One-shot, a little dark. Elena's dreams were plagued with nightmares...
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This is written a little darkly.
Ever since that fateful day, when her family received “The Visit” from Shin-Ra officials, Elena’s nights had been plagued with horrific dreams. She would dream of what her sister’s body must’ve looked like before it was covered by a white sheet. She’d dream of Andrea’s funeral and her mother’s tears. Elena knew she would never forget the sound of her mother crying.
Sometimes, Elena would even dream that she was Andrea. She would be her sister, going into her final mission as a Turk, trying to avenge her fallen comrades, only to be killed by Zirconiaide herself. She’d feel all the pain in the dreams; both physical and that of mourning.
Elena would wake up screaming, drenched in sweat and face stained with heavy tears. Her body would ache for days sometimes. She wanted nothing more than to make the nightmares stop.
“I’m so sorry, Andrea!” she’d scream into her empty, dark room.
She had a mirror over her dresser and every time she looked into it after a nightmare, she’d see Andrea in it rather than her own reflection. Her older sister would be looking at her coldly, angrily, and disappointed in her. Andrea never said a word when she was in the mirror, just shake her head and turn around to leave.
Elena prayed for the nightmares to come, though. The one time they didn’t, she woke up in the middle of the night at the feeling of someone staring at her. Andrea’s spirit was standing next to the dresser, gun in hand, looking at her with no expression on her face. She spoke softly, firmly, and bitterly:
“I knew you’d wanted me to die.”
Elena screamed so loudly that the family living in the apartment next door called the police. They had barged in, guns in hand, finding Elena shaking in the corner, crying harder than she ever had in her entire life and whispering apologies.
She spent her days fighting off the delusions that she was her brilliant sister. That instead of taking twelve years of piano, she’d had nine years of opera lessons. Rather than wanting to be a teacher, she’d begin to believe her childhood goal was to become a cop. Elena would shake her head violently when that happened; that wasn’t her; that wasn’t what she was about. She was a nice, friendly girl who wanted to empower the lives of the next generation.
She was a nice girl.
Elena really didn’t think so sometimes. She had been popular in school, she had friends, the people she worked with liked her, but she’d harbored a secret for a while. She could never tell anyone what it was, and not for the childish reason that it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. It was because it was something truly awful she’d done at a family gathering when Andrea came home with stories of her successes while on the job.
‘I wish Andrea was dead,’ she’d thought.
She was immediately taken aback by her own mind. There was no way she really wished that, right? The night when Andrea visited, she certainly believed it to be true.
Elena had taken the week off from work to think after the frightening encounter with her sister’s spirit. She figured out that the memory of that thought must’ve been the cause of her nightmares. She wished death on her sister, so death came for Andrea and Elena felt guilty. She decided that the only way to expel the horrid dreams once and for all would be to pick up where her sister left off. Andrea had been fully dedicated to the Turks, so why couldn’t she be?
Elena made up her mind to go down to the Shin-Ra building and enlist in the Turks. She’d heard that there were only three or four left, so surely they’d be in need of more hands. Elena really wasn’t too worried about getting the job, either. Andrea had never shown much emotion, but it was easy to tell that she’d loved her coworkers dearly. Elena knew she could handle a job as long as she had nice people to work with.
For now, it was nearly midnight and Elena needed some sleep. She was excited; this nightmare would be one of her last. She curled up in bed and turned out the light. She looked over at the mirror above her dresser and Andrea was looking back at her with that same betrayed expression.
“Goodnight, Andrea,” Elena said. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Andrea’s eyebrows raised under her bangs and with a small nod, she turned around to leave.