There wasn't anything in her normal or otherwise abnormal schedule that would have prompted it. She had made her rounds like a well-rehearsed waltz; graceful, but with a strain of mechanical perfection that made it uncomfortably synthetic. Alba Gale Delores woke up every morning from her comfortable bed in the Crystal Academy dorms and would eat breakfast, shower, and brush her teeth before an attempt at combing her hair was made. Some days she had the pleasure of greeting her roommate, and on others she'd be a blur of static electricity as she rushed to stuff papers in their corresponding folders before the looming bell rang. She'd try her best to write notes and pay attention in class before committing to her hobby choice of the day, and by the time the gates had closed and curfew established, she was leaping from roof top to roof top with a trail of ribbons in the moon light.

There were evenings more difficult than others, but in the end she made it safely back to her room, her bed always a welcoming sight within its down pillow and soft satin sheets. If those nights haven't caused nightmares to her by now, then they certainly weren't the ones that had infected her slumber with a deadly maelstrom.

She found herself amidst a hurricane in what appeared to be the middle of the ocean, with only a row boat built for one to keep her afloat. There were no coasts or mountains in her line of vision, though then again, being in the middle of a storm made it difficult to see anything past your nose. The wind froze her cheeks and precariously rocked her boat back and forth, sloshing more water within its wooden confinement. It was difficult to navigate, but with much determination (and lack of any other option), Alba was able to use her paddle to maneuver the boat and try to take it to a possible shoreline. There was a moment where she found it ironic to be on the receiving end as her face grew numb from the stinging rain drops, but she pressed on.

Hours had gone by, maybe even days; she wasn't sure which. The hurricane continued to torment on the weak and exhausted Alba, who by now was entertaining the thought of just throwing the paddle into the ocean's endless depths of despair and diving in. This can't be happening, or this couldn't possibly be real were repeated in her mind, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if she were right. Wouldn't a dream have ended by now? Would a nightmare feel so painfully real?

Please.

It was barely audible, but there it was: a call for help. A call she, as a sailor soldier, could not ignore regardless of her situation or lack of a fuku. Her arms screamed as she hoisted the paddle once more to get to the source, though this time, it didn't take her long to get to it: a familiar body thrashing about in the waves, a dark mass of messy hair and startling eyes as green as her own.

"SIMON!!" She screamed, though the boy would not be able to hear as his head sank from view. A panic closed around her heart and caused her to violently push on her worn paddle. She stopped in what she thought was the patch of water she saw him last and scrutinized the area, but had no luck. "Simon?" She called. "Simon?" She whispered.

Only the wind howled in reply.

There wasn't any time for her to grieve, as another voice echoed in her mind. Was it Simon? More water entered her boat as she moved, though oddly wasn't showing signs of sinking. There was a pale figure this time, with light brown hair knotted in a wet braid--Bell, her roommate. The girl opened her mouth as if to say something, and again, her head disappeared into the waves as though someone roughly pulled her by the ankles.

This became a common situation. She'd hear the call, she'd manage to paddle over, she could just barely reach their fingertips before they immediately sank. Everyone she knew and loved dearly found their watery graves in her ocean: Eve, Rea, her parents. Each one took a piece of her soul down with them, leaving her a human shell harboring guilt and turmoil.

And then there was Imogen. Alba's eyes were red from tears that could no longer stain her cheeks, her body a pulse of dull and intense aches and her paddle cracked beyond repair. Her only way of mobility was to use her own bare hands to claw at the water, though by now she was unable to feel them and were swollen to the size heavy bricks. However, this didn't stop her from getting to her most treasured companion, a person that had been a constant in her life with each transition that she could think of.

She lurched her body forward and reached her hands into the ocean to salvage her sinking friend amidst the tangles of red hair that had pulled around the surface. I will not let you go too, I will not let you die!! Desperation kept her hands searching, prodding, and finally: a limp hand to hold on to. She tightened her grip and leaned backwards to pull, but was startled as the hand she was holding onto suddenly clutched at her wrists.

"Imo?!"

The frozen hands tugged once, twice, and the little row boat swayed and dumped its contents into the ocean. More hands grabbed at her clothes, her hair, and her legs as she was dragged further down like an anchor. Her friends and family were all there, surrounding her and clutching at her. But they weren't happy.

"You've let us down." Simon sullenly stated.

"How could you not help us?" Rea and Eve spoke in unison, disappointment etched in their dead faces.

"You're a failure," her parents scorned, unable to look at their only daughter.

With each accusation she was pulled further still, her mouth clamped shut lest she'd loose more air. No. No. She tried her best. There wasn't anything more she could do, she tried-

Those turquoise eyes met inches away from hers, and Imo's face twisted into a sneer. "You will drown. You will pay for your crimes and your sins."

NO!

She tried to open her mouth but nothing came out. Her nostrils flared as she tried to breathe in the water, but nothing came into her lungs. Her body was paralyzed, she couldn't move or react to every word spoken, and she couldn't thrash away those clinging hands. Darkness surrounded her, she was beginning to feel faint from lack of air, and then-

The sound of coughing and wheezing filled her burning ears. The alarm clock that sat on top of her night stand blinked 4:32 a.m., and her small lamp filled the room with a dim yellow light. Bell was standing over her, relief coursing through her face. "Oh good, you're awake. Are you okay?"

Alba coughed a few more times and breathed long gulps of air before answering. "I...." She faltered. Bell was not dead. On the contrary, Bell was standing beside her and very much alive, and probably irritated to be up at such an early hour. "I had a nightmare. That's all."

"You weren't breathing. You sounded like you were trying to but you weren't, Alba, and your face was turning blue. Are you sure you're okay?"

Was she okay? It had all felt so real. Her pillow and sheets were drenched with what appeared to be her own sweat and her face was red and stained from crying. One by one they died before her eyes, one by one they dragged her to her hell. But did it happen? Bell's presence said otherwise. Alba's body slumped against her roommate as her arms wrapped around her waist tightly. She would never let her friends down again, by dream or by wake. "I am now. Thank you."

Her eyes would not shut again tonight, lest she see those swollen, accusing faces again.