There’s a girl nicknamed Sleeping Beauty here. I guess she’s been here a while. One of the other girls, Beckett, likes to go into her room and steal stuff. She seemed appalled that Sleeping Beauty even had stuff to begin with. But then Dr. Hawthorne mentioned that her brother still holds out hope she’ll one day wake up.
Because of that hope, he spends money on giving her a private room, and he fills it with things she used to like. I guess the thought behind it is that if she does wake up, she’ll feel safe and protected.
Isn’t that the saddest thing you’ve ever heard?
A lot hinges on an if.
Beckett has been told to stop stealing from her. One of Dr. H’s nurses caught Beckett in the act, and Beckett was moved to a different building.
That means a new doctor and all that.
But it’s piqued my interest, Saint. I can’t stop thinking about this girl who’s apparently not going to wake up, surrounded by treasure.
Whoever gave her the nickname probably nailed it on the head.
Did she prick her finger on a sewing needle, or whatever that cursed object was?
Is she surrounded by thorns, guarded by a dragon?
It’s given me something to focus on, at any rate. Everyone is starting to decorate for Christmas, which will be here in two days, and everything reminds me of what I’ve seemed to have lost.
You. My brother and his family. Antonio.
The list would go on. It’d include Nyx, Reese, hell, even Kade can be thrown on there. Not that any of them aregone-gone except Nyx.
So maybe she’s the one who will be with me this holiday season.
Now that I think about it, I can blame her bad influence on my need to see Sleeping Beauty. She would’ve been just as curious as me.
I hope you’re well.
Give everyone my love.
Merry Christmas.
Artemis
My letter does not addressthat he told me he loves me.
It does address my burning curiosity, which I seek to satiate immediately. As soon as I finish writing, I shrug on my zip-up sweatshirt and those stupid slip-on shoes.
Room 109. I haven’t had a reason to even go down there until now.
Well, okay, I don’t really have a reason.
I’m just gonna go, see what all the fuss is about, then leave.
Some part of me assumes she’s going to be the boogeyman. Or perhaps she’s not actually asleep?
Imagine if she was pretending?
Then letting Beckett get away with theft would be savage. Borderline criminal.
Everyone is busy with holiday preparations. They’re doing a tree-decorating contest in the dining hall, and then a Christmas movie after dinner with hot chocolate and popcorn. Theresidents*all seem to have accepted that they’re here for the winter, if not longer.
But not me. I’m just visiting, per the asterisk.
Maybe it’s an extended visit.
