, sweating, and frantically checking my throat. Had it been slit? Was I going to die?

There was no blood, no wet spots, and no bloody pocket knife. No fear, no pandemonium, and *no Father or Daniela*.

I was just *dreaming*. It was just a *dream*.

"It was just a dream. I'm alone," I whispered, wrapping myself in my blankets protectively and reaching for my knife, tucked by my pillow in case of an emergency. I shook for minutes, glancing around to ensure that I was *alone*. *Alone*, with no one, and *isolated*.

Not a creature stirred, and the only sounds I heard were the trees rattling in the wind outside.

That wasn't *real*. That was just a dream. I was okay.

How could I be *okay*? I was *still* haunted by my past when I had *fled* from it. It shouldn't have kept mattering or living rent-free in my head, where it could snake around me and suffocate me until I surrendered and went insane.

I *hated* Father. He wasn't my dad anymore. He didn't even deserve to be called my dad. He was just *Father*.

A cruel, wicked *Father*, at that.

And Dani? There was no Dani anymore. She was *Daniela* - a conniving traitor who easily threw me under the bus to be ran over, all so she could save her own hide.

Minus Rex and her friend, and one hummingbird in the mix, I was *alone*.

"Forget it," I muttered, rolling back on my pillows and shutting my eyes, fidgeting in my bed for fifteen minutes, but kicking off my blankets each time, sweating in my pajamas and head too disturbed to settle.

Sleep was not the cure for tonight. I needed fresh air and time to clear my head.

Getting dressed, I stored the knife in my pocket and headed out into the night, tasting the cool air and sighing.

I'd walk for a little bit, burn off the energy spurned from stress, and then fall back asleep. Yeah, good plan. Solid enough.

I set off, carrying myself forward. I didn't know *where* I was headed, but that was up to my heart to decide.

G-Get me, g-get me

(Oh, oh)

The trees grew thick around me, and I halted, staring up through the branches.

Specks of white broke up the sky. *Stars*.

Outer space

Hard to save

My imaginary *friends*, once a major part of my youth. Were they going to guide me to what was right, in this darkness that blighted my woodland home?

*I should follow the stars,* I thought.

Outer space (Ooh)

(Ah, ah)

Following stars, like I had followed the flames in my *Ghost Spores* dream that helped me to realize that religion didn't define me - my choices did.

Was I still pure and straight like an arrow wordless? Or was there something *more* I was meant to be?

Outer space

Hard to save

(Come get me, come get me)

My walk galloped into a speedwalk, then into a light jog. My heart was the compass leading me *north*.

North. In the Piney Woods. What was north, and where was the place I was internally *longing* to be?

Come get me, come get me, come get me

Come get me, come get me, come g-get me

Trees thinned in a blackened blur, and pine needles crunched underfoot, snapping with my weight. I passed by a patch of blue huckleberries, only blue thanks to the starlight shining on them.

Above me was a hole in the branches, and I saw *more* white flecks. *More stars*. I was definitely heading the right way.

Come get me, come get me, come get me

Come get me, come g-get me, come g-get me

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded in-between pants, and I hurried my pace. I was straying farther from the cabin, in the middle of the night, but this adrenaline rush I got was *pleasing*.

Chasing the stars was building a *rhythm* in me. A *rhythm*, striking a *match* to a memory I had forgotten in the crosshairs, in the midst of it all.

Come get me, come get me, come get me

(Though you're not far away)

(You're still in outer space)

*Follow the rhythm.* A motto so *ancient*, but so *special*, so *woven* into my culture.

There was no beach, no Heartbeat Point to show me the connection I had to nature. The stars were *leading me* to where I needed to be. I *had* to obey them; what did I have left to lose?

Come get me, come get me, come get me

(Can't you come get me?)

(I'm not that hard to save)

I steadied my face, aiming faster and higher with each stride, seized by the charm of stars and nature. The trees seemingly parted, shifting out of my way to allow me to run through, and dapples shone on the dirt, painting images of leaves and shapes reflected in the lens of a kaleidoscope.

