Her pounding head woke her from the nightmares. The black dinner dress was still hanging from her bony shoulders, the morning sunlight seeping through her heavy drapes.

Breakfast was done to perfection, as always, but the tea tasted sour as she sat in silence with her family.

"Do you have any plans for today, Vigil?" Her father was staring at a newspaper, his tea in one hand.

Mrs. Vanbric narrowed her eyes at her husband. "Albert," She said sharply. "What could Vigil possibly be doing today?"

A look of innocence was plastered to Albert's chiseled face. "Well, I wouldn't know, Eleanor. It's the nineteen-twenties now. You're a woman, what do women do?"

Eleanor set down her silverware with a sigh. "You know full well what she will be doing today. Painting and writing and all those things that help distract her."

Albert studied his daughter's face, who was staring at her uneaten breakfast. "Do you think doing something today would help distract you?"

"I'm fine," She whispered. The voices were gone, but an echo still remained.

"You know why we're doing this, right?" His face was serious, no more jokes.

Vigil nodded, still staring at her egg. "To protect me."

She could feel her mother's eyes boring into her, daring her to say more.

The corners of Alberts mouth curled upward, and he folded the paper back up. "You're a special girl, do you know that?"

Vigil said nothing, only pushed from the table and walked from the room.

~~~~~~

Tears welled in Vigil's fragile eyes as her broken fingernails traced the torn wallpaper. All the beautiful work—ruined. The once flawless mural of a golden sunset was ripped to shreds.

"I hate you." She muttered, not sure if she was talking to herself or the voices or even the mural itself. She wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Walking to a mahogany mirror, a sallow-skinned face stared back at her. Dark curls framed the pronounced cheekbones, coming to a halt at the base of her skull. Amber eyes were wet with tears, wide and sunken.

"Why are you still alive?" She whispered to the face. "Why would you want to live?"

"Because I want something worth living for," She answered. "I want a dream."

She jumped from the pin cushion stool when a knock sounded at her door.

"When will you be going out tonight, Miss Vanbric?"

Vigil grinned as Margaret walked in, straightening her maid's cap. She could feel the fear and darkness that had reined her mind slowly melt away.

"Just be ready to distract them. Would you be a dear and get my hair done?"

Margaret eyed her walls suspiciously and Vigil quickly swiped tears from her face. She said nothing about the torn wallpaper and overturned furniture, though, and Vigil was grateful.

"What have you been up to today, miss?" She said.

Vigil stuck diamonds in her ears, smiling as they reflected off the setting sun. "I wrote another ballad. About sunsets and happy endings."

She could see Margaret smiling through the mirror. "I believe it is about time, Vigil. To write about happiness."

Vigil grabbed a tangle of beads from a tiny box and smiled. "I always write happy poetry on joint days."