The light from the moon streamed through the open window and illuminated the sleeping figure of the auburn haired girl who festered under her hand-made blankets. Vanessa didn't generally need them all to keep warm at night, but the old stitched quilts had sentimental value. Two of them were the products of her grandmother's handiwork; neatly put together, impeccably stuffed and sewn. The third was pink, which her mother had knitted for her during her first pregnancy. John Jr had a blue one just like it, the only thing, aside from life, that their mother had ever been able to give him.

The absence of her mother in her life was not something that Vanessa had ever been able to accept, or even get used to. It was simply something that, in a sense, she'd learned to live with. She'd been very young when Mrs. Rae had passed away, after delivering John Jr to the world, and the few memories she had left of the beautiful woman were hazy. But it was the indefinite nature of these memories, which were so precious despite the mist that surrounded them, that hurt the most. Vanessa was terrified of losing them, because it would mean losing her mother all over again.

Her dreams tonight were not good dreams.

There hadn't been any good dreams for a long time.

Slowly, they were getting worse.

---

A striking woman in a yellow sundress sat in front of a birthday cake. Her dark hair was tied back into a lovely braid that framed her face and made her golden eyes pop. Vanessa had a funny feeling that she knew this woman, but could not remember her name. It bothered her.

There were no candles on the birthday cake. Vanessa approached the table upon which it sat, and found that moving through this air was like moving through water. Her every action was exaggerated and forceful, but it seemed that the harder she tried to reach the table and the birthday cake and the woman, the farther they were. With every step forward she took, they slid backwards; out of focus, but not out of site. Vanessa wanted to scream in frustration, but found with some alarm that her mouth had melted shut. She had no lips. No tongue. No teeth.

"You have to swim," suggested her father's voice, although he was nowhere to be seen.

Vanessa thought this was very strange advice. How could he expect her to swim through the air?

"Swim," Mr. Rae's voice repeated. It was an order this time. "You will drown if you don't swim."

Vanessa thought that this was very good advice. She had no desire to drown. Her brow furrowed with concentration and, throwing caution to the wind, Vanessa jumped into the air. It caught her before she fell and, heart soaring with joy at her success, Vanessa doggy-paddled towards the woman and her birthday cake. It was much easier going this time, as every kick of her skinny legs through the viscous air propelled her closer to her target.

She tried to breathe, but her nose was missing. Her golden eyes swelled with horror at the site, and then Vanessa wondered how, exactly, she could see her face without a mirror.

"Don't be afraid," said the beautiful woman at the table. "Do you know who I am?"

The auburn haired girl had no mouth with which to speak, but she tried to anyways. The words got lost in her throat. They were loud and made her head ache. They were thick and made her choke.

"You don't know who I am," the woman sounded sad. Vanessa felt like she was dying. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't see straight. Couldn't think.

"It is your birthday," said the woman. Vanessa could only nod as she bobbed in mid-air. "But your cake is missing candles."

The birthday cake blinked at the pair of them. Its pink icing looked poisonous.

"Here," said the woman, "I've got some for you."

Vanessa held out her hand, palm upwards, and waited expectantly for the woman to place some candles there. Instead, the woman started to hack. Vanessa watched in shock as the woman's light brown skin slowly turned white, and her shoulders shook with the force of her coughs. She longed to reach out to her, to help her, but suddenly Vanessa had no hands.

A strange sort of foamy spittle oozed out of the corners of the woman's mouth, and Vanessa gave it her best Einstein expression. Something terribly fishy was going on here. Slowly, Vanessa was beginning to realize that the spittle wasn't spittle at all. Steamy tears of the same thick, waxy substance leaked from her eyes and scalded her shallow cheeks.

The woman's coughs transformed into ruckus barks that made the floor tremble. Vanessa's heart thundered in her chest as she watched, certain that the woman would die and was helpless to stop her if she did.

Death did not come for her, but as Vanessa watched the woman hunch over the birthday cake and throw up bloody candle after bloody candle, she hated herself for wishing that it had.