Cassandra Tennyson
 
Fifth Year[M:10]
"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." -Ben Franklin
Posts: 28
|
Post by Cassandra Tennyson on Feb 17, 2013 20:21:52 GMT -5
Cassie hopped up onto the window sill in the Owlery. She looked out at the grounds with teary eyes. It was fairly early in the morning, the sun hadn't even made it's way up over the mountains and treetops. It was doubtful that many other people were awake so early on a Saturday morning. Cassandra tenaciously wished she could still be in her soft dormitory bed, sound asleep and dreaming. However, she hadn't been able to sleep at all.
It was her mother's birthday. An especially difficult time of the year because it always brought up each horrible moment of the last time she saw the woman. The repressed memory of her step-father's abuse came rushing back in the nightmares that had plagued even the very idea of sleeping the previous night.
Even with the crisp, early morning air snipping at her face, Cassie felt herself fighting to keep from drifting out of reality and back into her own traumatic memories. She tried to use the soft hoots coming from the sleepy owls ready to start their version of night as a way to stay grounded, but it became increasingly hard. Even worse, the tears had begun their silent descent down her cheeks as the memories played on and on in her mind. |
|