This was *beautiful*. This was *home*.

Come get me, come get me, come get me

(I don't leave easily and I can shock your brain)

I was *hoping* for a miracle, bathed in this holy starlight, cloaked in the darkness. *Just keep running,* I encouraged myself.

The stars pointed me north, and north was where I'd head.

Come get me, come get me, come get me

Take me or seize me

I won't come willingly

The trees thinned, and I darted through a small mouth, arriving at the place the stars had destined for me. A place *filled* with long grasses, logs, and open space where there were *no trees*, but fungai and flowers at the edges.

A wide circle composed this clearing, and with the open space, you could glance up and see the *stars*.

*Millions* of white, milky stars dotting the black sky, *beautiful*, *shining* crystals that when given a chance would reflect in the irises of your eyes.

It was putting me in a *trance*.

The stars had led me to this clearing, but *why*? Why did I need to be here?

Then, the trance snapped, and I realized with horror that I went to *me and Dani's clearing*.

"W-What? Why am I here? No! I don't want to be reminded of *her*! Anywhere but here!" I balled my fists, stared at the ground, and shut my eyes, tears threatening to leak out of the edges.

Dang it. Dang it, dang it, *dang it*. The stars had led me on, and led me to a place I *never* wanted to visit.

The clearing where Dani and I crafted mountains, woods, starry animals that danced when the night sang the loudest. The clearing where we hid our dreams and shared our biggest wishes.

It was a dead clearing now. Dead dreams, dead hope, dead *everything*.

Why had I come here? I was such an idiot. Nothing was here for me... or that was what I was trying to convince myself of.

Ploddingly, the blackness swirled into cyan and dark blue skies, mists all around me, clawing high into the sky, and breaking up these *vibrant* new colors were white batches of stars. So close you could *feel* them... feel their *warmth* and their *light*.

A sweet, starry, and *spacey* voice faintly echoed in the distance too... and a *familiar one*.

*Is that... is that Veela? I'd recognize her anywhere...*

*I'm not that hard to save*

*I don't leave easily*

I'd never heard Veela's voice that much outside of *Supercell*... but I had taken a chance to listen to a few of her other songs. This tune sounded similar to one I'd heard about space and the stars...

She sounded *gorgeous*. *Ethereal*. Heavenly. Was this *heaven*?

"Am I in heaven, Veela?" I asked, walking forward in these starry lands.

Starry fields. Star*scapes*.

I was among *starscapes*.

"Winterlyn."

*And I can shock your brain*

*Take me or seize me*

*I won't come willingly*

I gasped. *What?* I knew that sweet, honey-laden, compassionate voice... I knew it *so well*. It had been years, but it was still so raw and holy to me...

"*Mom*?"

"I'm here, Winterlyn."

Turning around, I saw *Mom*, her form now starry and glittering a transparent cyan. *Mom*.

A person I'd thought I'd *never* see again. My heart leapt into my *throat*.

"**MOM**!" I screamed, running into her, and she wrapped me in a *tight* hug. I sobbed into her ghostly body, which felt whole and sturdy. Mom was *here*. Mom was in her new *home*. She was permanently healed of all her ailments and could live happily with the stars...

*Though you're not far away*

*You're still in outer space*

I let the tears fall from my eyes, meeting my mother's own, still glowing cerulean and with many sparks of life emitting from them.

"Mom... I don't know w-what to say, I've... I'm twelve now, and I-"

In what way could I even explain to my mother everything that happened since she died? My secrets before her passing? Me being a lesbian? Studying my own gender? Breaking rules? Dating Daniela, being disowned by Father, everything since then?

*Can't you come get me?*

*I'm not that hard to save*

"Sssh, darling," Mom assured me, ruffling my hair. "I am aware of everything that has transpired since you last saw me. You have always remained my beautiful daughter no matter what path you have chosen in life. You've made me *so* remarkably proud of you, and I am *so* proud you've found your way and listened to your heart..."

