Unedited.

I'm sorry this update took so long. School had been crazy and I've had no free time to do ANYTHING. I know there's not a lot of people that read the story but for those that do, I'm sorry!

Over three thousand reads?! Thank you!

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When they got home, Rebecca went straight for the kitchen. She needed food, chocolate specifically. It was either that or curl up on her bed, burying her attention in a book. Chocolate sounded better right now. All her books were fantasy and the last thing she needed was to be reminded of Mikael's accusation. Fantasy meant that it didn't exist; Rebecca certainly wasn't a creature of fantasy.

               How long had it been since she'd had the exact same conversation with Jackson? Technically, it hadn't been the same, but Rebecca had to wonder if she'd somehow been predicting the future. All of a sudden, her life was the book she'd been talking about. She — supposedly — was a Faerie. Now all she had to do was meet a prince and they could run off together, others after them.

               Rebecca sighed loudly, gaining the attention of her mother, sitting on the kitchen table, sorting through what looked like bills. "Rebecca, what are you doing?"

               "Kitchen. Chocolate," she muttered, winding her way around the table. Some of the chairs were spread haphazardly around the dining room, a tripping hazard for Rebecca who fell over anything.

               Her mother put the paper in her hands on the table with a frown. "What?"

               "I'm hungry mum," Rebecca said, walking around the island bench of the kitchen to the fridge. "Hospital food sucks. And I was out of it most of the time." She grabbed some caramel chocolate out of the fridge, snapping a square out of the bar. "How was court?"

               "You don't care what court was like, honey. Where's you dad?"

               "I can pretend," Rebecca said, around a mouthful of food. She pointed towards her parents' room. "Dad went to go and get changed."

               Her mother nodded, standing from her seat. "Becca, come here. I need to hold you."

               Putting the bar back in the fridge, Rebecca walked over to her mother. Arms wrapped around her when she got close and Rebecca sank into the embrace. The rough material of the suit, pinched uncomfortably against her cheek. Winding her arms around her mothers' waist, Rebecca let herself relax.

               Mikael's words still weighed heavily on her mind, she was paranoid that the necklace would magically appear out of nowhere . . . but, here, wrapped in her mother's embrace, she was okay. Her sanity was still in question. None of it mattered. All that did was the smell of the perfume that clung to her mothers' suit jacket and how she could suddenly breathe easily.

               "I was so worried about you," her mother whispered into her hair.

               Rebecca frowned, wondering if she looked like she'd seen a ghost — and she didn't even want to begin considering if that was a metaphor or the truth. "I'm fine mum."

               "What happened? The school called, telling me that they were rushing you away in an ambulance. I didn't get to talk for long — the break in my case wasn't a long one."

               How was she supposed to explain any of it? To her own ears it sounded like she'd taken a hallucinogenic. A good one too. It was only a matter of time before the cops came, interrogation questions in hand.

               Rebecca had never been good at lying and she highly doubted it would start now. Thinking off the top of her head, she said the first thing that came to mind, hoping it would seem plausible. "I was walking down the hall to go to the toilet and I heard . . . something." Something? That's all she could think of. God, her mother wouldn't buy this for a second. "I went outside and saw a person near the brick wall. Then, when I went closer, I guess I realised that he wasn't . . . breathing . . . and I think I passed out," she said, voice too high, as if she was asking a question.

               As her mother gripped her shoulder and forced Rebecca's eyes to meet her, she tried to keep the nervousness she felt from flickering across her face. "Oh, honey," her mother sadly, eyes wide and voice barely above a breath. "You saw that? I'm so sorry."

               Rebecca said nothing as she once again wrapped in her mother's tight embrace. Shock must have been still warring with her mind after everything, because, though she knew she should've been freaking out, she wasn't. What she felt emotionally, she couldn't place. It was almost a numbness.

               Seeing an unconscious body (because she was avoiding the word dead at all costs) wasn't what was freaking her out the most, even though it should've been. Being told she was a Faerie was by far the weirdest thing she'd heard or seen. Actually, it was seeing someone wake—

               Abruptly, she stopped the train of thought. She wasn't going to think about it. Hopefully if she just pretended hadn't happened, then she'd forget all about it and so would everyone else. It would be as if it had never happened.

