cuckoo song

Her head hurt. There was a sound grating against her mind, a music less rasp like the rustling of paper. Somebody had taken a laugh crumpled it into a great, crackly ball and stuffed her skull with it. Seven days, it laughed. Seven days.
"Stop it" she croaked. And it did. The sound faded away, until even the words she thought she had heard vanished from her mind like breath glad from glass.
"Triss" there was another voice that sounded much louder and closer than her own, a women's voice. 'Oh truss love love it all right I'm here" something's were happening. Two warm hand had closed around hers, as if they were a nest for it.
Don't let them laugh at me she wispered, she swallod and found her throat dry and crackly as bracen.
Nobody is laughing at you darling the women said her voice so hushed and gentle it was almost a sigh.
They were concerned mutterings a little further away. Two male voices
Theressa I'm therresa. It was true she knew but it just felt like a word. She didn't seem to know what it ment. I'm triss. That seemed a bit more natural, like a book falling open on a much viewed page. She managed to open her eyes a little wincingat the brightness. She was in bed, propped up on a mound of pillows.
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