I leaned up against Mom, relaxing and peering across the starscapes, which was an infinite cloud of cyan, blue, purple, and black. Ominous beyond the safety net.

There was no telling what was beyond those stars... and my future.

What did my future hold, anyway?

*I don't leave easily*

*And I can shock your brain*

"Mom, I don't know what my future's gonna look like," I admitted, my tone mousy, and I buried my face into her blouse, relishing in the soothing aura she provided.

"Nobody can predict their future. Your future will be bright if you just listen to what is true and right," Mom responded, smiling, and I felt more uncertain at her words.

"But I don't know what's true and what's right! I could be listening to myself and fall into a pit... just look at what happened with Father and Daniela!"

*Take me or seize me*

*I won't come willingly*

"Winterlyn. You had no idea they were going to do that to you, and you couldn't have a chance to foresee the outcome. You got unfairly robbed of everything you loved, and there's no denying the world has been unnecessarily cruel to you, just a twelve-year-old seeking to find her belonging... but you *must remember*: everything you *need* is stored in your *heart*."

I gripped Mom's blouse, fearing she'd leave at any moment and that I'd be fending for myself alone again. No! I didn't know what I *had* in my heart. I felt things, I acted on impulse. Following my heart had led to success... but heartbreak, hardship, trial, and *error*.

"I... I don't wanna be reckless and get myself killed! I don't even know what I'm doing half the time! I just... I just want an actual family again. I'm alone... and I hate being alone... but I can't *trust anyone*!"

*(G-get me, g-get me)*

*(Outer space)*

Mom kneeled down next to me, meeting me eye-to-eye, and she brushed my forehead, giving me a kiss on it. The most *overwhelming*, numbing love flooded in my veins, sweeping me off the feet, and I felt myself levitate off the ground. I felt *calm*. *Attached*.

Listening to Mom as she spoke saccharine, cerulean seas scanning the great yonder. Nothing more potent than a mother's lioness love of her own daughter.

"Even when you believe you are, Winterlyn... you are *never alone*. You have people who desire to keep you safe, and like me, you have connected with nature, from animal to plant. Nature is your friend and your ally... and so is what you hold dear in your heart. When the days are the most bleak and stormy, there will be a spark that will dispel the darkness, and joy and passion and love will return to the world..."

*Though you're not far away*

*You're still in outer space*

My mouth curved in the shape of a small donut, and like the morning sun, understanding shone in me.

Mom was right - this was a battle I wasn't going to fight by myself. In my dreams, I was still connected to the person who, against all odds, would love me for who I was and had vowed to protect me - no death could do us part.

Mom pointed out into the great beyond, her hair taken up by a gentle breeze, and the melody of Veela's intergalatic vocals continued on, harmonious and soothing as ever. I sighed, feeling peace take ahold, and my shoulders went slack.

*Can't you come get me?*

*I'm not that hard to save*

"Do you see what's out there?" Mom prompted, and I squinted, seeing... *blackness*.

Cyan swirls. Stars. Nothing... that exciting.

"No..."

"Look harder, my dear. Remember what you're living in... remember, remember..."

*I don't leave easily*

*And I can shock your brain*

What was I living in? A cabin. What on earth did the *cabin* have to do with this?

I thought of the cabin, still noticing nothing change.

*What am I living in... a cabin. Not some stuff out of a dream- oh.*

*Take me or seize me*

*(Hard to save)*

*I won't come willingly*

*Oh!*

That was what Mom meant! Not what I was physically living in... but what I was *actually* living in.

A waking *dream*.

*Anything* comes true in a dream. *This* time in space, in these starscapes, with my dead mother, was a *dream*. Which meant that I could think of *anything*.

*Though you're not far away*

*(Come get me)*

*You're still in ou-outer space*

"I'm in a dream! A *dream*. And that means..."

