Two Eyes, Two minds, Two Fangs

Chapter 2 - Sorrow. Fear. Death.

The black hole of nothingness began to disperse and the echoing in my ears very soon got louder and I found myself able to pick up ends of conversation and unfamiliar, mechanical sounds in the background of that chatter. My head still span and I felt as if I had a buzzing alarm clock ringing inside my brain making it very difficult not to concentrate on the pain that was there. Along with my head, my wrist also hurt and the large grazes on my knees and elbows throbbed uncomfortably behind all of that. The air around me was cold despite the noise of people all around and I could still smell the industrial smell of the large cargo containers where the night had turned... disastrous. I wiggled my fingers and found that my left hand was stiff and sore stretching right down from my elbow that I had landed on. I had no difficulty in recalling everything that had happened although I had no desire to; no desire to at all. The blood and terror was the thing that seemed to linger over me and that's what I heard when I finally began to listen to the voices around me. There was the soft sound of someone crying and worried voices coming from every angle. Very familiar voices overwhelmed the background drawl though and I knew I would have to open my eyes to answer. My mom’s voice sounded again and she was holding my right hand that I had, regrettably, stretched out and unfurled from its previously limp fist after laying still for a small amount of time. I, however, wanted to lay in still peace for longer: despite hearing the concern in the world. I didn't want to see the horrible sights that came with the sounds and I didn't want to see the sight of the coppery blood that I could still smell lingering in my nostrils. I didn't want to focus on any one thing and was quite happy to stay drifting for a little while longer but since I had noticed the urgency in my mom’s voice I was finding it ever more difficult to ignore and had to reply, even if I didn't move.

"Honey? Honey? Can you hear me?" She asked again.

"Mmmm." I groaned and opened my thick, reluctant eyes into tiny little slits.

"Oh, Delilah... are you ok?" she asked, her mouth twisted in a painful frown and her hair ruffled and knotted from where she had evidently been nervously pulling and prodding at it.

"Yes... I... I think so." I replied quietly, my voice coming croakily and shakily from inside my bruised and battered neck. I tried to sit up on my pile of blankets but subsequently had to pull my spinning head back down and wedge it in between my knees to stop my churning stomach from taking it's effect all down my front.

"Just... Give me a minute." I mumbled and pressed my hands over my ears to block out the, now loud and almost over powering noise around me. I winced away quickly though as I put too much pressure on the large cuts on my knees and sent another sharp flurry of pain down my body.

"Have you hurt yourself honey?" my mom asked.

"I think so." I admitted, "The grazes are kind of sore, obviously, but my left hand hurts too." I said and offered her my limp, lame looking fist. She held it gently on her palm but even the lightest amount of pressure felt as if I was having pins forced deep into my skin and bones, and fire was being pulsed around those needles to enhance and intensify the ripples of pain.

"I think it's broken." she sighed and gently let my fingers go when I winced yet again.

"Shit." I mumbled, and ran my good hand through my hair just as my mom was prone to do when she was stressed.

"Delilah! Don't use language like that." she scolded in lame, half-hearted response but didn't make any effort to really tell me off; we both became very much more concerned about what we could see around us: there was a wash of dull colours under the early dawn, floodlit, wasteland and the vibrant tint of red in every corner of my vision. I could also smell the pungent red blood from where it had splattered it's self across the concrete leaving brash, brutal stains all over the area. I didn't realise just how far the violence had spread either; there were people everywhere, some I recognized, some I did not. There were at least five ambulances in my field of view and there were many, many people in bright jackets and with medical aid ready to rush to the assistance if those in suffering. It was then that I really saw the damage that had been done... There were bodies covered in sheets and that were being removed from all sides of the area and people stood by wailing and crying out for their families. I recognized most of the sad and distressed faces but none of these pictures of sorrow particularly stood out to me. It was all monotonous despite the pain of it all. Everything was the same. Everyone was in the same situation. It was just a vast sea of the same feeling: Sorrow. Fear. Death. No one person could have made me feel more or less sympathetic than the other.