49: Cold Hands
Her hand was so cold in his. That was the only thing he could focus on. He couldn't see, all was dark. He couldn't see if she was breathing. It frightened him. She could be dead, since her hand was so cold and he daren't try to wake her up she were only sleeping, she needed rest to heal and what if she didn't heal because he kept waking her up whenever her hands felt cold and he couldn't see her breathe?
He was pathetic.
Her fingers moved, only slightly, but of their own volition and his heart nearly leapt into his throat and he held his breath, sitting completely still in case it had just been his imagination. She didn't move again.
Worriedly he started to trail his hand up her arm, moving at a snail's pace. It might just have been his imagination, but her hand was getting colder. It was a horrid minute before his fingers finally came to rest against her pulse, to weak to be felt in her wrist. But there it was! The flutter of blood rushing through her veins with her heartbeat.
He never thought something so simple could make him want to faint with joy.
Her hand was still ever so cold.
Hum… Don't know if I like ending here, but anything else I think of is too cheesy. I do not appreciate cheese! D=
Please review and tell me what you liked/disliked. ^_^
