Ceilings are weird. For the first sixteen years of your life, the water spots and paint stains look like blobs. Messy, incoherent blobs. And now they resemble wings taking flight.

I close my eyes and turn my head back into the pillow. The fabric has permanently molded to fit the left side of my face. I'm surprised I haven't permanently glued down to the bedside. I allow myself a small sigh. There's an aching in my leg, a grotesque feeling that refuses to die. The only way to get rid of it would be to get up. Get out of this bed, walk around, breath in the fresh air. Go back to school. I snort. There's not enough motivation in the world to snap me out of this bed, no matter how uncomfortable I become.

I'd only gotten up once or twice a day for the last week and a half. Some days, I'd even venture into the kitchen, grab a bit of bread, and leave a trail of crumbs all the way up to the bathroom. Vivvy had to do my chores now. I know I should feel bad, but I just couldn't. It's as if Flaire took my ability to feel empathy with her into the void. A tear runs down my cheek.

Flaire...

I've been trying hard, so hard, to think about anything else. I've tried reading, puzzles, cleaning up my room. Nothing works. After the first few days, I subsided myself to my bed, accepting my fate. Nothing but unconsciousness dulls the pain. Unconsciousness is a shield to the waves of pain, the only potent weapon at my disposal.

Knock Knock Knock!

"Micha?"

"Go away, Vivvy. I'm sleeping."

She opens the door anyway. My sister pops her head in, eyebrows furrowed with worry. I see Sun crawl around her shoulder. She tilts her head, as if trying to figure out what's going on, and snorts. Vivvy shushes her and shooed her back out of sight. A nice gesture, I guess.

"You're obviously not sleeping. Unless you've taken up talking and looking at people in your sleep?"

"Shouldn't you be at school?"

I sit up and cross my arms. She takes a few steps into the room, Sun nestling herself in her hair.

"It's almost time for individual studies. I'm sure Sam would be glad to have you in his class-"

"Samuel is a drunkard who can barely remember our names. I'm sure he'll be more than ecstatic to only have two kids to manage."

"Then go to talk to Pearl and Phe. They're your friends, right? If you're not going to talk to Niko and Fraze at least go to visit them. Don't even talk about, well, you know what. Just ask them how they've been. Or, invent one of your crazy Edrian gadgets. They run on inectricity, right?"

"How did you get 'inectricity', which isn't a word by the way, from 'electricity'? C'mon, sis."

She playfully sticks out her tongue. I snort, pushing myself up against the wall. The wood feels cold. Colder than usual.

"But really," she says, sitting on the side of my bed. "Don't you remember what you told me before the Rujan festival? What we have that most people don't?"

"I was wrong. I don't have it."

"But you do! Not only do you have determination, but you have your God, your friends, your family. We can all help you get through this-"

"Please leave. I'm going to sleep."

I feel a twinge of guilt as I slump back down, tossing the blanket over my head. It feels sweat and itchy. I scratch my chin, burying myself back into the pillow. I can't. I can't get up, I can't leave, I can't face the world again. Not yet. Or maybe, not ever.

Not that she, or anyone, understood.

"Don't lock me out," I hear her voice crack. "P-please, I'm your sister! We still have one dragon in this family, you can help me raise her. Please, Micha, just get out of bed!"

"Go. Away."

She stammers out of the room. Following hurried footsteps, the door slams shut. I feel the vibrations all the way from here. An ugly feeling blooms in my stomach. I roll on my back and squeeze my eyes tight. Maybe if I ignore it, it'll go away.

No such luck.

It simply spreads, from the buzzing in my ears to a wiggling in my toes. No, no, I just need to go back to sleep. Yeah, sleep. The feeling gets more and more intense. I'm only becoming alert and awake, the exact opposite of what I need to be. I feel like I'm about to throw up. It just gets worse and worse, until finally, I do the unthinkable.

I get up, grab my bag, and head downstairs.  

"Vivvy?"

In case the creaking of the floorboards isn't enough, I call out for her. Silence. I move down the stairs and look around. She's not in the kitchen, nor the living room. None of the doors look open. Dust still gathers on some of the handles. I sigh, rubbing my eyes. Guess I'm too late to catch her.

Guilt begins to eat at me. I open the front door. A brisk, whistling breeze smacks me dead in the face. It's as if God is saying; "Welcome back, Micha. Now get to work!"  

A/N: 

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