Pain.
Pain.
Agonizing.
Darkness.
Just a bit longer.
Not for long.
Just for a fue more minuites.
Ringing.
Shrill ringing.
My head.
Please.
Help.
I awoke, screaming, to my mother, Daphne, shaking my sholders, an agonized glimmer in her eyes. I expected pain. Agonizing pain.
No pain.
No pain?
No pain.
'M-Maria? Maria? Please wake up! B-baby girl? Ria! Please hun...' My Mothers cries echoed around my head. Shut up. Shut up. The pain. Agonizing pain.
Awake?
Awake?
I am awake!
Aren't I?
Glowing.
Light.
Stinging.
Can't look away.
Beautifull.
DEVINE...
DARKNESS...
_
Scrambling bolt upright, I scanned my surroundings. My room? No it can't be! Another glance confirmed it. It had seemed so real. Yet... Daphne? Maria? What? Brushing my damp, sweatdrenched hair back I tried, i honestly tried to put it away, pass it off as just another nightmare. One of the many i get.
With shaking, trembling legs I get out of my bed. No sleep for the wicked, whisperd my traitorous mind. No sleep for the damned.
Carefully, to make as light noise as possible so as not to wake Luke and my mum, Jocelyn Fairchild, I made my way to the sloping staircase leading down to the level with my parents.
Come on. Come on! I thought to my self. If only I could make it down the second flight of stairs, almost th-'Creek'- Back-stabing, unreliable, two faced...
Carying on with allthese insults I was obviously sending telipathicly to the stairs. I do love some good sarcasm! She said in her mind in a too bubbly immitation of her mothers voice. I do that alot as well.
Im crazy.
It's Officialy official.
Wait. that made no sence.
Time for a midnight coffee break!
Nothing. No sound of aproching clatters of feet on the wood and tiles. I do hate the night-terrors. Not nightmares. Worse. I dont wake untill the end. I remember everything. Feel everything.
_
In the morning, as i got out of my cosy cocoon (that I made out of my black cotten duvet. not silk. Never silk. The texture of sink is just... it sends a shiver down my spine just thinking about it. NOT a nice an apealing. any one else hate the word nice?)
Placing my feet on the cold, dark wooden floors, i groaned as i clicked my neck because i fell asleep wrighting my fan fiction The Agony of the Mind based on The Killing woods by Lucy Cristopher. My favourite book. I walked to my shower room. No baths, I don't do baths. Never.
I striped off my cotten, ox blood red pajamas and got into the already steaming water pelting down on the ivory and black tiles, befor dribling in rivers to the small drain at the back of the shower. Stepping into the scalding water i sucked in a breath through my teath.
Crap.
Shit.
Stumbling out of the showers hot rivets, I viciously turned the silver coloured knob.
Knob! Ha!
Immature I know but jeez. Laughing i got into the slightly cooler water and sighed. Showers always felt beter after the night-terrors.
Always.
