confusifying | wicked | book 3/3

Nessa

I'm not dead.
For some cruel, cruel reason; I'm not dead.
There's the sensation of touch somewhere on me but I can't work out where it's coming from.
Suddenly a hand brushes past my cheek, I gasp and look around frantically, when my hands are grasped tightly.
"I didn't mean to scare you, pet." Marigolds comforting voice whispers, I wish the wasnt here to see this.
"Marigold," I pick up on my sisters voice, "marigold she looks too pale"
"She's lost a lot of blood" marigold replies.
"Blood." I croak, it's my first word since trying to take my own life and my voice startles me by coming out foreign and frail.

"She spoke!" My sister cries excitedly.
I notice my sisters face peer into view.
"Hi ness." She whispers gently.
I don't have the energy to answer her, and I don't really want to if I'm completely honest.
There's an overbearing urge to touch my blood soaked clothes.
I succumb to it and shakily lift my hand towards the abdomen.
"Ma'am?" Marigold questions.
My hands trace my sticky clothes and touch the large piece of gauze wrapped around where I plunged the knife.
"Nessa." My sister snaps, more panicked than angry.
I'm still sat up slightly and I take into account the lack of people in the room, wanting to ask where they are but deciding to save my energy.
I acknowledge the blood stained sheets and my absent blanket.
My deep red tights not revealing if there's any blood on them, but my black dress seems to glisten with semi-dried blood.
It's suddenly made apparent to me how cold I am, it's like there's a horrible ghastly wind surrounding me.
Much to my luck, marigold leans forward and touches my arm, a flinch at her warm hands.
"Goodness chick, you're freezing." Marigold exclaims, "want me to fetch you a blanket?"
I don't answer, I don't want a blanket, I want to die.
"Blanket, ness?" My sister reiterates.
"No." I sigh, "no thank you."

Marigold and Elphaba mutter tearfully amongst themselves and before I can register what's happening, a thick blanket is placed upon me.
"I said no." I mutter coldly.
My sister moves closer to me.
"You're far to cold Ness." She replies gently.
I couldn't care less.
"Take it off." I whisper, slowly running out of stamina. "Take it off now."
My sister sits herself down beside the bed, staring at me.
"I'm sorry." She answers pitifully.
Breathing deeply for a while, I close my eyes, longing for time to stop and that I'll fall asleep and not wake up.
Perhaps it's not my sisters gifts that are keeping me alive, perhaps I just put the knife in the wrong spot.
I'm going to have to get up soon, I can't stay in this blood soaked bed, nor in these blood soaked clothes.

"Doctor Tip wants a word with you when you're feeling a little stronger, lovie" marigold mentions.
I can remember Tip rushing in, or at least I remember the footsteps that I assigned to her.
I remember she bandaged me and I also remember that I asked her to leave the emerald city.
"I told her to leave." I wheeze. "I told Tip to go."
Marigold places a hand on my forehead, noticing how pale I look and unwell I seem.
I feel nauseas, like I could be sick at any moment but the feeling hasn't accumulated in the back of my throat yet.
"Chick she's here to take care of you" marigold whispers, filling me with rage.
"I don't care why she's here!" I cry, using significantly more of my energy than I intended upon using.
My sister jumps at my sudden outburst and I begin to worry that she may start to cry, I'm not sure I could deal with that right now.
"Marigold," my sister mutters, and the old woman tilts her head towards Elphaba, sighing gently.
"Should we fetch Tip?" My sister whispers.

My head starts to spin and I feel violently ill.
"Ma'am?" Marigold questions.
I look at at her anxiously.
"I think I'm going to be sick" I whisper sheepishly, as my throat starts to burn.
Hastily, marigold scurries beside where my sister is sitting and gently tilts my body so that I'm leaning off of the bed slightly, the motion causes my to cry out in distress followed by vomiting painfully.
When I'm laid back down again, I'm thankful for that horrible feeling to be gone.
The room stinks of vomit and blood and Elphaba instantly starts to clean the sick from the floor.
I fight the urge to cry.
"Marigold." Elphaba whispers shakily, "there's blood in this."
I close my eyes tightly, hoping for death once more.
"Clean this up and then go and get doctor tip" marigold mutters to my sister.
I don't hear an audible response so I just assume that she's nodded or she's too distracted by my half dead body next to her.
I really don't need doctor tip, I'm not dead, isn't that enough for them?

Suddenly, I feel a firm hand rest itself on the side of my face, as I resume my wheezy laboured breathing once more.
"Why did you have to go and do that, chick?" Marigold asks shakily.
I can't bring myself to audibly answer, I just wanted the pain and the fatigue and all my newfound responsibilities to go away.
I close my eyes and allow myself to fall into the deep, black scenes of my eyelids as I hope for slumber.
I just need some kind of relief, I just have to fall asleep.
If I can't die, then why should I have to be awake?
I feel terribly bitter about my halted death, I don't want them to try to make me better.
I don't want the blankets and the bandages because I just want to close my eyes and never open them again.
I just wish that death would come and fetch me.