Charlene drifted and tossed, not quite able to sleep. She rose from the bed and lit the candles in the sconces on the walls. Each wall held two sconces. She then lit her patchouli incense, a deep and earthy scent that filled the room quickly. It gave the room an exotic and gothic flare, the candelight flickering around the room. She moved to the window again and sighed, hesitantly unlocking it and opening it.<br/>"Nobody would be breaking in here, Char. Nothing here they would want."<br/>She threw herself back on the bed to toss and turn more. She liked to talk as though being alone didn't matter. Everyone viewed her as the easy life of the party. They rarely saw the lack of fire in her eyes. And none saw the scars she had put on her own thighs. She grumbled and groaned, trying to sleep and only succeeding in drifting into a light doze.