Mom nodded her approval, putting her hand on my shoulder. "You can dream of *anything* to make your life your own. Winterlyn, this world is *yours*. Your dream is *yours*, not anyone else's! When you feel lost, dream of a solution. When you're depressed, dream of the way up out of the rubble. Keep *dreaming*, love! Just *believe* in yourself, follow your heart, and *live your dream*!"

In that moment, I started to float again, my heart overinflating from pride and vindication.

I had so much doubt stored in me originally. Doubt that I'd survive. Doubt that I'd escape being hunted by the predators out there. Doubt that I wouldn't be able to live a new life without being reminded of the bloody past I was birthed in.

*Can't you come get me?*

*I'm not that hard to save*

But now? Those doubts were washed away, carried off by the stars and the fantasies of my head. I could *dream*. Dream *bigger*, *brighter*, and *better*. I'd live my life in a dream, only in a dream. *Only* in a dream.

This dream *couldn't* be broken... but it could fall into a nightmare. The *nightmares* could come back.

Nightmares *always* came back.

"Mom, what if I'm still haunted by my nightmares?" I asked, dangling in mid-air. "What happens if I keep getting reminded of my past? I don't want to think about it... I just want to move on."

*I don't leave easily*

*(Outer space)*

"Then *dream* a *new* dream, Winterlyn. One they can't meddle with, taint, or *destroy*. You *must* keep dreaming and keep your mind full of the awe, curiosity, and wonder you've possessed since your youth. Not for a moment should you forget *what* makes you special... never forget the will of your heart. Never forget what *composes* you, love..."

Mom's outline flickered, and with terror, I realized she was *fading*. "No! Mom, don't go yet! Please! There's still so much I want to know..." I pleaded, holding onto her hand.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment, looking solemn herself, but she met my eyes with fondness. "Unfortunately, I have to, honey. My time with you is limited, and it's time you returned to the real world to chase your dreams..."

Before she went, she again pointed out to the great beyond, and for the first time, I began to see *trees*. So many trees, starry and shimmering. A dream so pretty, so *real* I could touch it...

"This is your waking dream, Winter, and yours only. Make it what *you* want it to be. Your heart will lead you forward, through these perilous journeys and every ounce of strife. Don't forget *who* you are *inside*. Let the real you *shine*. *Believe* in yourself and your dreams. Fly *high* - you are always *home* among the starscapes."

*And I can shock your brain*

*Take me or seize me*

*I won't come willingly*

And facing the starscapes, the starry Piney Woods, hearing my mother call me by my short name for the first time - I did what my heart commanded me to do and spread my luminescent wings.

I *flew*.

I took off in a sprint towards the Piney Woods, running into the outlines of the trees, grasses, flowers, and rocks, hearing only pure serotonin and angelic ascension with every vocal sliding off Veela's tongue, *every* whistle of the wind, *everything* colliding in perfect harmony.

*Though you're not far away*

*You're still in outer space*

I was *flying* through the stars, *mingling* with the stars, and their glow could have sent me spinning into the multiverse. They were so *welcoming*!

I was *one* of them. *One* with the stars like I had dreamed since I was *five*.

*Can't you come get me?*

*I'm not that hard to save*

I didn't need *anyone* to save me from my dream. I would *embrace* this dream and mold it to my creation.

*I want to surf the starscapes,* I randomly thought, and just like that, I was on an invisible platform and merging with numerous lucky stars.

*I don't leave easily*

*(Outer space)*

*And I can shock your brain*

"Oh my god! I'm *surfing*!" I declared, doing a jump and flying through the air, observing my reflection in the ground below, which had morphed from a spitting image of the galaxy to a mirror so I could see my reflection.

There wasn't *suffering*. There wasn't *agony*. There was *me*, laughing, smiling, and *flying* with actual wings. *Hummingbird* wings.

*Take me or seize me*

*(Hard to save)*

*I won't come willingly*

*Anything I dream can become a reality!*

I descended to the ground, going back to running through the trees, touching them, and they pulsated *warmth*, the warmth of the cosmos that fused into my skin, and I was alight with *more creativity*.

