Star
Inspiration. A glimpse of a transcendent way of life. Good health.
It must have been an hour before the door bell forced me away from Dylan. He stood and kissed my forehead, and before I knew it was gone. Instantly my heart grew cold, and who ever had taken my warmth would feel my distaste.
I grudgingly went to the front door as several knocks abused my ears. I grabbed the door knob, and flung it open, and away from this intruders reach. Her blue eyes went wide, her hand still in the air as if to knock. Her mouth hung open slightly, though she quickly shut it. A wind blew cool air across her face, bringing black and magenta hairs with it.
I almost slammed the door.
Instead I found myself making a fist with one hand, the other's nails digging into the wood of the door. My teeth were clenched, and my jaw and temples ached. As I stood I never let my submissive habits emerge, I stared at her long and hard. I blinked back angry tears, and I was about to shut the door in her face when her voice cemented me.
"You... You haven’t even cleaned the wound out yet?!" She merely whispered it, but my head throbbed even more as I gingerly touched the still open gash on my forehead. The blood had now clotted, and it felt grotesque and craggily. My anger dissipated rapidly and the nausea that ensued almost over took me. My body went limp, and I felt I would pass out.
I tried to shut the door.
Before I could even start to shut it the girl had her hand holding it open. She moved closer, then grabbed me hand and started up the stairs with me in tow. Reflexively I shut the door behind me before it was out of reach, and when we got up the stairs and into the kitchen she had me sit at the table.
She scurried to the sink, looking around frantically, until she found the paper towels on the counter. She ripped a hand full off the roll, and put them under the faucet. When she came back to me she pressed the damp cold mass of paper towels to my forehead. The pain streaked threw me to my core and I yelped like a whipped dog. She pulled away sharply, then looked at me as I covered my head and tried to curl into a ball on the chair.
I didn't want to be hurt anymore.
She looked down at me for a moment, I could feel her stare, but I refused to look up, refused to let her see me-
"Are you crying?" She asked in her annoying voice. I shook my head, but the wound only rubbed against my jeans causing another wave of sheer agony. I heard myself whimper, but crying? No.
In pain? Yes.
I started to feel dizzy and light headed, and as my eyes started to close I heard her kneel in front of me, and I felt her hand touch my head lightly, trying to again clean my wound. I felt my head lift, and her holding it up. This time the paper towels felt less like sand paper to me, but still it hurt, and my eye twitched at the pain.
But this time she held my head steady, though she pulled back for a moment, then again she started to wipe off the clotted blood. The pain started to fade, and that was probably due to the fact that my eyes were closing, and the world was fading. I tried to blink away the drowsiness, but couldn't . Before I lost all feeling I saw her working intently on my gash, and as my eyes finally closed I felt a tear slide down my cheek, and I heard her voice.
"You're not alone anymore."
