She was working up quite a sweat. Tossing and turning, unable to settle for even a moment. When she lay still, her back ached like nobody's business. When she shut her eyes, there were bright flashes of light, recurrent living nightmares of the accident.
Huffing, she eventually gave up on sleep for the moment and sat up in bed. Slowly and painfully, she headed to the bathroom, and went to the toilet, clearing up the blood which had pooled in her sanitary towel and changing it; she'd been in too much pain to change it earlier, and figured that if it leaked, it leaked.
After about five minutes of sitting, it became too painful to be still anymore, and Amanda made slow movements to stand up. She looked straight up into the blacked-out mirror, and was glad that she couldn't see her brutal cuts which would scar gruesomely. She greedily gulped down two cups of cold water, went to the toilet again, washed her hands and took her time getting back to bed.
Lying wide awake, Amanda had nothing to do but brood, so instead she took out her book. Every five minutes or so, she had to change her position. The accident hadn't been recent, but she knew that the effects would be very, very long term. It was extremely possible and highly probable she would die with the injuries still feeling as fresh as the day they were caused. Obviously Amanda didn't want to be in pain, but it wasn't like she could help it. The night time was the worst of all, when she could hardly stay still for more than a few moments. Thank goodness for the sleeping pills.
At last, she was beginning to feel their drowsy effect. She rubbed a bit of lavender oil on her hands and around her arms – it calmed her down, even if it didn't make her sleepy. Whilst she could till concentrate, she finished the chapter of her book and then put it by the bed stand, where her cup of water and tablets lay.
"Goodnight," she whispered to no one in general – there wasn't anyone left in her household to hear her say it. Sighing, Amanda lay down and turned on her left side, lying with her eyes to the wall. She counted three blessings before she fell asleep: that her husband had already left her before the accident, that her dog was safe at her friend's house, and that her sleeping pills meant she slept dreamlessly.
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To Warm Frozen Fingers // A Short Story Collection
Short StoryI like to write. As you may be able to tell. I haven't been very good at writing lately. As you may also have been able to tell. That's why I've decided to write a short story collection. The stories won't interlink, some may vary wildly and you mig...