*Though you're not far away*

*You're still in outer space*

I put my hand on the ground, and starlit flowers *immediately* bloomed with my touch. A *field* of flowers that I ran through, leaping into the air and gliding once more with my set of fantasy wings.

I was *free*. I was the top of the entire freaking *planet*! And I'd be sure *no evil* would bring me back to the ground.

*Can't you come get me?*

*I'm not that hard to save*

I willed myself back into the skies, and a silky light blue path appeared from under my feet, coated and flecked with stars.

*The Milky Way!*

*I don't leave easily*

*(Outer space)*

*And I can shock your brain*

I soared through the constellations and the stars, looping and forming each one in flight, and they *beamed*, appealing to me with their charm and infinite illuminated spark.

I was *high*, on *drugs*, and living out the *wildest* of dreams, the most *whimsical* and *wonderous* dreams. No one would understand me, and that was *fine*.

*Take me or seize me*

*(Hard to save)*

*I won't come willingly*

My dreams were *my creation*. Interference would *not* be tolerated.

My heart *thrummed*, pulsing with adrenaline and elation, excitement at the chance to explore and run free, filled with passion and delight. It didn't beat out of fear that I'd be consumed by the darkness. It was *thriving*. It was *restored* - and so was I.

*Though you're not far away*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

*You're still in ou-outer space*

Like a dragon made from a fallen comet, I weaved around the trees, feet leaving the ground, landing, and taking off running. My energy was *endless*. I was *limitless* and would spend tonight *running*.

In the end, going to the clearing had given me the unexpected strength I *needed* to relearn what it was like to embrace *dreaming*. Embrace *hoping*. Embrace what made me... *me*.

*Can't you come get me?*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

*I'm not that hard to save*

Laughing, I climbed up a small tree and hopped from branch to branch, getting a view of the starry Pinelake Park and Pineshadow neighborhoods in the distance.

Could they see a girl gone cray up in the trees, running to a Canadian singer performing from outer space? Nope. Because they didn't dream the way I dreamed. They never would.

*I don't leave easily*

*(Outer space)*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

*And I can shock your brain*

They also didn't see that same girl dive back down and land effortlessly on her feet, dashing through shrubs and around more tall trees, elderly and ancient and shielding me with their leaves.

I broke through the edge of the clearing, now entering the grounds of Pinelake Park.

*Take me or seize me*

*(Hard to save)*

*I won't come willingly*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

The grounds of Pinelake Park were *alight* with so much *starlight*. The grass was *ethereal*, out of a storybook. Storybooks were *real*.

And the park structures? They were *castles*. *Actual* castles!

*Though you're not far away*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

*You're still in outer space*

I jumped up the structures, staring out and feeling like a knight about to set off on a mighty quest. I had a world to *see* and many to *rescue*.

My mind was made up.

*Can't you come get me?*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

*I'm not that hard to save*

Dreams were *beautiful*. Dreams were meant to be *lived*. Dreams could be *anything* I wanted.

I could be a knight. I could move and break mountains.

*I don't leave easily*

*(Outer space)*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

*And I can shock your brain*

I could control nature. Speak to animals. Live with the stars.

Be a *deity*. I ran to the open grounds, one of the major burdens off my back *releasing*, and I tasted only *euphoria* on my tongue.

*Take me or seize me*

*(Hard to save)*

*I won't come willingly*

*(Come get me, come get me, come get me)*

At last, I collapsed in the grounds making up Pinelake Park, panting from exhileration, and my space world tuned out, gradually returning to the real earth. The stars made their way back up to the black sky like lanterns, shining brighter than ever.

Unified not just as a galaxy, but *starscapes*. The starscapes that were my home.

I smiled, my muscles sore from all of the running, flying, and soaring I had done, and my eyes felt weighed down.

Just for tonight... I'd sleep out under the stars. They would protect me as they had done many times before.

