Make them stop. Make it stop. Sweaty palms were clamped over the sides of her head, though ears were not required to hear the voices. A scream was building in her throat, but she couldn't let them know. Couldn't give away the demons that lurked inside her brain.

So she let the fear out in a different way. Fingernails tore the carefully painted murals that adorned her bedroom walls. Teeth ripped into linen sheets. Her mouth gaped open in a silent scream.

I won't stop until you give up. The voice was still booming through her skull. Her hands dug into her hair.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" She hissed, willing herself from sobbing.

I won't stop until you give up. Jump! The last part was a head-splitting roar, and the girl threw herself upon the bed.

A knock at the door. A soft voice, her mother.

"Vigil? Did it happen?" The door slowly creaked open. Her mother cautiously inched toward her body, like a hunter approaching a half-dead wild animal.

Not like a half-dead wild animal. Vigil was, at the end of the day, just that.

She rolled onto her back, once perfectly styled hair curling like the burnt pages of a book. Her dress was torn, beads strewn about the room.

"Nobody managed to see you, on the bright side." Her mother said, straightening an overturned chair.

Vigil lifted herself from the feathered pillows. "I'm so sick of this."

Her mother's gaze snapped to the creature on the bed. "What did you say, Vigil Vanbric?"

"This," She gestured to the ruined bedroom. "Running to my room every episode so your sweet reputation wouldn't be compromised."

"Do you think that is why we are trying to hide you? To protect our reputation?"

Vigil didn't answer, only stared up at her.

"Your father and I are attempting to keep you from an asylum," Mrs. Vanbric said loudly, then quieted her voice, glancing out the door. "Do you want that?"

Vigil shook her head. "You're embarrassed by me."

Her mother scowled. "I am not having this argument again. Please make yourself more presentable for the dinner. And try not to make a scene."

The girl resumed her position in the torn sheets, brown eyes following the ethereal cherubs and floating clouds on the ceiling. The paintings all surrounded the chandelier, symbolizing the one thing in her life that was always there but so difficult to find— light.