Don't Fear The Reaper

{xiv. tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow}

❝A heart's a heavy burden.❞

-Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

✕✕✕✕✕

Rain clouds are what I see when I wake the next morning, a stark reminder of the season I'm stuck in. I know, with the winter, things will only get darker, but I may not live long enough to see the worst of it.

My nightmares were worse the previous night, to the point that I couldn't quite tell whether I was awake or sleeping. Everything was painful, and the remnants of my tossing and turning are still evident in the twisted sheets and throbbing pain in my head.

After Mor took me home, I went straight to bed in fear I'd have another waking panic attack. I'd said nothing to Macy, who I'd presumed would follow my instructions and go back home on her own. Now, it's roughly 7 AM, and I roll over to see my phone, sitting on my nightstand, glowing with several texts.

Six of them are from Macy:

omg lila

after the lanterns v told us everything

i had no idea

im so sorry!!!

r u ok?

:(

Two more are from Trevor:

Hey, veronica just told macy and i everything. I can't believe her. I mean, i do believe her, I just can't believe this.

I'm so sorry you had to deal with that.

And the last one is from my mother, completely off topic:

Would you rather me make chicken or pork for dinner on Tuesday?

Sighing, I toss the phone back on my bed. Part of me is relieved that Macy and Trevor actually care about how I feel, but the other, more dominant part of me is too confused by my own feelings to give them an answer.

I look down at my hands, and see they're still shaking. It seems that even when the nightmares are over, I can't stop the terror that comes with them.

✕✕✕

There's no hope for more sleep for me, so, in just my sweatpants and a Red Sox t-shirt, I drag myself downstairs. Mama is fast asleep, but Kat's already up - which I'm not surprised by. Early to bed and early to rise, and all that. She's standing near the sink, nimbly arranging strawberries on a bowl of oatmeal. Next to her, sitting on the polished pine counter, is Macy.

When she sees me, she perks up, and before I can even say her name, she exclaims, "Lila! Are you okay?"

"I'm... fine." I cock my head. Curiously, I ask, "What are you doing here?"

She gestures to my bag, sitting plainly on the kitchen peninsula. "I wanted to bring back your keys. And make sure you were okay."

My eyes widen. Usually, Macy isn't this responsible. Perhaps Kat is rubbing off on her. "Thanks, Mace. That's really thoughtful of you."

Macy beams, and hops off of the counter. For once, she isn't dressed up all artsy - her hair is in its natural curls, and she's wearing only a hoodie for cheer camp, tapered track pants, and beat-up black Converse with little sharpie doodles on the rubber. "Um," she starts, "I hope you're okay with this, but I told Kat everything Veronica said."