Yamazaki Household. 2am.
A steady moonlight shimmered through one of the many massive glass windows of the estate. The grotesque and broken pattern dancing onto the stained wooden floor so polished the light nearly reflected back to the moon. The room befallen by the moonlight had an eerie silence amongst it. The room whispered with nothing but a cold wind that ruffled the white lace curtains that threw a moonlit pattern onto a bed that dripped red silk sheets. The bloody color pooling on the floor from being kicked off by a pale figure that tossed and turned across the linens.
The body was created to be perfect. Artistically molded like clay to be the exact replica of every man's dream-body. Of every females' envy. Of every artists' views. Kanashimi Itami was nothing short of flawless in the light the Yamazaki doctor made her into. She was soft and white, slimed down with palpable curves. Her hair had a lush curl and was as dark as the midnight sky. Lips pink and supple, and brand new eyes, green as emeralds, that gave a blind woman the ability to see.
Tonight, the woman was restless. She tossed, turned, rolled, kicked, and this had been her first night of actual full sleep in weeks. She was a busy doctor, a busy woman, and she spent her time creating new ideas formed from her cleared mind.
In the darkness, the peace was suddenly pierced and broken by the murmurs of the woman, and the murmurs slowly increased. From mumbles of nonsense to talking...and then to screaming. Kicking and tossing, the woman screamed out in her sleep, digging her nails deep into the palms of her hands, screaming and kicking. Piercing the peace with the panic attack.
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