               It had never worked before . . . but that didn't mean she wouldn't do it anyway.

               "Mum," she whispered. "I'm fine. I don't want to think about it."

               Her mother hummed noncommittally, rubbing her back like she would a child. The motion was soothing. "Of course, honey. Do you want a hot chocolate? Food — in general?"

               Rebecca shook her head. "I'm not hungry. Actually, I don't even know what I want. What I need is therapy." She'd needed therapy for years, in truth. She had so many issues, it'd take years to sort them all out. Maybe it was why all of this was barely phasing her. 

               Her mother's voice turned sad. "If you need therapy, I'll get you in to see someone."

               "Mum," Rebecca said, stepping back. The arms around her let go without question and Rebecca avoided her mother's eyes, electing to stare at the wall instead. "You don't have to worry. I'll be okay. I promise."

               "Honey, whatever you need, I'm here."

               Rebecca sighed heavily. "All I want to do it sleep. I don't care that it's . . ." She glanced at the clock on the microwave, "barely lunch time. I want to go to sleep. That's it." And forget any of this ever happened, she added silently.

               "Okay, honey. Do you need help up to your room? I have sleeping tablets if you need them."

               "I'm not going to take any drugs mum," she said. They brought it all back. First he'd offered her a cigarette. From there it had all escalated, too fast for Rebecca to track. An offhand comment about her relationship — or lack of — with Mikael and . . . something had happened.

               The only good thing to come out of any of this, was that she knew the person who'd been texting her. Although that brought on even more problems: how he'd gotten her number in the first place.

               And now, he apparently "owed" her for bring him back to life . . .

               Mentally she added it to her list of growing problems to deal with later.

               A kiss was placed upon her forehead; her mother's voice quiet and soothing as if she was speaking to a spooked animal. "One sleeping pill won't hurt, sweetheart. I've dealt with too many trauma cases, so I know what I'm talking about. What you went through was traumatic, and you can tell me you're okay a thousand times, but it won't make it true. There is no set way to deal with something like this and I'll be there every step of the way."

               Rebecca wasn't sure whether her parents being a lawyer was a perk or not. Her mother's words rang true. She'd dealt with thousands of cases in her job. The people she represented weren't always stable, for whatever reason. How many times had her mother counselled her clients, when that wasn't even her job? Rebeca was never involved in conversations about their work but she did have common sense. It meant her mother knew how to deal with it all.

She just wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not . . .

Telling her parents what had really happened wouldn't go down well. Practicality was their middle name. They'd just look at her like she was crazy, which wasn't an inaccurate description, because that was how she felt right now.

               Rebecca sighed heavily. "I'm going to bed," she muttered, hugging her mother tightly before letting go. She tried to muster up a smile but even she knew it was weak.

               Her mother didn't let her go easily, wrapping her arm around Rebecca's waist.

               Trying to get out of the embrace, she narrowed her eyes on her mother's concerned face. "You don't have to hold me, mum. You're working."

               Her mother narrowed her eyes as well, frowning. "You're more important than any work I have to do. Now come on. I'm leading you to your room and then you're going to get some sleep."

               Knowing her wouldn't win, Rebecca admitted defeat. Fighting was honestly too exhausting and she already felt like she could sleep on the spot.

               And she proved it too. The minute her head hit the pillow she was out.

               "Well, she really didn't need a sleeping pill," she heard her mother mutter fondly, before deep sleep took over and she heard nothing else.

               *

               There was an insistent tapping on her window. A constant ­tap-tap-tap of glass that wouldn't stop echoing in Rebecca's eyes.

               Keeping her eyes closed, Rebecca put her pillow over her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Her half-hearted attempt was futile and the tapping only continued. Sighing heavily, Rebecca kept her eyes closed, willing sleep to return. Not for the first time she cursed the fact that she was a light sleeper. Any noise in the night woke her up, and once she was awake there was no going back to sleep.

               Glaring in the general direction of the noise, — with closed eyes, — she growled, "Shut up." Afterwards, she felt ridiculous.

