(Disclaimer- I own no twilight characters, but i DO own annabelle hensley, and this entire storyline.)
Alrighty, here is the first chapter of the sequel to Sunrise. Please read and leave reviews. Enjoy, friends!
this is anna's point of view. OH. and if you haven't read my story Sunrise, please don't read this until you've
read that one!
Sunless
"Margaret?" I heard the voice before I saw the face appear in the crack of the open door. For a split second, the outside world swirled into view, and I caught a quick glimpse of the long hallway, the men in white carrying little trays of food. I shrunk in the corner of my cell, trying to escape the woman with the bright red lips and the curly white hair as she pressed the door closed. I hated her. Her milky blue eyes made contact with mine, and I shoved my face into the wall, hiding from her like a child. I didn't care what she thought of me. I was beyond troubling myself with such trivial insecurities. Who cared if I acted like a child? Nobody cared at all.
"My name is not Margaret." I grumbled against the soft white of the wall. My fingers traced the shape of the square bubble, identifying the padded wall with the flesh of my hands, committing it to memory once more. She clicked her tongue. I watched her shake her head in my peripheral vision. I grinded my teeth together, trying to control the rage that'd built inside of me, swelling to the point of explosion over the past month. She pursed her lips.
"Now, now. I thought we'd discussed this—" She started, voice sympathetic and professional all at once. I despised her voice. I wanted to rip her throat out. Shove her pricey high heel past her perfectly lined lips. Old women never looked nice in lipstick. Someone ought to have told her that.
"I know my name. And it's Anna." I interrupted. I twisted my face from the blinding white wall to watch her flinch at the venom in my voice. Her glasses slipped down the bridge of her nose as she inspected her spiral notebook, checking to see if I'd told her the correct name. I supposed, seeing as I was in a mental hospital, things such as my name were not to be trusted when leaving my mouth. What did I know, right? I grinded my teeth again as she nodded slowly.
"I see. It seems that I've misspoken. I do apologize for that, but you must be able to see why I might not have thought that you'd know, either. With your identity crisis and all, I mean." I pushed up from the corner, letting my back slam against the wall, still as far as possible from her, but now allowing her to see my face. I knew by the result of her horrified expression that my face was murderously angry. I kept my fists balled into my stomach, holding them there so that I wouldn't strike her face. I let one lone finger slip up to greet her. She gasped as a smile crept over my mouth.
"Annabelle Hensley!" She scolded, checking briefly to make sure that she'd gotten the name correct before she spoke. I rolled my eyes at her. You'd think that after all of the times she'd seen me she'd know my name. But who was I to judge, right? I was the crazy kid. Maybe I'd imagined her coming to see me all those times before like I'd supposedly imagined everything else. That's what she'd told me, anyway, that I'd imagined everything. I was definitely blessed to have been assigned this nice psychoanalysis woman. Some psychiatrist she was. I snorted.
"Shove it up your ass, old hag." I would have laughed at the bewildered expression on her face as I spoke the words. I would have laughed just at the fact that the words had proceeded from my very lips. But laughter had avoided me since I'd woken up that horrible night. I shuddered against the white wall as I remembered that dreadful awakening, feeling the searing pain inch up my chest. My teeth clicked together as I attempted to conceal the vomit in my mouth. I swallowed hard, feeling the acid slide back into my hollow stomach. Carol watched me with a hard expression, probably trying to figure out what she'd do with me. That seemed to be the only question on everyone's mind lately: "What do we do with the crazy girl?" I wanted to knock each and every one of them out. Turn the light off on their normal lives like they closed the blinds on me. Screw them. I hated them all. How could they betray me like this? My own parents?
I shoved against the wall, standing in the corner with my face buried in my hands. There was no way that I'd let her see me cry. I listened intently as her footsteps reverberated throughout the tiny room, coming closer. I flung my arms out behind me, hoping to hit her, happy almost that my arms were free to do so.
"Get the hell out! Leave, now!" I screamed. A soft, defeated sigh passed her lips and blew my hair gently into my face. I could feel the heat of her sagged skin behind me. I didn't like having her so close. I wanted to leave her, to escape this cold, sunless room.
Sunless.
My heart ached. I couldn't breathe. I sunk to the soft floor as she slipped out of the room quietly, my breath coming in short little rasps. I couldn't seem to get the oxygen to my lungs. It swirled in my mouth, tasting like poison. I felt dizzy. My eyes strained to focus on the room, but they were clouded with a hot, familiar, imaginary red. I squirmed against the wall, no longer sure where the floor was. Everything felt the same. My head was too messed up to pull me back to the present. The red of his face was all I could see, the warmth of his flesh all I could feel. I choked on the tears flowing from my eyes, choked on the imagined love that strangled my tortured heart.
I felt so tired. So very tired and drained. I just needed to close my eyes. Just for a little while. But I couldn't allow that. I didn't want to feel the pain of having to dream. Dreams only hurt me. Dreams had landed me in this place, landed me on this cold wall, this cold floor, writhing in agony. Dreams had made me love him, made me hope. Dreams had given and taken everything from me. Dreams sucked.
But not nearly as much as reality.