Should I be working on Broken Reflection? Yes I should. But this idea has been in my head a while so I am going for it. On with the show!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing whatever.


Anna stared up at the ceiling, praying to whatever gods may be listening that she would be allowed to sleep. She needed the escape that only her dreams could give. It had been so long. She was so tired, but somehow she knew that tonight wasn't her night.

Footsteps echoed in the hall and she sat up, her back pressed up against the cold iron bars of her headboard. Please...please keep going. Don't come here. Don't find me. The door knob rattled against the lock. She stiffened, her hands clenched into fists. Then it stopped. A minute passed. Anna finally let out the breath she had been holding, relaxing as she allowed relief to course through her.

CRASH!

The door swung open with the sound of splintering wood and in lurched Anna's father. Anna sprang out of bed and settled into a fighting stance as the drunken man zeroed in on her. He swung heavily at her, but she dodged quickly. He growled and swung again. She stepped aside and he stumbled into the dresser.

"Don't you run from me, missy!" He shouted, reaching for her again. She backed away, eyes trained on his raised fist. So preoccupied was she with his attempts to strike her that she completely ignored what was in his hand. He grunted and threw the glass bottle hard at his daughter. It struck her temple with a sickening thud and down she went. He kicked her in the ribs as she lay on the floor.

"That'll teach you to lock your door," he snarled. Her reached down and picked up the bottle, leaving his daughter bruised and battered on the floor. Anna curled into herself, clutching her ribs and fighting the physical and emotional pain that had haunted her everyday of her life for the past six years.

Her mother had died when she was 10. To cope her father had quit his job and turned to alcohol. They moved around from one crappy place to the next as her father bounced between jobs that were barely legal...and a few that were completely illegal. He used his daughter as a vent for all of his frustration... his own personal punching bag. So it had been for 6 years.

Anna picked herself up off the floor and struggled back into bed without a sound. She never cried out. She never flinched. She fought back. She knew it wouldn't always be like this. She just had to hang on for two more years. Then when she was 18 she'd inherit the trust fund her mother had left her and she'd be free.

She collapsed into bed and drifted in and out of consciousness, lingering on the edge of a dream. She liked dreams. Especially since she had the same dream every time. She dreamed of an angel. Her lingered in her minds eye as she slept, watching over her...protecting her. She couldn't see his face or any features but she could see his eyes. His sad, red-brown eyes that carried the weight of the world...weighing her down. Keeping her safe.

She smiled in her sleep. One day she could sleep freely. One day her dreams would be easy and clear. One day she'd see her angel's face.

Two more years...two more years.


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