Hope isn't a word I really believe in. [ON HOLD]

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

‘I’ll be the in to your sane.’

Numan

　

Gnit ushered Sinny outside into the downpour. She stumbled through the tent and as his grip left her, she felt the sinking of herself in the mud beneath her feet.

The tips of her fingers swept back her hair, pushing the strands behind her ear. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

In the pit of her stomach, something stirred. It dug into the back, worming its way through her whole body. She recognized the feeling in a split second:

Rejection, Sinny thought. The act of refusing or discarding.

It felt stone-cold, like Jack Frost’s touch and heavy like the weight of a thousand mountains.

She’d been rejected so many times; by classmates, teachers, librarians, parents, too many to count. But this one hurt the most. She never thought he would turn her away.

She stared on, through the heavy drops of rain that seemed to slightly censor what laid before her, as a stamp of bold white ticked the sky.

She heard a sharp intake of breath behind her that she recognized to be Pinnferr’s. What a surprise there.

The grey clouds were enormous, darker were the ones above her head. If it were a sunny day, perhaps they would’ve reminded her of fairy floss, that one day she saw a little girl holding, coming from The Royal Phinor Show. Sinny could see the tiny strokes of colour, painted delicately to create the cloud.

She didn’t cry, the reality hadn’t properly hit her yet, but the burning sensation at the back of her throat was present.

Was he really scared of her? He can’t have been - he wanted to kiss her not long ago. But she’d never seen that kind of fear and hatred depicted in his face like that before. Just like his burns, the feeling must have been deep.

It was just so incredibly messed up. Her mind was scrambled. How could one zap of lightning change a whole person?

That image of him was permanently lodged in her mind. The wide projector screen blocked most of her thoughts, the projector hiccuping but continuing to roll.

Heart-break went hand-in-hand with rejection.

 What have I done? She thought sadly. Why did he run?

She turned on her heel, about to enter once more, but not just the pain in her foot stopped her.

Another look, another glance, another scream, would tear her heart apart. She could not stand to see him like that - afraid of the one he loved.

Her hand touched the flap of the tent and she caressed it softly. The sense of longing, to hug him, to see him, was… almost unbearable… Her eyes lulled at the tent, wishfully. If only she could go in.

Her grasp slid and gulping down the tears, she limped into her tent, a lonely soul.

---------------------------------------------------

“I’m so, so sorry, Sinny.” Alexia said, wrapping the bandage around Sinny’s swollen ankle, while her patient laid on her bunk. It had a purple tinge and looked disgusting. To any person other than her, they would have possibly puked at the sight.

The thin white material went over and under her foot, over and under until the roll of it had disappeared. Sinny was intrigued as why it was covered in what looked like thousands of little balls of lint. It was a small distraction from Pinnferr…