You don't even want me

12.

[Camille]

I woke up, but my eyes stayed closed. I felt a sharp pain around my right ribs, right upper arm and right eye, and I heard voices that sounded a bit weird, like they were coming from a TV.

I opened my eyes very slowly as it felt like they'd been closed for quite a long time; the first time they opened, they fell closed again because my eyelids felt too heavy but I tried again, not giving up so soon.

This time, they opened for a longer time and the third time, they stayed open.

I looked around to see I was in a room that wasn't my own, I was wearing clothes that weren't my own and I wasn't lying in my own bed. I tried to frown but my eyebrows didn't move as smooth as I wanted to, which just confused me more.

I suddenly noticed my Mum and Chloe in a chair in the corner of the room, both looking at the TV on the wall in front of my bed. Chloe turned her head towards me and stared at my body with a sad look on her face, until her eyes met mine. She widened hers and started nudging Mum's arm enthusiastically.

But at the same time it was like she'd just seen a ghost and she had to tell everyone.

My eyes fluttered open, and my heart skipped a beat in fear that my breathing would be all messed up again, but I was only breathing a little faster than normal and I wasn't sweating like I usually was after a nightmare. I sighed when I looked at my alarm clock that said 1:43 AM and I laid myself back down in my bed, cursing those damn nightmares.

~~~

My eyes traced the black lines carefully, taking in the graceful shapes coloured with purple shades slowly. I'd painted the crocus in those colours because they were most common like that.

My eyes shifted to another flower: a yellow daffodil with a dark yellow core. I liked yellow, but the shade of the gold poppy, hanging a bit more to the left, was more beautiful to my opinion. It was a shame that that was one of the first ones I'd ever done and the transitions weren't smooth at all since I wasn't that good with paint yet.

But the one on my wall I was the moust proud of, was the light pink lily, hanging above all the rest of the flowers. My eyes scanned its big, light pink leaves and followed the beautiful curves they made, and the green lines leaving from the core had felt weird to paint, but they looked like they were right where they belonged.

The little bud next to the large flower was still closed, but the curved stem fitted the drawing perfectly; that one was definitely my favourite.

The voices coming from downstairs were slowly getting to me, but I didn't really care about it. It was a Saturday morning and I was sitting on the ground in my room, in front of the wall with the flowers, still in my pyjamas.

I sighed, taking in the sight of them all together against my wall and wished I could draw more; every time I'd tried to make a new one, my hand would start shaking and even before the pencil would touch the paper, it'd become too much and overwhelming and my fingers would automatically drop the wooden pencil.

I hadn't drawn nor painted any flowers for 2 years, and I really wanted to do it again, hating the fact that my mind couldn't handle that and made my body freeze.