Apprehensively my sore crimson eyes flicker around, squinting through the thick darkness that seemed to swallow up my bedroom. The inky black felt like a suffocating blanket, smothering me with a paralytic sense of panic. I shudder, as if a finger were slowly being dragged across my spine, at the thought of what might be creeping around in the swamp of shadows, unseen by my tired eyes. A familiar sense of dread creeps over me and I cower away into the cool, feathery pillows lying limp and lifeless on my bed. Trembling, my fingers grip into the soft mattress.
All I have to do I shut my eyes to make them go away; I simply have to fall asleep. However my eyes refuse to close and as they scrutinize the endless murky dark, I feel tendrils of panic uncurl in my chest and my breathing quickens.
Cold hesitant light begins trickling in through my window, splaying a soft sheet of silver over my bedroom. I heave my exhausted body up and see that the darkness has suddenly become diluted by the soft light of the moon.
Warily, I inspect my bedroom and find it looks normal, somewhat disorganized, but without monsters or ghosts and I breathe out as a smile tugs on the corners of my lips. I know it’s childish to be afraid of the dark, but everyone is.
When you become immersed by the darkness the thing we rely on the most is disabled; sight. I wonder if its’ human nature to be so terrified of the unknown, of the unseen. We have no way of knowing what lurks behind that smoky dark wall until we hear it, or feel it’s sharp, rough talons clutched into our soft flesh. We all know that the fear is irrational, that monsters don’t exist because we can see that. However, once our eyes close all logical thoughts disappear; seeing is believing after all.
Knowing I would never manage to fall asleep now, my head rocked backwards and an exasperated sigh slips through my clenched teeth. I was extremely exhausted, especially since I hadn't been able to sleep for the past month; my pounding headache made sure I never got a moment of peace. My fingers gingerly press at my temple and I flinch as the dull pain intensifies from the slight pressure. The constant drumming in my head destroyed my concentration and left me seething from the pain and irritation.
My severe headache was the result of my sister’s screaming. I had no idea why she was so terrified as she slept, why her loud screech never ceased and seemed to echo in my mind like a never ending call for help, but help from what? If I knew I’d run to her aid, soothe her as best I could but she doesn't tell me…she just screams. Were they bad dreams? Or was she afraid of the dark, just like her older sister? I brought her some fresh lavender the other day, in hope that it with stop her yelling. It didn't work. She kept wailing for me, for anyone…
But now, for the first time in months it was silent. Could the lavender be taking effect? The blissful calm that settled over me seemed to pick at my worries and throw them away like rubbish. My eyes stray towards the window where the calming, pale glow continuously streamed in. Cautiously I place my feet upon the floor, half expecting a cold claw to curl around my ankle, and stand. The soft, silky scarlet sheets slip from my body as I haltingly step towards my window.

The moon that seemed to shine so brightly as it ate its way through the dark was only a sliver of silver dangling in the sky. Only the smallest piece of good was needed to defeat a swarm of bad… it was nice to have that reassurance.
The curl of light hung against the jet black, juxtaposing drastically against the dark, unmarred by the cotton candy clouds that usually concealed its beauty. Tiny pinpricks of sliver speckled the sky like glitter and twinkled like jewels. The epitome of perfection.
I wonder if I’m the only one subject to this stunning scene. If everyone else was asleep while the most exquisite landscapes were on show. Probably not but that’s the perfect conflict between people and dreams: some could care less, walking through them with passiveness. Some cherish them, but fail to remember them when they awake. Some loath them, and would rather stay in their reality forever… but I wish to stay in them infinitely, as it's the only escape from the rampant chaos of the real world.
Then I hear it. It begins as a single low, guttural moan drifting seamlessly into my room. It gets louder, the pain becoming more evident in the child-like cry and my tranquil state shatters, splintering across the hardwood floor.
Oh no, not again! My hands fly up and clutch at my ears as the piercing scream spears through my fragile mind and stabs into my sanity. Stumbling, my lithe body falls backwards. I just want you to stop, why can’t I help you? The thoughts swirling around my head are muted and shred, replaced by the cacophonous blaring of sobs, screeching and shrieking.
“I have to get out.” I manage to unintelligibly utter, my hoarse voice completely drowned out as my hands clasp around a jacket and I sprint across the room. Fruitlessly I pray she will stop or wake up; anything that will ease her pain, and mine, but she doesn't. Frantically I push the door open and slam it shut behind me.
Oh sister, why do you scream?

