EPILOGUE

The morning sun shone brightly through the open shutters, streaming across the bedroom in lighted strips. A large wardrobe stood against the left wall with doors open, revealing shirts, skirts, dresses and folded pants in assorted colors. A small but very full laundry basket in the farthest corner was bursting with clothes, towels, and sheets in need of detergent, awaiting their turn to be washed and dried. French doors leading from the bedroom to the rest of the unseen house were covered with heavy curtains, hiding the mess inside from the other occupants of the residence. Against the right wall stood a chest of drawers, not every drawer quite closed, so that the strap of one bra or the leg of one pair of jeans peaked over the tops their respective compartments, reminding their owner that they were there. On the floor were books; large and small, thin and thick, books of every color and genre were stacked precariously, suggesting that the only thing they were in need of was a shelf to call home. A box of shoes was situated half concealed by more clothes that needed folding, and various sheets homework that needed doing. Clutter occupied the room, but so did a feeling that everything was in its proper place, exactly where it could be found and appreciated. A group of stuffed animals lay near the laundry basket, and some random sketches of deep, intense eyes lay abandoned beside them, as if the artist had tired of attempting to perfect the particular green of the irises, trying to capture the true essence of whoever's eyes they were meant to be.

And right up against the wall with the window and shutters was a four post bed, covered in blankets and a comforter with a beautiful red duvet, assorted decorative pillows tossed about, and the still form of someone sleeping.

The red numbers of the digital alarm clock showed 9:30 AM, and the dark-haired girl in the bed bolted upright, gasping as she awoke with a start.

Breathing heavier than one is expected to when barely waking, she cast her gaze about the room frantically, as if expecting to be in another place, in another time, in the company of…someone. Wide eyes blinked as recognition registered in her expression, and her breathing slowed as she took in the sight of her bedroom, her furniture, her clothes – her home. Emotions flashed in rapid succession across her face; fear, shock, confusion, relief, despair, revelation…and then a pronounced sadness coupled with an unwillingness to accept. Slowly, as if unsure that the floor would hold her, she left the bed, seeming to feeling with her hands across her arms, her face, her chest and stomach, looking like she didn't believe they were all there. Her eyes watered slightly, only slightly, as she moved to the curtained doors, pushing the fabric aside and pulling the doorknob, stepping into a quiet hallway. She looked to her left, seeing the closed door of a master bedroom, hearing the soft sounds of breathing that came from her still sleeping parents inside. She turned to her right and walked, passing the stairs that led down to the first floor, passing the loft, hand automatically lifting to feel the necklace that was always around her neck. Unconsciously fingering the metal that served as her chain's pendant, she came to the doorway of another sleeping person, a young boy who snored softly, legs curled under him and a spiderman figurine clutched in hand. Her already watering eyes flooded just the smallest bit more, but did not overflow. She turned away from the doorway, following the hallway to the bathroom at the end of it, letting go of the necklace she didn't know she was fumbling with and grasping the door knob.

Fighting a small sob, she took one look behind her, as if to confirm whatever it was she wanted so badly to deny, to refute. Just before she pushed the bathroom door open, she uttered just one whisper, more to herself than to anyone that might have heard.

"Just a dream."

She turned the knob, pushed open the door, and faced the mirror that was on the wall of the bathroom. She took in the sight of herself, and her eyes widened in an outrageous combination of horror and relief, her mouth gaping and gasping. She raised her hand to her mouth, trying and failing to stifle the sobs that came unbidden now, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto the tiled floor as she crumpled against the bathroom wall, a heap of wracking sobs and cries of both anguish and gratefulness.

The mirror still reflected her black camisole and red pajama pants. It revealed her tan skin and dark hair. And it showed the necklace around her neck; not a chain at all, not a broken key, but a black leather cord with a small, bronze colored amulet that hung giving her all of the proof that she would ever need.

Down the hall, her sobs echoed. Down the hall, her slumbering brother's eyes opened from sleep. Down the hall, the nine-year old boy heard the sounds of Anna crying – and he smiled.

He smiled with absolute pleasure as his usually brown eyes flashed a sickening shade of unnatural yellow.