I gazed up at them for the last time that night, waving at them briefly.

*Goodnight, my friends. And thank you, Mom.*

With that, my eyes closed, and the night was peacefully dreamt away.

G-Get me, g-get me

*Whew*. This was a *long* chapter, and I apologize! I had a *ton* to cover here - and duh, it had some of my most iconic moments.

Dreams heavily influence the way we think. They mold us, give us realms we can explore and enjoy, to escape the stresses of the real world. To heal us.

Or they become our worst nightmares, invading our waking dreams and handing us nothing but strife and grief.

It's hard to find your dreams when the world is burning and you're isolated. No one is ever truly in a fight alone, for they have wit, grit, imagination, and everything else that makes them special by their side.

Never forget who you are inside. Never forget that. What defines you will guide you. As dumb as it sounds, listen to your heart - Mom taught me that much, and it kept me alive on more than one occassion.

After this, I believed that I had what I needed to dodge the bullets of my sixth grade year and come out alive. Rex had sided with me, and so had her friend and a hummingbird, insane as that is.

What did I have left to face? Monsters? Ghosts? Lovesick stalkers?

The first answer called a little too close to home... and it *all* started the second *she* found me.

From there, axes talked. And they wanted *revenge*.

## Cast

* **Mae Whitman** as Winter
* **Dee Bradley Baker** and **Kari Wahlgren** as additional voices
* **Kevin Michael Richardson** as the cashier
* **Eden Riegel** as Daniela (voice/dream only)
* **Rob Wiethoff** as Mr. Naecher
* **Nora Dunn** as Rex
* **Cozi Zuehsldorff** as Lorelei

## Songs

* Twenty One Pilots - *Jumpsuit* (snippet)
* Varien - *Aether and Light* (snippet)
* Tut Tut Child - *Just A Dream* (ft. Tasha Baxter)
* OneRepublic - *Stop and Stare*
* Tut Tut Child - *Hummingbird* (ft. Augustus Ghost)
* TwoThirds & Feint - *Starscapes* (ft. Veela)

