The bottle of pills in her hand was to help numb the pain caused by the treatments. Luce didn't understand why she had to go through pain to attempt to rid herself of pain, but Professor McClair said it would be worth it if it worked. Lucille had her doubts.
Reaching towards the end of the bed, the girl dragged one of her jackets towards her and put it on. Standing up she then grabbed her sketchbook, a pencil, and a small night light and headed over to the window by her desk. Opening it as quietly as possible, she climbed out onto the fire escape.
The fresh Queens air gently caressed her face as she sat on the steps of the fire escape, breathing it in deeply. She flicked on the night light and sat it down beside her before opening the book and beginning to flip through it slowly.
To be completely honest, Lucille used to be horrible at drawing, but three years' worth of practice had improved her skills. Besides, she found that it helped her desk with the nightmares by everything into a visual like this; it helped her to focus. 
The journal was filled with drawings of what she remembered of that day in New York. The alien that had floated above her and her family, bringing nothing but destruction. After the news reports had been released about the Attack on New York, the girl had done her research.
The aliens were a race known as the Chitauri, led to Earth by a God named Loki. As in the God of Mischief from ancient Norse mythology. To be fair, there were guys running around who could turn into a big green monster and another who could throw a shield in a way that quite literally defied physics; so, why not believe in Gods also?
Turning to a fresh, blank page, Lucille began to draw tonight's nightmare. The lines followed what she saw in her head, recreating the alien that had attacked them that day on paper. She found this to be sort of like a coping mechanism when she couldn't put into words what she'd seen. 
This way, she was in control. She chose whether it got to bare its teeth or not, whether it swooped and destroyed buildings, or turned and went back to where it came from.
But no matter how many lines she drew, it didn't change what happened that day. And no matter how many times she drew it, she still saw it almost every night as she slept.
❋❊❋
The night felt like it dragged on. Luce had eventually gone back to bed, but sleep didn't come easy. She didn't have another nightmare, yet it still took ages for her to fall back to sleep.
Her alarm went off around six-thirty so that she'd 
make it to school on time. Climbing out of bed, She turned the alarm off before running my hands down my face. She hadn't slept much during the night the past few years but had just gotten used to it over time.
Pulling on a jumper, she walked out of her room and towards the kitchen, scraping her hair back into a ponytail as she went. Professor McClair was already there, the kettle boiling as she prepared coffee for everyone. "Good morning, Lucille."
"Morning, mum," she smiled as she helped her, spooning coffee into each mug. Lucille gazed back towards the hallway, before facing her mother once more. "How's dad doing?"
The woman hesitated as she poured the milk into the mugs. "Same as usual."
"Has he thought about that new procedure? Harry said that this is the latest in this line of treatment."
Pouring hot water into the mugs, Professor McClair shrugged her shoulders lightly, "I'm not sure, sweetheart. While I trust that Norman has your father's best interests at heart, we just can't afford it."
As the young girl went to grab two of the mugs, her mum stopped her, "Don't forget your medicine."