Blood

Young Minds (30)

Sorry if this is a late upload - I am on holiday and the computer here has a very slow connection! Check out Lost! by Coldplay (posted on the side); it's an awesome song! This may be rushed; mention it to me if you think it is!

Enjoy!

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The many days of sleep deprivation, hunger, thirst, pain and cold were quick to take effect as I slept. I began to toss and turn, jerking about in my sleep as dreams and nightmares haunted me, Monique’s memories overpowering my own. I dreamt what she thought and most of it I did not understand, the emotions associated with the memories preventing me from picking out the secrets behind the images.

At some point, I broke out into a sweat, becoming feverish, and tossed my covers off the bed unconsciously before beginning to quake from the cold. My breathing quickened also and I found myself unable to pull free of this tormented slumber.

Monique seemed unbothered; she slept all the way through my antics, her consciousness merely a mental pressure against my own.

Coughing fits brought me from my sleep, making me lurch up from the bed and pull the covers back over my shaking body, and, as the morning approached, my throat began to burn, making my chocking all the more painful.

After a particularly long fit of coughing, I awoke; my body stiff and my throat sore.

The room around me was blurred by the tears brought on by all the coughing and I could just make out the light from outside trying to get through the curtains of a small window above my bed.

Climbing out of bed shakily, I stood and went over to the small dresser opposite the bed, wiping the moisture out of my eyes as I did so.

To my relief, I found a little mirror in one of the draws and after giving it a good scrub with my nightgown-sleeve, I was able to see my reflection.

A grimace found its way onto my lips as I took in my ragged appearance. My blonde hair was a big tangle; some strands plastered to my face and neck with sweat and the rest a filthy pile which obviously hadn’t benefitted from the previous night’s wash. My eyes were swollen and puffy, with large black bags clinging on underneath, and my brown orbs looked tried and hopeless, almost despairing.

Dragging my fingers over my cracked and sore red lips, I sighed heavily, the action making my ribs hurt.

I sat back down on the bed, the springs squealing under my weight, and played absently with the hem of the nightgown. It wasn’t the most flattering of garments, reaching past my knees and puffing around my arms, but I was grateful for it.

At this point, the door creaked and a little girl popped her head in, her eyes wide with excitement.

She was a pretty little thing with curly brown hair, similar to Justine’s in texture, curious eyes which took on a strange amber-like colour, almost lime-like, and a plump face. A red frock adorned her thin figure and she was constantly pulling up the over-sized sleeves.

The girl looked rather startled when she found me awake and looked unsure of what to do so I smiled quickly at her, trying to convey reassurance and friendliness.

She stared at me for a second more, her eyes filled with suspicion, before striding in and thrusting her little chubby hand towards me, holding her head high.

“I am Elise,” she said grandly, letting each word roll off her tongue.

Resisting with great difficulty the urge to laugh at her attitude, I took her warm hand and shook it firmly, smiling amusedly.