I n d o м ι т a в l e

(24)

Dedicated to herlilsecret just because :3

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"Everyone has two memories. The one you can tell and the one that is stuck to the underside of that, the dark, tarry smear of what happened."

― Amy Bloom

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{Chapter: 24}

Unedited ✖

{ A S P E N M O N T G O M E R Y }

I shoot up with a gasp, and almost immediately after begin coughing up a lung. I start hacking like a woman on drugs who inhaled too much cigarette smoke, my back hunched as I roll over, my fingers reaching for my aching throat as I breath heavily.

My eyes tear up as I continue to cough until my throat feels like sandpaper. I grimace, spitting out the damp pieces of hair from my mouth, swiping the back of my hand across my chin and ridding of access saliva.

My stomach clenches as I lay myself back on the bed.

Wait...bed?

I look around the room, everything hazy for several or more seconds before I recognize the familiar antler trimmings and brown wall paint. I'm at Nicholai's house, in my room, no evil dragon-creature in sight.

My eyes jump to the spot where the black shape was standing before everything went black, no evidence left behind to indicate whether or not it actually happened or was merely a figment of my imagination.

Was it just a dream?

I slip my legs out from underneath the sienna patterned covers, placing my feet hesitantly against the ground. Glancing down at my attire I see the same faded jeans and red sweater I wore whenever I fell asleep--or passed out, my inner consciousness drawls.

I shake my head, pulling out the elastic band that was only holding a quarter of my hair together sense all the rest fell out before raking a hand through the lengthening locks. The mesh of light blonde and sepia brown colors swirl together in different shades in mess of large, tangled curls.

My hair has always been more flat than almost everyone I know, and in the mornings, it all clumps together in thick knots, just as it looks right now; an utter mess. It's a dirty curse.

A shiver skates down my spine as a chilling feeling runs down over the bare skin of my midsection that my ridden up top has exposed during my unconsciousness. I pull the material down as far as it will go, already feeling cold as I wound my arms around my waist.

I take tentative steps towards the in suit bathroom, looking behind me at the window where my nightmare and possible reality took place, seeing the sun barely beginning to peek over the tree tops, an array of pink and blue and orange colors meshing together like a beautiful oil panting. No black monster silhouette. Not even any smudges against the glass. It's as if it never even happened.

But it did.

I trek to the bathroom mirror, and somewhat doubtfully, turn my head to look at my cheek where the monster had runs it long talon down the side of my face. The remembrance of white-hot heat flaring in the monsters fingers wake is fresh in my mind, and my nerves spike as I hesitantly take a peek.

Nothing.

As if the burning never even took place, no scalding or mark tracing any of my soft flesh, only making my frustration grow.