Their screams haunted her sleep. Their crys of agony, horror and grief. Her sheets were soaked with sweat and tears that were only partly hers. Though she was alone in bed, she did not sleep alone. They were in her head. And her heart.

Her nightmare world was cold and dark, a figurative reflection of her waking world. She stood alone on a vast plain, a dreamscape. All was shades of grey. All was as still and quiet as she. Then the world began to stir. The grey burned and melted into swirls of red and orange. The colours took shape, becomming faces.And then the voices. They called out, called through her, not too her. Time, which had previously stood still, jolted backwards, shockingly.

Momma. She saw her mother's face, her eyes. She could see no more than that. And hear her ragged, pained breathing. Breathing that sounded -bloody-. It turned the girl's stomach to listen to it, but she could NOT tune it out. The woman did not scream. She did not have to. The pain seemed to be released through her eyes... But the doctor still had to quiet her, soothe her.The girl could hear him shoosh and cooe; he was as frightenned as the woman was. Her tears slid down her cheek, landing on the pillow with a "ping". It was a cruel, sharp sound, like metal scraping metal. It was shrill and cold. One after another. Then it all stopped, with one final, bloodcurdling scream. Her first and last. And then there was a silence. A dreadful, frightening silence. Her eyes closed, but the tears still came, no longer of pain, but of sorrow. The girl could hear the doctor say "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Then her cries turned to wimpers, and another man, her husband, choked back tears aswell. ... Then it all faded away...

The girl was frozen where she stood. Her jaw hung open, and a single bitter tear fell from her eye.

The grey had again surrounded her. She was shaking. "There should have been one more," she thought. "There should have been one more..." She was torn from her stupor by the procession of time. she could feel herself being thrust forward again. The grey morphed into yellows and greens, which again surrounded her, encircled her. Another face formed within the swirls of colour. This time of a child. A child who lived, but barely?

She could hear her sobs, the wind and the stones. She could hear the taunts, though she never really heard them. It chilled her to the bone. Her only consolation was that the little girl had survived. But they STONED her! Stoned her, like a common criminal, in biblical times. But she had no one to stop them. No one to make them realize... And when they grew tired of simply throwing things at her, they advanced to pushing her around, beating her. Although their physical brutality bruised and sliced her, their words did so much worse. It just isn't fair! People shouldn't be treated that way!

"Stupid git!"

"You're no good! Freak!"

"Little girl. Go back to your mommy!"

"Oh. Wait. You don't have a mother, do you? Poor, stupid little orphan girl. You're useless. a waste of space!" They called her things so horrible that... They taunted her, beat her, stoned her... Then, they left her there on the cold, cold ground.

The elder girl was so overwhelmed, she too collapsed onto the ground. The world melted around her, too quickly. The yellows and greens became blues and purples, no time for grey. She held her ears to block out the screams, and she rocked herself, till all she could hear was the single scream that was the loudest.

"No!" Another young girl. This one, she knew, was not so fortunate. At least the youngest girl was found in time... But not her. The observer could no longer contain it. She began to cry. Tears streaked the face of the girl in the haze, and her screams died to wimpers. There was the cruel sound of a hand accross her face. The watcher-girl could ~feel~ it. She could hear clothes tearing, and the sharp gasps as her hair was yanked from her head, in clumps. And as the last remains of her childhood were viciously stolen away from her. The older girl could do nothing. She could only watch in horror, as it was too late. Too late. The cries faded away. Died. All that was left was the ound of the living girl's breathing.

Breathing. She did not know her long, nor did she know her well. But that did not mean that she did not deserve to miss he (or any of them...). Each night, she fell asleep to the sound of her slow, heavy rhythmic breathing above her, and each morning she awoke with her feet dangling in her face. As the thought crossed her mind, she could not help but let out a small, sad,. bitter laugh. She knew little more about the girl than her name. And that she reminded her strongly of Elsie, one of her sisters. She did not even know the colour of her eyes. But then again, she never noticed that. The little things. All she knew was that she was a good girl. Who didn't deserve to die! Not like that... The image of her was already fuzzy in the older girl's mind. But not the sound... The sound of her breathing. It would forever be, however odd, etched in her brain. Then even ~that~ sound subsided. The colour all disappeared again, leaving the dreaner in a grey world once again.

Her head was pulsing. There were no more cries and screams. Only whispers. She tried desperately to block them out, but she could not. She felt so useless! She should have done SOMETHING... She didn't. She couldn't.She felt so useless. She let the grey swallow her up. Her mind was abuzz. She wished it were all different. She wished that she could have taken their pain away. But she was no saint. She knew it. She felt like the worst sinner of all. She ommitted and committed. She sat there, alone in the dark, all folded up, rocking and crying and wishing. Useless and alone...

She felt a weight press onto her shoulders. She gasped in extreme shock. Her eyes flew open, and her hands fell from her ears. The screaming stopped. The whispering stopped. All she could here was the sound of her breath and her heart. And the same sounds again. She was NOT alone. "Everything's going to be all right." She turned to face the person who rescued her. He smiled. The place went from grey to almost white. Her jaw dropped, amazed.

"You!" She spoke. "Why you? Why an earthly splendour, why such a painful delight?" She spoke awed, sugary. She could barely controle her stammers, or the blush spreading accross her face. She was struck foolish, all of the memories suddenly pushed to the back of her mind. Her cynicism and jadedness melted away. He laughed at her softly.

"You flatter me." He smiled. "I don't deserve it." He gently touched her face, brushing away a stray tear. "But perhaps you do?" She flushed and smiled, feeling very awkward. "You care so much, and yet you try so hard not to show it..." He held her face in his hands. She felt like she was on fire. "You have to go out on a limb sometimes, show how you feel." HBe smiled 'slyly'. "It's not good to keep it all bottled up inside." He brushed his fingers through her hair, flicking it out of it's tight bun, letting it fall down over her shoulders. She felt so ~hopeful~. Neither of them spoke. She just let him lead her. ...

He pulled back, spitting. She gasped n shock, as he began to speak. The world went black and cold. She knew it was too good. She knew it wasn't even remotely posible. She knew she didn't deserve it. But it still hurt. "You're nothing!" He hollered. "You're ugly! And stupid! You were a mistake. You shouldn't be here. You don't fit in. You don't even try. You're useless." He continued softly and diabolically boring at her soul. She choked back tears. He toyed with her mind, circling her. Then another person entered the dream. The Pretty Girl who he ran away with, both laughing all the way. She was left there, alone again, bawling like a baby, scared, alone and sick. She hurt so bad...

Gertrude Brewster woke up crying.