               Slinking down further into her bed, she fought the light that threatened to blind her. Clearly she hadn't been sleeping for long if the sun hadn't started to set.

               Annoyingly, it hadn't helped anything. Her dreams were plagued with . . . she didn't even know herself. It had been the same dream from long ago: Mikael and her at the grave, with the woman encased in glass. Only this time it had been different. Instead of speaking a completely foreign language, he'd spoken English. Rebecca had to wonder if it was the same things he'd said before, just in a language she spoke.

               The beginning of it hadn't been any different. Just the two of them, sitting down. Though Rebecca's memory from weeks ago was hazy, she was sure the dress she'd worn had been exactly the same. She'd listened to him talk, staring at the woman.

               "How are you?" he'd asked at first, voice tinged with actual concern.

               Rebecca hadn't answered him, too busy staring at the woman. The connection had been just strong; stronger if anything.

               "You love her, don't you?" had followed and Rebecca had only stared at him in confusion. She couldn't remember what her response had been but she had the feeling it had been along the lines of, "Who?"

               What she did remember was the fact that he'd completely ignored her question. Instead he'd changed the subject completely, moving onto something else entirely. "Do you believe in werewolves?" he'd asked out of the blue. Rebecca had laughed it off. Then he'd said, "I don't either."

               Thinking back on it, Rebecca reminded herself that he was crazy. He didn't believe in werewolves but the idea of faeries was plausible. In the dream a witty remark had been on the top of her tongue, but she'd said nothing.

               Then, the dream had slowly deteriorated. Red had started to run, in a lake that had appeared out of nowhere. Rebecca's dress had turned red, Mikael himself.

               It had been blood.

               The last words she'd heard were still haunting her. Mikael hadn't said them, instead a dark, soulless person.

"Queens fall. Kings rise."

               At that point, Rebecca hadn't stuck around to find out what would happen. She'd cut off the dream.

               Frankly, it was surprising that she hadn't woken up screaming. Blood, creepy words that made no sense. What the hell did that even mean? "Queens fall. Kings rise." The only queen she knew of was the queen of England she hadn't fallen yet. As for Kings? Rebecca had to draw on straws to find anything plausible. Knowing her luck, Mikael would turn out to be some king. Then her life would really be like the book.

               As the insistent tapping continued, Rebecca threw the covers off her with a sigh. If she didn't go find out what it was and stop, she'd lose her mind — not that she hadn't already lost it. The light flooded into her vision the minute she opened her eyes, so blinding it hurt. She closed her eyes, letting herself adjust to the light. A glance at the clock on her bedside table told her that she'd only slept for an hour and a half. Honestly, it felt like she'd never gone to sleep.

               Before she could think about everything from the past day, she focused on the tapping. It was her priority right now. Not the dream. Not Mikael.

               Padding along the carpeted floor of her room, she walked towards the window. From the kitchen she could hear chatter and laughing. Ignoring her parents, she weaved around her bed. If someone was throwing rocks at her window, trying to get her attention she didn't know whether she'd cry or laugh.

               The window wasn't hard to locate. Her room wasn't very big, a bed in the middle of it, against the back wall. Her bedside table sat next to it. Opposite the door to enter her room, was the window. It was just a basic square one, though it wasn't open like usual.

               Rebecca walked closer, unsure whether or not she really wanted to find out what it was. If it was someone tapping on her window, what was she going to do? Rebecca had no idea. She'd probably end up hiding and pretending she didn't know anything about it.

               The tapping got louder as she neared and something black flashed in her vision. It went by too fast to track and Rebecca stopped. Their house wasn't two storey but her room was raised above the ground.  

               Heart pounding, she waited for it to flash again—

               And burst out laughing.

               It was a bird flying into her window. A freaking bird.

               "God, I'm an idiot," she muttered, well aware she was talking to herself. "Now I'm paranoid about everything. Fly away,little bird, you can't get through the window." She was also talking to a bird now. Great.

               Rolling her eyes, Rebecca turned—

               And froze, her breath leaving her in one giant motion.

               Someone was standing in her room. Someone she'd seen just over two hours ago.

               In his hand, he held a note. Even from where she was, she could read it. King rule . . . Queens fall.

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~ Littlemissflawed