A Story: Part 8

A Story: Part 7

Warmth…I feel warmth…I must be back on that beach. If I were to open my eyes, something would go wrong or David will reappear. So, instead I will lay here and soak up the sun in the contained subconscious of my brain.

“Does this feel better?” a voice enters my concentration.

“Mhmm…” is all I muster soaking in the warmth as much as possible. My body feels as if it is soaking up the heat and hiding it under my skin. My insides are bubbling with a frantic surge of energy. I feel alive and refreshed.

“Can I move down to your neck?” again the sweet voices say, as a damp cloth moves to my neck. It burns.

“Yes…” wait, what? Someone is on the beach with me. If I open my eyes, the person will probably try to kill me, but if I don’t I might die not knowing who did finally finished me.

“What’s wrong? Does this not feel good? You have a strange face, like you are in pain.” The voice says.

But there is a hint of care in their voice. But ears are deceiving and can lie to you. Only eyes tell the truth…My body shakes with anticipation and fright.

“Calm down!”

My insides are on fire, but my limbs do not move. I feel like a contained chaos. Like if something were to puncture my stomach I would implode within myself and disappear.

“Calm Down! You need to calm yourself…”

My blood is boiling and twisting in my veins. My heart beat surpasses it limit. My wrist is aflame and the small flower feels like it is ripping itself off of my flesh. I grasp the material beneath me, wanting pour all the heat I have been collecting into its particles.

“I need help in here!” the voice changes to a frantic and worried tone.

I hear footsteps chasing towards me. But they sound far from me. I need to escape. I need to be cooled. I need…water…The ocean. It must be close, considering this is the beach that wants to keep me. I need to move off the blanket and across the sand. “Move body, move!” I command my insides to go…but my will of mind is not sufficient.

“Stay down…HURRY!”

Move…Move…move…my arms feel lighter, and wrist is burning. My flesh feels like it is melting off my bones. The flower is now a steady pulse. It is calling to me. It controls me… My arms move. My right arm searches for my left wrist. I moves too quickly and I jab my side. Pain. Too much pain. The flower pulse quickens…

Voices surround me. Arms and hands brush against my body. A pair of cold strong hands clasp my right arm holding me back.

Eyes still closed… but, “No!” I scream into the void of my brain. But I can also hear myself. My body must now be responding. I pull against his strength. Trying to reach my other arm that seems paralyzed by the heat.

“Hold her down. Don’t let her move!” a new voice speaks right over my head. I can feel their breath against my cheek.

My head is clouding and I cannot distinct the gender of this voice; but it is calm even in this chaos. “But I need…it burns…” I speak to whomever will listen. I can’t stand the darkness anymore. I need to see what is happening to me. Even if I die from imploding…I need to see the truth.

“Hold her steady. I want to try something.” The voice of the strong hands says as their coldness leaves my arm. And this presence leaves my side, but I can feel it lingering.

Open eyes…in Three…Two…I am free; my arm is free. I can reach. Frantically searching for my left towards the pulse. It quickens as my mind and body desires it. Searching. I touch my shirt that is plastered from sweat against my stomach, my side which feels like a waterfall…my arm feels heavier, like cement. I feel my stiff shoulder…my dry elbow…a… cold hand…Those hands.

“Stop Jane. Stop.” The voice said.

The pulsing subsided, but I needed to know. “I need…”

“Stop.”

Why do I listen? Why do I listen…eyes flutter open? I am in a room, not on a beach…It is dark and damp.  There is no light except for the hands clasping my limbs holding me down. Their hands are glowing…no…I am glowing…what?

“Jane?”

Searching for the face connected with this voice. I need to know…The cold hand stays on my wrist, I travel my fingers up the arm and up to a face. The glow from my hand shines into a face of blue…blue…There is no face, just a blue mist. “Who are you,” as I jerk my hand away and cower in the opposite direction of this form.

“Jane…”

“No who are you!?!”

“Jane…I’m…”

“No. How do we know they are not following her.” A new husky voice, belonging to an older presence enters the mix. “She might be one of them and not know. They might be using her.”

“But…” the voice of blue says…

“Wait until tomorrow.” And that was the end of it.

The cold hand stays on my body. The flower has slowed and is soothed. I feel my body subside and collapse back onto the blanket beneath me. “Who…what…” I don’t know what to think. I can’t believe what I hear. And now I don’t believe what I see. All the other hands have left my limbs, but I cannot move. The cold hand still hugs my wrist, but gentler.

“Jane. Sleep now. I tell you everything tomorrow. I promise.” A hint of sadness flows through this voice, and the hand softens and is lightly hovering my skin; but I can still feel the hand on me. The hand seems to be pouring its cold into me, subsiding my heat. My mind is blurring and everything is spinning. Only his essence is lingering; the soft blue haze stirring beside me. “Who are you?”

“Sleep Jane. Sleep.” These words spoken had a deeper, sweeter tone.

 
“But who…are…you…?” my head leaving this reality. My eyes shutting out even the blue haze’s existence. “Please…”  as my eyes were closing.

“I’m…”

I slept.

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