## Trivia

* The chapter's title is a play on the Au5 and Nytrix song *Only In A Dream* and the TwoThirds song *Waking Dreams*.
* The song Winter quotes in the beginning is the Varien and SirensCeol song *Moonlight*.
* Notably, the chapter was released on Veterans Day.
* The majority of the chapter is inspired by an array of Winter's theme songs: *Jumpsuit*, *Snowblind*, *Just A Dream*, *Stop and Stare*, *No Roots*, *Ghost Town*, *Me, Myself & I*, and *Monster*.
	+ Half of *Jumpsuit* plays after Winter ends her monologue up until she collapses at Pinelake Park, while *Just A Dream* fully plays as Winter acts out her evasive facade at school.
	+ Besides the music, some of the chapter is also inspired by *Alice in Wonderland*.
* As of the end of this chapter, Winter now bears the current appearance that she does at the start of Season 1.
* It is revealed that:
	+ After running away, Winter collapsed by a tree and sobbed herself to sleep. She then trekked into the Piney Woods and found her cabin the next morning.
	+ The southern part of the Piney Woods was unexplored by Daniela, and she had no idea that the cabin ever existed until later.
	+ Winter's cabin had been unoccupied for over ten years, with the last person leaving just days before the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the United States.
	+ The initial rations Winter ate/drank were from a nearby gas station; she ate very little in order to sustain herself for longer, despite this not being viable and damaging to her health.
	+ Stemming from lingering effects of her trauma, Winter vowed to hide herself and her secrets from Pineshadow, spawning her now-famous motto: out of sight and out of mind.
		- To help herself cope with her trauma, she also began to live what she described as a waking dream, a reality that was livable but came with aspects of both a dream and a nightmare.
	+ Briefly, Winter struggled to maintain her facade, bogged down by her trauma and inconsistent diet, but after nearly being broken into by Mr. Naecher, she became more resolute and strengthened herself.
	+ Winter was initially suspicious of Rex and did not want her help, but knowing she couldn't deny her dire situation, she accepted and since enjoyed the gifts from her and her anonymous friend, helping her stay alive and get to the point of where she is today.
	+ The concept of Winter dyeing her hair actually stemmed from one of her remarks to Rex in their argument. Her friend gave Winter a set of dyes, convincing her to die her hair to break the illusion of her continually witnessing her past self and her traumatic memories. Each dye symbolizes aspects of Winter:
		- Pink, representing Pacific bleeding hearts, her mother's favorite flower.
		- Blue, representing the night sky.
		- Silver, representing moonlight.
		- Black, representing a color her father despised for its connotations.
	+ Winter had doubts about dyeing her hair, but they were very brief before she became swept up in the rescue of a male rufous hummingbird. When she saved him, his hope was restored, making Winter realize that she had to have hope in order to remain strong. She also befriended the hummingbird and named him Rufie.
	+ After awakening from a nightmare, Winter found herself running to the same clearing she and Daniela once visited, where she dreamed of an interaction between her and her mother in the depths of space. There, Winter realized that she had the power to dream of everything she wanted, solidying her waking dream and giving her the additional strength she needed to thrive.
* Winter comparing what happened to her to the events of the Salem witch trials serves as a religious allusion as to how her father deemed her being queer and athiest witchcraft, similar to how women in the 1600s were often accused of doing witchcraft in Puritan communities and then were tried and often executed for it. This resulted from mass hysteria that was prominently directed at women, believed to be more sinful than men, who had been supposedly possessed by the devil and had inflicted children with incurable, astonishing diseases and conditions, among performing other acts seen as witchcraft.
	+ Winter's story could also be seen as a parallel to the Margaret Atwood poem *Half-Hanged Mary*, which features a survivor of the Salem witch trials walking away unharmed, as per law, she could not be tried again for witchcraft.
* As Winter explores the Piney Woods, a minor snippet of the Varien song *Aether and Light* is heard.
* Winter nearly swears when she encounters the pine siskin, almost saying "f\*cking."
* Winter's reaction to the note left in the cabin is a reference to a scene in *Gravity Falls* where Dipper exclaims that the negative twelve dollar bill he has in his hand is completely worthless.
* When Winter refuses to sell herself out to entertain for food, she references the Halsey song *Gasoline*.
* Twice in the chapter, Winter alludes to the film *Sleepless in Seattle*.
* During the *Just A Dream* scene, part of the lyrics are heard in Winter's head to emphasize her belief that the life she lives is all just a dream.
* When Winter and Rex confront each other, the OneRepublic song *Stop and Stare* is heard in the background. As aforementioned above, *Stop and Stare* is a major theme of Winter's.
* Winter comparing people's rejection of her to jewelry being tried on is a reference to another Halsey song, *Sorry*.
* After Winter gets the motivation to dye her hair, the Tut Tut Child song *Hummingbird* is played in the background. The song is meant to symbolize Winter's resurgence in hope after dying her hair and her realization that she can still find hope upon rescuing Rufie.
* When Winter follows the stars to the clearing, the TwoThirds and Feint song *Starscapes* becomes audible. Soon, when Winter transcends into her dream, the song continues to play, and Veela's vocals are heard by Winter herself as she speaks with her mother and dreams of everything she could ever potentially dream.
	+ Thus, Winter hearing *Starscapes* and physically recognizing Veela marks the first time any *Evie and Mya* character has broken the fourth wall, whether intentionally or not.
	+ In addition, Av has claimed that the *Starscapes* scene was one of the most difficult scenes she had ever written, attributing it to the pacing and abundant varying lyrics in *Starscapes* that required her to pause the song and continually rewind it to make sure the lyrics were inserted correctly.
	+ Besides *Starscapes*, the scene is also inspired by Tobor's encouragement to Max over his dreams in *The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl*, one of Av's childhood movies.