Darcy could see herself, her younger self. A scene that she never would've wanted to remember.

A dismal classroom, boulder gray brick walls like a cloudy sky had been captured inside, with dusty lighter tones from years of maltreatment. And there was her mother, a concerned look on her face as she warily connected with the taller male, her old schoolteacher.

"She's doing fine, her marks are improving. Better than anyone in her class." The teacher commented, his tone with her mother impressed as usual with her daughter. "I'm just... worried- about how his death will affect her."

"I assure you, her performance is improving if anything. That girl is brilliant, beyond her years." The teacher smiled. "She's simply reserved, she focuses on her studies."

"I suppose..." Darcy's mother stared right through her, and the teen could just feel that this was a dream, she wasn't actually there. But when she turned, she could see her younger self going to study a textbook she'd memorized front to back.

"She's already studying algebra. I see no need in limiting her pursuit of knowledge." The teacher advised, following the gaze of Darcy's concerned mother.

*They have no idea. So ignorant.* The thought came in a flash, passively without any warning. And as quickly as it flowed in, she shoved it back. The work had distracted her, using her sadness to push herself further until she couldn't feel the grief and the heaviness anymore.

"But she needs to learn to be kind... she's gotten so secluded, hiding in her room-" Darcy's mother persisted. "If anything, her social skills have regressed."

"Social skills won't be important in a crafting trade, much time is spent perfecting your profession. Not much communication required, misses."

Oh, how that insulted Darcy. Her social skills had only developed further, she found herself in control of the majority of situations.

But along with the superior thoughts, the floor began slipping right from under her heels. Dragging her along with it as they faded and shifted into a different room altogether, on the other side of the city. Back in her home, in her sleeping room.

Her icy gaze thawed for a mere moment as they rested on the same young girl, herself, curled up in her sheets and refusing to speak. *Right after he died.* Another passive thought that just, happened, like the dream itself was reminding her.

And yes, she had been silent for a week after the passing of her father. Only willing to work, never wanting to see her family until she was able to talk to them on her own terms, and not with her emotions. "GET ME OUT OF THIS..." The teenage Darcy shouted into the memory room, and as requested, her head jolted up on her desk, the chime of five in her ears.

Five o-clock... time to begin.