Love and Hate
A dark shadow looms over something. Then reaches for whatever it is.
Her eyes flutter open and her dark chocolate eyes stare at the white ceiling. It's all too bright, but it couldn't possibly be the light of Heaven. Her head rolls to the side and her eyes close again in fatigue. She breathes slowly; as if she needs to try and remember how to. A constant beeping eventually coaxes her to open her tired eyes again. She looks at the monitor through glassy eyes without actually seeing it. Her hand reaches out and tries to grab onto something, but there's nothing near her. No one comes to help her, or to give her more medicine. No one at the building even seems to care at all.
She writhes on the bed. Her face scrunched in an agonising pain. Her lips are pressed together tightly as she tries her very hardest to keep from crying out in her torture. Her eyes are her silent pleas for help. Her hands close around the covers and pull them up and around her. The machines start to beep loudly and frantically. Still no one comes. She curls into a ball and whimpers quietly to herself. A soft click reaches her and the pain recedes immediately. Her eyes widen in surprise before she closes them in a kind of acceptance. She buries her face in the pillow and becomes as still as she can. A hand reaches for her shoulder and nudges her gently. She daren't show any signs of acknowledging them though, they could be untrustworthy.
"It's okay," the voice says. A calm, kind, trustworthy voice. "No one's going to hurt you."
She peeks up at the kind woman with cold eyes. The woman doesn't recoil or flinch like she had expected, or even, perhaps, hoped. The woman just stands there and smiles. She kicks the covers off and swings her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes are fixed on the ground as she scowls. The woman frowns at her before deciding to look over her chart. She's suddenly hyperaware of her left arm and instinctively moves to cover it, but she can't risk them finding out. Her eyes close and she sways for a moment. Two hands catch her arms and she looks up into the woman's warm eyes.
"You know, if we're going to help you then you need to tell us your name," she smiles, warmly.
"Selene," she replies.
"That's a nice name," the woman says.
"What's yours?" she mumbles.
"Martha," she smiles. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen," Selene replies.
"You're good. It looks like we'll have to discharge you. Do you want me to call someone to pick you up?" Martha asks.
"I'm fine," Selene replies.
She takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky with wide, happy eyes. Immediately, she moves down the streets and expertly weaves her way through the masses of people on the comparatively small pavement. Selene clasps her hands behind her back and keeps her eyes to the sky in her awe-struck daze. She knows the place. She knows it well. She's seen everything before without having been there. Her mind says, with a small voice, I'm back, I'm home. Her home is far away, she knows that. How does she not know the place in the sense of never having walked the streets before? Yet, at the same time, how does she know the little details others overlook without having to glance at them? Her mind stops reeling. Her thoughts are becoming jumbled so much that they're making no sense to even her. She looks up at the sky and is touched with a sense of the dull no-colour colour of the sky back home.
If ever she's to be asked, do you miss home? Her instantaneous reply would be that she doesn't care for her former home. Deep inside her is the safe knowledge that she's finally where she belongs. She trusts that, and she's not willing to leave. A wave of emotion suddenly overwhelms her from nowhere and she's instantly submerged. She stumbles momentarily in her stride. Her eyes dart over to the other side of the road and catch someone turning onto another street. She stops. People shove her out their way muttering about stupid teenagers and something about air-heads; but doesn't know. She can't hear them. The only sound that exists to her is the frantic beating, no, pounding, of her heart. An unrequited heart that cries itself to sleep every night. She knows she will from that night and on forever.
Still, if just the sight of that person can send her into a frenzy; she can barely manage to think of other scenarios. Talking to him. Brushing against his hand when walking in a hallway. She shakes her head to rid herself of thoughts like that. Getting herself worked up for no reason is just a waste of her time. Something else catches her eye. It's not a person this time though; it looks like a small fox from some alien planet. Her first instinct is to wrap it up in her arms and protect it, but then she remembers the unknown brown object she carried. She looks around herself frantically, trying to decipher where she dropped it exactly. It's nowhere to be seen.
Frantically, she turns and races down another street. Her eyes dart from one side to the other, searching for where it may be.
-Chapter Edited.