A/N: Well this was a tedious chapter to write, but I hope it's not as tiring to read. Hopefully the next chapter will be uploaded shortly. enjoy
Okay, calm down. Don't panic. It's fine, absolutely fine.
Fine? How can it be fucking fine?
No. Stop shouting….calm down. What the hell have I been drinking? I'm collapsed on the floor trying to work out how the fuck I just saw a fictional character in my hallway.
He was definitely real Emmie, there is no point beating yourself up about it. He was there.
No, no he really wasn't. I have the wildest imagination in the world, everyone tells me that. I've been told it since the day I was born. My head suddenly really hurts so I let it fall forward into my lap. The smell of blood drifts up to my nostrils and I glimpse down at the gouge in my thigh; it looks bad. I ignore it though, there's something itching in the back of my mind to be heard…what it is though, I have no idea; it's just beyond reach. I touch the wound and my fingers are immediately coated in the sticky substance. It reeks. Shit, I think I'm going to vomit. I unsteadily get to my feet using the banister on the stairs to give me balance. Okay I need some bandages or plasters or something to stop this bleeding. I limp over to the kitchen and hopefully hunt through the cupboards trying to hunt down any form of medical box. Nothing.
What is up with you Emmie? Of all of the things you should know about this house is where the medical shit is, so why don't you?
I give up my frantic search in the kitchen and hobble back over to the stairs. Shit. This is going to be fun. Step by agonising step I climb the steps, gritting my teeth as I put pressure on my left leg. SHIT, that fucking hurts! After an excruciating minute I reach the last of the 14 steps. Two sets of seven…why that should mean something, I have no idea, but I have this feeling in the back of my head that it is. Ah shite, my brain is really hurting and I can't see properly. I take a right and stumble into my Dad's room. I squint through the dark trying to find the light switch. When I finally identify it I slam my palm into it, leaving the imprint of the rectangle on my hand. I practically crawl over to the wardrobe at this point. I'm in so much pain; I feel as if it's going to implode. I heave the oak doors open and use the right door to pull myself up. I can't see a box of any sort, let alone one that looks like it might be first aid. SHIT! I almost scream out in frustration, but that would be wasting energy. There's no one to hear me. Why the hell is this happening to me? Then I spot the black box right at the back, hidden behind several trouser legs. I grab at it spilling the contents of it onto the floor next to me. That's when I collapse and whack my head against the wooden door.
My throat is killing me when I finally awake and my head is pounding. I keep my eyes closed unwilling to bring myself back to reality. I can vaguely remember what happened, but I don't want that to become genuine. I'm happy here drifting through my thoughts, but I know that I have to open my eyes at some point. I hear birds chirping indicating that I've been unconscious throughout the night. If I listen carefully I can identify so many sounds: a clock ticking quietly…a leaking tap dripping in the bathroom next door…my breathing, my quite shallow breathing…and then an unwelcome sound of my mobile phone ringing. I groan and open my eyes. There's a stain on the ceiling – probably from dampness or something… My legs are stiff from the awkward position I've been lying in for god knows how long. I don't want to look down at myself, but I know I need to. This wouldn't have happened if my father was here…but he's not.
The stupid phone keeps on ringing…it won't leave me alone. Why can't you just leave me alone? Just leave me to sleep…
You have to get up Emmie, you know you have to.
No I don't, go away. No one cares about me really…
Yes they do, now get up; you've lost enough blood as it is, so pick yourself up and sort yourself out.
No, it hurts too much.
Get up.
I did finally get up, long after the phone stopped ringing. It took me ages to move my muscles. I have a huge lump on my head from the wardrobe door. My wounded thigh on the other hand is faint. I trace the scab with my fingers. I don't believe that it could have scabbed over night; it's just not possible. I'm sitting on the bed now, staining the white sheets. I stare into thin air unsure of what has happened. Then light dancing against the wall catches my eye. I look around me for what could be reflecting the beams and my eyes fall on a stone. It's lying in a pool of my blood. The stone in question must be a ruby or the likes…it's beautiful, huge. I've never seen a stone that big. I bend down and slowly reach out to touch it. Its surface is warm from the puddle of blood it's lying in. I can't tell if it is naturally red or if the sticky substance turned it the colour it is now. I remember the black box falling onto the floor as I grabbed it. I shuffle over to the small cube. It's lined with black velvet and has the definite imprint of the ruby it contained. Reluctantly I pick up the beautiful stone and place it back in its bed. I then return the box to the back of the wardrobe. I wonder why it's there. My father isn't exactly poor, but he's not loaded either. That gem must be worth millions, or even billions. Well whatever it is, it's entrancing anyhow. So stunning… Slowly I walk over to the en-suite bathroom adjacent to my father's room. I run a bath and perch on the toilet seat while I wait for the steaming water to fill the tub. After a couple of minutes I strip off the soiled clothes and lift myself into the water. Almost immediately the water turns red. I lie there for what seems like forever with my hair swirling around me contrasting to the hue of the contents of the bath. My eyelids start to droop and I let myself fall into sweet oblivion.
Reviews would be much appreciated. Tell me what you think :)