The Gift Of Sleep [Allison]

Zuzana Bryant

The creaking sound of a door opening sounded and a drunk man appeared in the door opening. His footsteps were irregular, and his breath reeked of the beer he had been drinking. A young brown haired girl was sleeping on the couch, with a small thin blanket. It was warm, the air was thick with the heat. The sound of her father coming into the living room, woke her up. It always did for he came home late and sometimes with his drunk friends. Which meant that he would be dangerous slurring cuss words. When her mother was still alive, he had been calmer and easy going. Now his face was thin, white and often bruised. For he fought a lot in the pub, like some drunks do. He was know as a sleeping and aggressive drunk, though he never turned against his only daughter. Today he had fought and glass had found its way into his left hand. His slurred words made her move cautiously towards him, blood was dripping out of the wound on his hand, though the half concious man didn't seem to notice it; didn't feel it. She managed to push him towards the couch, on which he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the thin cushion. Now her job was to take care of the glass in his hand, from which he was bleeding heavily.

With a high pitched sound the young brown haired child woke up. Her breathing was heavy, and she dry heaved while she tried to shake her dream off. Her eyes warily moved from one point of the room to the other. In hopes to calm down, her hand shook while she breathed in deeply. Though Zanna was used to dreams about her past, this was one of the most scary ones. She was waiting for her father to turn up with one of the many wounds he had carried when he was still alive. She remembered his lifeless eyes; when she had found him dead after his last pub fights and had to fight away the heavy feeling on her stomach. Tears dripped out of her eyes, while she sniffed a bit. It had been a long time since the last time she had been this scared. The eight year old moved, to get out of bed before she tried in her panic to find the large door to her room. The room that Allison had given her when she had turned up looking for Kaz. The room was to small, even though it still was larger then many she had known. Zanna needed to move, to run. To get away from the dark room...

Innocence is like polished armor;
it adorns and defends

Zuzana Bryant

Zanna was on the brink of hyperventilation. Het breathing was fast and irregular, her hands twitched, and her body was ready to run. To move, to get out of the unseen damger. It was fight or flight, the knowledge of her father's dead came crashing down on the eight year old. Tears dripped freely from her face and in her anxiety she had moved towards the window. Looking outside into the familiar darkness of the night. Zanna tried to calm her breathing down, though she didn't manage it. She wanted Kaz or even Allison, even though the child was sure she could not find them. Not in a place as big as this and not if she was scared for every little sound, and movement.

The door opened, a soft sound was heard but the child did not dare to move. Her whole body was stiff with the distress she had experienced. Even though she had never told Kaz, it was the reason why she had no trouble staying up at night when she was alone, living om the streets. The eight year old was innocent in many ways, but experience. Her experiences were harsh, heavy and she could not bear them alone. "Zanna?" A warm voice, one she welcomed with a soft shake of her head, was heard by the little girl. Some footsteps followed and Allison didn't seem to have trouble finding the exhausted and scared child. Slowly she turned around, keeping her head down; as not to show her fear and tears to the brown haired lady. Kaz's wife. Her mouth moved, making silent sounds. Though there was no way for her to speak them out loud. The sounds were lost in her heavy, irregular breathing. Her hand shook, her whole body shook and the child took a shaking step towards Allison. Seeking permission to hide, seeking safety.

Innocence is like polished armor;
it adorns and defends

Zuzana Bryant

While everyone got a nightmare once in a while, this might have been more of a night terror. The young child had been scared out of her mind, with memories creeping up on her, like scary crawlers. There was a reason most females didn't like insects, the small, thin hairs on the back of her neck as well as her arms stood up straight. Showing the reaction of her body to those nightmares or night terrors as they probably should be described as. The brown haired girl did however manage to recognize te woman in the room, Allison. The nice woman that had been married to Kaz, had shown her more kindness then any other person that was alive; except from Kaz maybe.

The young girl took a shaking step in the direction of Allison. Her brown eyes dripping and wet with tears, who'm were making their way down her small face. Her body still shook, her legs had trouble holding her weight and her breathing was difficult and heavy. It seemed as if her body was trying to protect her against dangers that were not present. Allison approached her without hesitation, without questions before she sank onto the floor and took the shaking little firl into her arms. The child accepted the embrace, without any words, for even though her lips moved, the sounds remained somewhere in her throat, getting lost in the heavy breathing. A hand moving through her long hair, calmed her down a little. Unbeknownst to Zanna she shared her fear with Allison through her gift, one that she had not known about. She was magic, something she knew next to nothing about. The tears leaking from her eyes slowed down slightly while the girl grabbed a few fistfulls of the shirt Allison was wearing. It might have been just a dream, but it had scared her more then she wanted to admit. "It's all a bad dream, Zanna," The woman told the young girl. "I'm here," She was not alone, even if the dream made her believe such a thing. Allison was there. She was safe. The girl took a deep breath before looking at the woman with the pained expression. "Alli?" She whispered uneasily.

Innocence is like polished armor;
it adorns and defends

Zuzana Bryant

Every once in a while someone would be shaken up by an experience. No matter the age of someone, some things would always leave an impact one someone. In her case it was a dream; one that actually had been a memory. One that had returned from the depts of her mind; after being reunited with Kaz. Something that she had been waiting for to happen; she had missed him even though he always seemed to be around danger. Something that could have been saod about the young girl as well; living on the streets was not exactly safe. For now however she got a home or at least a place she could call home. Allison seemed to be a nice woman; while it took time to bond with another being; the girl had warmed up go her easily.

The panic she felt at reliving the memories, slowly slipped away; after the recognised Allison. After a deep breath she looked up at the young woman before painfully whispering one name; her name. It was good to see her, to not be alone in the darkest of hours. Not anymore. The child relaxed slightly with the next soft spoken words. "You're safe, doll," The soft touch on her head made her realise it was all a dream. Nothing to worry about. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." Kaz's wife promised her which made her nod slightly. The girl slowly reached out to Allison to give her a hug while suppressing a yawn. Zanna still felt slightly tired; but the emotions of the last few days or even weeks had taken a toll on her body. It was tiring especially for one that was still a child. One that needed to be nurtured and cared for. Her small hand finally grasped onto Alli's after which she looked up at the woman. Unknowingly she focused one of her thankful emotions onto the brunette. Something that she could not express in words and which she hoped that her face could express; what she didn't know was that she reflected her emotions onto Allison which meant that she would feel the thankfulness and slight sleepiness the child still felt.

Innocence is like polished armor;
it adorns and defends