The cool breath of air sinks through thin jacket and leeches into my skin, curling around my frozen bones like fingers. I shudder as the midnight breeze envelops me and I twist my numb hands into tiny fists inside my pockets. The jacket was black and unified me with the shadows lurking around the cusp of the bronze trees. The quiet crackle of crisp golden leaves beneath my shoes were enough to soothe my tense nerves but not enough to drown out the screaming that echoed and tormented my mind.
What could cause you to be so terrified? Why can’t you tell me, so I can make it better for you; sisters were meant to comfort each other so why didn't you let me ease your pain?
Was I just a terrible sister, or was the answer to her fears hidden in plain sight?
My mother had forbidden me to see her in the middle of the night; as she spoke I saw the concern and fear etched into her eyes underneath her spider leg eyelashes as she instructed me to leave her alone. I don’t understand why mother doesn't want to help her, she leaves her to thrash and screech like she was being burnt alive without a second thought. I’m the only one kept up at night by her crying while my parents fall into a blissful slumber, completely delusional with the idea that she’ll be fine soon. It’s been months; she needs help.
I wonder if it’s because of the accident…it happened over three months ago. Could she be remembering what happened, the accident? Did her own mind torture her with the memories of the incident…could I help her?
My foot collides into something cold and hard, the odd sound of rattling resonates around the empty street and I look up. Thick, rusted iron gates stretch above me, standing tall and foreboding. Where was I? Curiously I peer through the gaps; my hands grip tightly onto the bars, which were as soft as marble, before I gasp and pull away realising they were as cold as ice.
I was at the graveyard, I note before pushing the gate open with as much strength as I could muster. The dead, frosted grass that crunches under my worn shoes looked like minuscule knives. As I walk forwards I wince at the loud clang the bars make when they swing closed. Luckily I was surrounded by the dead; I wouldn't want to wake anyone up.

Sullen, ashen clouds roll across the violet streaked sky; thunder groans echo between the soft wisps as they cry down sparkling crystal tears. Stabbing shards of light pierce the opalescent misty air like a blade. Fitting, wasn't it? As soon as I stepped foot into the graveyard the weather turned sour to pay their respects, raining down in lieu of tears.
I was careful to weave around the gravestones sprinkled over the field of icy blades, diligent to not stray from the uneven cobbled path designated for mourners. Two lone willows stood, observing near the back of the cemetery. Their long, coarse branch-like limbs swayed in the dry wind, beckoning me forwards. Despite how morbid it sounded I often visited this place, the air was infected with a certain grace and respect that made me feel quite melancholy. It helped to come to a place where you knew that everyone you whispered your deepest, darkest secrets to would keep them.
As I shuffled over the dusty paving stones I read the names carved carefully into the polished marble, names of people who once meant the word to someone else were now left alone in quiet serenity. Delicate pastel flowers lay rejected against the side of a few graves. They were the only living things within the protection of the iron gates, and even they were dying, expiring before my eyes. Everything becomes obsolete at some point, even flowers.
After a while of wandering I pause; slowly lower myself upon an enormous, jagged, serrated rock. My limbs lock into place and I become as still as the corpses lying beside me. When in Rome, do as the Romans. My scattered thoughts turn back to my sister.
Why do you scream? I turn my attention to the grave beside me.
“Why do you scream, sister?” I sob to nothing.

There’s not much I can do unless you tell me, tell me what’s wrong! Whatever you need to ease the pain I can do, I’ll do anything for you sister…I just can’t put up with that screaming anymore. The painful, petrified, endless screaming, it never leaves me. It’s a devil at my shoulder taunting me and reminding me I’ve failed you; I’m supposed to protect you from your fears and worries.
I sink to my knees, clutching my hair in my trembling fingers.
What scares you so much? Our parent’s may ignore the cries for help but I won’t, I’ll never ignore you. I love you.
My throat tightens uncomfortably and hot tears race down my pale cheeks.
Let me comfort you. Are you hurt? Do you have bad dreams? Of course… my hysterical mind travels back to my previous train of thought. You must remember the accident. I’m sure the memories must cause you such anguish, such misery. Maybe, if you had been more careful, then there would be no need for you to scream. If you were then you would be sleeping blissfully in your bed, with a sweet smile on your face; but don’t dwell in the past, dream of the future. You have to accept this was your fault, you should have been quiet.
You had such vivid nightmares; waking up in the middle of the silent night covered in a thin sheet of sweat as screams ripped from your lips. I told you not to yell, I told you not to screech while you slept but you didn’t listen…You made me do it, I didn’t want to but you forced me to sister. I just had to stop the screaming…Even now, three months after the accident, you continue the cries. I know how you must feel; I know how terrified you were.
How your body froze in shock and fear, as the reflection of the knife glistened in your beautiful emerald eyes. How your words choked up in your throat as I leaned over your shivering body, positioning the sharp, cool blade. You were so tense but if you had just relaxed it wouldn’t have hurt so much when I pushed the tip further and further into your chest, the dull ripping of muscle and vein only just perceptible over the sound of your cries… the bright crimson blood flowing from the deep wound and spilling over my hand, as soft as satin.
My knees are dirty from where I leaned over her grave. Dead, but still screaming.