Zoe's only wish is to be able to run barefoot through grass, but she knows it'll never happen. Ever since she was born, she's been unable to touch anything living without it instantly dying. It's a curse she would do anything to get rid of, but that...
I fell asleep at some point while reading and woke up three hours later with a killer headache. I put the books back, went and swallowed two aspirins before heading out.
It was still morning, and the stores were just starting to open. I went to one and bought a decent phone before going back to Zoe's hotel. She had to be back by now.
After knocking and waiting outside her door for fifteen minutes, I went back to my car. I didn't need the hotel staff to find me again and chase me out, maybe even call the police. I would just sit in my car and wait for her to come.
It wasn't a peaceful wait. The headache got worse as well as my worry. Where had she gone? Had she really been away all night? Was she okay?
Questions and scenarios played in my mind.
She finally came back, drenched in blood. I immediately rushed out to her.
"Are you alright?" I asked and started looking for wounds.
She looked back with a sad smile on her face.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's time for you to know who I really am."
She took my hand, and the scene shifted. We weren't outside the hotel anymore, but on a field that stretched everywhere and that was empty except for the never-ending pile of corpses.
"What is this?" I asked her, my mouth awfully dry.
"This is what my skin does," she said. "This is what my disease really is. It doesn't make people sick. It kills them."
My head spun and ached. I wanted to vomit but couldn't. Fog shifted all around us, made me see new corpses every second. I wanted to close my eyes and forget about this, but instead, they looked as the fog shifted again and I saw a familiar face.
As if she knew what I was thinking and looking at she said, "It was me or him. I am the witch your father was looking for."
I shook my head. "No! You can't be. You would never do something like this!"
"But I would. This is who I am. Do you still love me?"
I was still shaking my head and started backing away from her. A tear formed in her eye. One lonely tear that slowly fell.
"That's what I thought," she whispered before walking up to me and pressing her lips against mine.
My head snapped up. My heart beat like never before, hard and fast against my ribcage, and the headache made everything feel even more confusing. It took a long time for me to realize that I was still in the car, that I was still waiting for Zoe. That it had only been a nightmare.
I got out of the car to get some air to help me calm down. When my heart had finally stopped racing, I leaned my head against my hand and laughed at myself.
It was ridiculous. That nightmare was absurd. I knew Zoe well enough by now and yes, I knew there were things she avoided talking about. But I knew her. She wasn't a killer, there wasn't an evil bone in her body.
I looked up, and finally I saw her again.
She exited the hotel and even from the distance, I could see that she must have had an awful night just like me. Her eyes were red and puffy and had dark circles under them. Her usually tightly fixed braid looked like it was about to fall apart.
I ran to her, and I had time to see a fleeting expression of surprise before I hugged her to me.
"I was so worried," I whispered to her.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking.
I expected her to pull away and resist my hug. That she would start talking about the dangers of close contact. But to my surprise, I felt her arms go around me as she leaned into me and let out a sigh.
"I know I shouldn't have left like that," she continued. "I should have explained more before disappearing. But I just... I got so scared. It was so close. We almost touched and... I don't know what I would do if I lost you. And if I would be the reason you died..."
Her words broke and were replaced by sobs. I held her tight, not saying anything, just held her, until the flow seemed to have subsided.
"Let's go back to your room, okay?" I asked, and she nodded.
When we got back to her room, we sat on an armchair each and I took a closer look at her. She looked tired, pale and haggard, as if the night had aged her by ten years. But she didn't seem hurt, not physically hurt.
"Where did you go?" I asked and took her hand in mine, tried to send support through it.
"Yesterday morning I got a new idea for research on my disease. I was going to check it out today, but... I got too scared last night and went immediately. There's a special library not far from here."
She leaned back and closed her eyes. From the look of her, I guessed what the answer to the next question would be.
"Did you find any answers?"
"I don't know," she said and then became silent. I could feel that there was more that would come, so I waited.
"It might be... genetic, somehow," she finally continued. "From my mother. But that almost makes it even more difficult. My father doesn't like talking about her at all. I don't even know her name."
She looked up again, and a new stream of tears stained her face.
"If it's to help you get better, I'm sure he'll be willing to talk."
"Maybe." She gave me a crocked smile. "But I don't know if I can bring myself to ask."
I sighed. There was a lot more I wanted to tell her in that moment. Mainly I wanted to tell her that, of course, she had to ask. But I didn't. Looking at how her whole spirit seemed to have been crushed, I couldn't.
"Have you slept at all?" I asked instead.
"No," she admitted. "I tried for a bit, but I couldn't fall asleep."
"You should sleep. We should both sleep. Being well rested usually makes everything better."
She looked at the only bed in the room and opened her mouth, but I beat her to it.
"If we put the armchairs together, it'll work as a bed for me."
Once again, she opened her mouth, to protest, I was sure. But there was no way I was going to leave her side at that moment.
"Don't. Just don't argue right now," I said. My voice almost sounded broken. "Let's just get some more sleep. Alright?"
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