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Hazel had been having strange dreams lately.

It wasn't that unusual, if you considered everything that happened. It wasn't even that unusual for her, specifically. Back when she was younger, her mom used to say it was just what she deserved, playing so many video games all the time. She'd been nice about it though.

Now it was the crash, and the funeral, and the ensuing chaos and litigation and the way all her relatives looked at her. They weren't nice about it at all.

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One of the shrinks had prescribed her some pills for it. She didn't remember which one it had been. There were so many, all trying to talk to her in the weeks after, some who were with the police and some who were from the courthouse and some... Well, she didn't remember too well. Everything from back then was a blur. It had been hard enough trying to figure out which ones were on her side, and which ones just wanted to get something out of her that they could use.

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She wasn't sure if she ever figured it out, actually, but it probably didn't matter. She hadn't been in a state to talk. Whatever their intentions were, none of them got very much out of her. Even the account she gave in court had to mostly be constructed piecemeal from whatever she'd yelled out in her panic right after it had happened.

It didn't do her any good, either. She just got shunted off to one relative after another when all was said and done.

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She didn't even know where the pills were, if she wanted to take them... which was probably a good thing, but on nights like this, it sure didn't feel like it. She sat up, wanting to groan but stifling it. She was still surprised to find herself on a bed at all.

Her heartbeat, which had spiked for one terrifying moment, slowed again. Right. This was Uncle Cherry's house Somehow, she kept forgetting that she had come here... maybe because it just didn't feel real yet.

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After all, someone storming your aunt's house to come fetch you from the miserable situation you were in was a thing that only happened in stories, right? She'd read Harry Potter. At the time, she had thought it was this grand adventure, but she hadn't exactly been looking to try the whole 'living under the stairs' ordeal.

Life worked in funny ways sometimes.

She sighed, and fumbled around for her glasses. She could tell from the way her head felt that she wasn't going to be able to sleep any more tonight.

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She'd said--- thought--- 'room under the stairs', but it hadn't even been that at her last aunt's. They'd given her a futon at first, for her to set up on the living room floor, but after three days they complained that she was getting it dirty and took it away again.

After that, there wasn't anything but her and the floor, and maybe a couch pillow if she could sneak it off the couch after everyone else went to bed for the night, then sneak it back on before they woke.

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They'd found her with it once too, and the ensuing verbal lashing she'd received was bad enough that she hadn't really tried it again, after that. Which was what they'd wanted, she supposed.

And it wasn't entirely wrong, maybe, that she was getting it dirty, but... it would have been easier to keep it clean if they'd just let her shower. They hadn't let her do that either, and she never did find out why. At the time, it seemed like too much of a risk to ask.

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And now that she had gotten away, she just didn't want to think about it if she could help it. Uncle Cherry's house was kind of old, and the bathtub looked about as old as the rest of the house, but it was clean and she could use it. That was nice.

In his house, she had her own room too. She wondered what it had been before it was hers, since Uncle Cherry didn't have any kids, or a wife, or anyone else living with him, really.

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It was just the one of him... except now it was the two of them. And all things considered, she was glad he had the extra room, but she was also a little curious as to why he had a whole house to himself in the first place.

But not curious enough to ask. Not yet, anyway. She still didn't feel like talking too much, most days. He probably wouldn't have minded if she'd asked; she was pretty sure he was worried about how quiet she had been.

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She was sure he'd been chalking it up to trauma, which wasn't wrong either, but just the thought of it made her more sullen. This whole terrible tangle of things going on in her head could be summarized with just one little word... Just like her mother had been reduced to a pile of ashes and a nice thick folder at the prosecutor's office.

She unscrewed the lid off the bottle of water that she kept by the side of the bed, lifted it to her lips, and took a drink.

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She wasn't thirsty, but her mouth had gotten all dry and nasty-tasting the way it did when she had nightmares. She really ought to just brush her teeth a second time, but she didn't feel like it. The water was a compromise. It got rid of the taste. For now, that was all she needed.

Hazel didn't need to turn on the lights to find her way to the computer chair. She hadn't been here that long, but this short stretch of distance was something she already knew by heart.

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From the bed to the desk and back again--- how many times had she crossed this space since she came here? She hadn't been counting, but it must have been a lot. It wasn't like she went anywhere else. She lived her life split between these two places now, so it was only natural.

The press of a button, and the computer screen flickered to life. Hazel sighed as she heard the comforting, familiar hum of the desktop tower fans, felt the mouse sitting solidly in her hands.

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It was just a computer. It shouldn't have brought her as much comfort as it did, but all the same, she felt better almost immediately. She hadn't even done anything on it yet, but like an addict who felt his shakes ease up as soon as he had the cigarette in his hands... She took another drink from the water bottle, then keyed in her login credentials.

As her desktop screen pulled up, she adjusted her glasses, then opened up a few different programs to see which would come up first.

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None of these were what she had actually come here to do, but they were customary things she had built in and checked from time to time, just to be safe. She knew that if she told someone about it, they might think she was being paranoid, but some of the questions those shrinks had asked her after the accident...

Repressing a shudder, she forced herself to focus. That was the one thing that she was getting better at as the days went on: recognizing the thoughts that would freak her out before she had them.

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It felt like such a pathetically small step forward when everyone had been talking around her about how much she had 'regressed', but all the same, it made her life a little easier. And Uncle Cherry was supportive. Said she seemed to be in better spirits than she had been the last time he'd seen her. Which had probably been at the funeral, actually.

Uncle Cherry wasn't her real uncle. Or at least, he wasn't her biological uncle, as far as anyone knew. He wasn't her mom's brother, that was for sure.