Work Text:
She sees things.
Sometimes they're blurry, like getting swallowed by a big fish. Other times, they're clear and somehow more real than everything else she knows.
She loves those the most. Aunt Sharon doesn't like it when she talks about them, so Amelia learns to keep them to herself, draws them and keeps them in a blue little lockbox under her bed. They're better than any story, better than those silly fairytales that Aunt Sharon tells her sometimes.
So she closes her eyes, and dreams of wild, impossible adventures and bowties and magic.
And in her dreams, there are stars.