The small room was an empty void; stretching and turning like an animated creature as she attempted to pry open her swollen eyes. Everything seemed larger, out of proportion, as if she was somehow even more alone because the expanse was greater. There was more distance to cover to somehow get away from the loneliness.
As her groggy mind began to process the shapes and colours distorting in the room Joan felt a wave of nausea sweep over her, leaving her unable to even get as far as lifting her head, let alone sitting up. Moaning slightly she felt a cool, familiar hand stroking her forehead, trying to comfort her as the searing nightmares of her sleep slipped into tepid delusions, the imprint hovering over her vision for a few minutes before melting away and leaving only the pounding pain that hung around her temples.
The sharp pain drilling into her skull dulled as she stopped trying to move her head, allowing it to rest gently on the pillow as she looked to the sofa, seeing her Mother fast asleep. Her fluttering eyelids let Joan see brief flashes of the figure standing above her, palm pressed softly over her skin, oozing calm and relief.
As she felt her eyes close, Joan felt more alone than she ever had, because she knew in her heart that she wasn't ill. If nobody had believed her and it had only been her illness that had caused the things she had seen to appear, then she could accept that, she could cope. But as the form God had chosen stood over her, watching over her, Joan knew although he had not left her all alone that would simply cause everyone else to do so, giving up on her one by one as they decided she was crazy.
And as she tried to decipher between reality and fever-dreams Joan felt salt-hot tears track her skin, melting away as her eyes closed and unconsciousness took the dilemma away. For a while.
As her groggy mind began to process the shapes and colours distorting in the room Joan felt a wave of nausea sweep over her, leaving her unable to even get as far as lifting her head, let alone sitting up. Moaning slightly she felt a cool, familiar hand stroking her forehead, trying to comfort her as the searing nightmares of her sleep slipped into tepid delusions, the imprint hovering over her vision for a few minutes before melting away and leaving only the pounding pain that hung around her temples.
The sharp pain drilling into her skull dulled as she stopped trying to move her head, allowing it to rest gently on the pillow as she looked to the sofa, seeing her Mother fast asleep. Her fluttering eyelids let Joan see brief flashes of the figure standing above her, palm pressed softly over her skin, oozing calm and relief.
As she felt her eyes close, Joan felt more alone than she ever had, because she knew in her heart that she wasn't ill. If nobody had believed her and it had only been her illness that had caused the things she had seen to appear, then she could accept that, she could cope. But as the form God had chosen stood over her, watching over her, Joan knew although he had not left her all alone that would simply cause everyone else to do so, giving up on her one by one as they decided she was crazy.
And as she tried to decipher between reality and fever-dreams Joan felt salt-hot tears track her skin, melting away as her eyes closed and unconsciousness took the dilemma away. For a while.
