New Rain

V.

A/N

Hey everyone,  :)

I hope you enjoy this chapter of New Rain. As always, it starts off slow but gets better towards the end (this is turning into a reoccuring theme, isn't it?). I fear the next chapter may be a bit slow as well, but I can assure you there will be many exciting chapters to come after that, so stay with me :)

I hope my writing hasn't been lacking recently, I try to keep it as good as possible, but you never know, writing can have it's good days and it's bad days. I'm really hoping that the day I wrote this was a good day :)

Anyway, I'll end this thing now by saying: please remember to vote and comment :)

-Astrid xx

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//FIVE//

The blackness fades away as I open my eyes – I’m back in my room, lying on top of my bed. Instinctively, my hand reaches for my thigh, feeling for pain, but there’s nothing. I sit up and look down at my leg which is wrapped in a white blood-stained bandage. With nimble fingers, I unwrap the bandage and then gape at what lies beneath.

Where there should be blood, there is clean skin, and where there should be a wound, there’s a thin pink scar. For a while I marvel at my leg, running a finger over the scar, and soon after, I stand up slowly, expecting a slight pinch of pain, but when I’m on my feet I feel normal, as if nothing even happened.  

I smile.

For the rest of the day, I sit on the balcony, sometimes staring at the view and other times at the metal railing that obscures at least fifty per cent of the city from my sight. Strangely, instead of obsessing over the fact that I'm an Immune – for real this time – I think of all my death walks before the acid storms and how ironic it all is. The time when I made it under the porch just before it started raining dominates over all the other memories and I find myself laughing hysterically, like a deranged person. I know it isn't really funny, but the knowledge that even if I had gotten caught out in the rain, I still wouldn't have been burned to death, fills me with a strange bubbling feeling and the only way I know how to let it out is by laughing.

I had thought before that when I truly discovered I was an Immune, I would've been horrified and devastated, but now I feel sought of glad, and even slightly relieved, as if life without the immunity would be too hard and too full of fear.

I imagine a different world, a world in which I hadn't been pulled out of school and taken to the Government building. Would I ever have discovered that I was an Immune on my own? Or would I have spent my whole life living in fear of the acid rain and retreating away inside when a storm arrived?

Eventually my mind wanders onto the topic of my imminent death and escape plans start to form in my head. If the reason why they didn't kill me straight away was because they wanted to question me, then that means they could come for me at any second.

As I settle into bed that night, I cling to the hope that they still have more questions to ask me and more things to sort out before they can have me de-immunised. And just before I fall into the dark pit of sleep, the rough outlines of an escape plan begin to form in my mind.

>><< 

The days soon start to blur in my mind, each one flowing into the next. There are no beginnings and no endings, just long and endless stretches of time between meals. After the questioning, they reduce the amount of pancakes they give me each to morning to three and I quickly learn to ration them out, having one in the morning, one at midday and one at night. The food is just enough to keep my stomach from grumbling, and while at first I enjoy the pancakes, their taste quickly becomes bland and I start to crave things like meat, fruit and savoury foods.