Her eyes drift closed as she starts to fall asleep. That's until a soft voice whispers in her ear, "You think you're alone, but you're not." Her eyes shot open, only to find that no one was there. She sat up against the plush cushions of the couch, and glanced around for closure. Alas, she received nothing but her cat sitting there on the window sill beside the desk, dozing off. She pulled the quilt over the back of the couch, stood up, a dizziness flooding over her. She shook it off like dust, and gazed at the stars with sleep-ridden eyes. They twinkled brighter than the old lamp that had been rewired too many times, and glowed only enough to be able to barely see through the darkness. Creak, the floorboards groaned as if someone was walking across them, possibly even running, but it was just her in the nearly-empty room. The door sang as it opened only a little, caught in her peripheral vision. She spun on her heel, staring wide-eyed at the rustic wooden door, the dark circles under her eyes glistening in the amber light. I'm hearing things. She lets it go, and returns to her makeshift bed on the couch she's been living on for the past five months. She slowly begins to drift back into slumber, but the voice wakes her again. "You're not alone." It wasn't scary, the voice. It was gentle, reassuring.

"Wake up!" Her mother's voice startled her to the morning sun peeking through the silk white curtains. Morning again? But it was morning 2 hours ago..