Chapter 8: Francis

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Brooke had been sitting in the corner of her room for half an hour, staring at the boy lying on her couch. He wasn't dead, Wilkins had said, and his name was probably Francis, for what was written on his bracelet. He was one of the most beautiful beings she had ever seen. Long black hair to the shoulders and thin features in his face. He looked delicate. Tall, if he were standing. Peaceful. She could barely wait till he woke up, but then she thought he might never do it. He didn't look like he was sleeping. He was probably in some sort of strange comma without the need of medical devices to keep him alive. Brooke wondered if he would think she was some kind of savior when he woke up and saw her there. The thought of it almost tickled her.

Then, the girl lying on her bed moved.

"Oh, crap!" She hissed, startled. She slowly approached to the bed. The girl was still sleeping profoundly. She had been the most terrifying thing Brooke had ever seen in her life. Well, not the girl per sé, but the way she had first seen her. Now, resting with her eyes closed on her bed she looked more... ordinary. Kind of. Her skin was dryer than any other she had touched and its color was kind of brown... or golden. Like someone who's taken an excessive sunbath. The hair was purely composed of dreadlocks, but filthy and non-hygienic to the view. Brooke thought she'd do the golden girl a favor if she could cut it before her waking up.

The two young people she had inside her room had arrived together and yet, Brooke had this feeling that they had come from two very different places.

Since mum was a nurse, she could manage to treat some kinds of wounds and normal stages of fever. But these two had none, so she could do nothing more than just wait until either of them woke up, or until either of her parents arrived.

"So? Have none of them opened their eyes yet?" Hayden, her cousin, noisily entered the room holding an orange juice bottle in one hand. Brooke shook her head. "Damn. What the hell is wrong with them!?"

"I don't know, but if you keep yelling like this, they probably will wake up."

"Like WHAT? LIKE THIS, YOU MEAN?!"

Hade was older but her small size sometimes even tricked Brooke into thinking she was dealing with someone younger.

"How can such a small and delicate-looking creature like you make so much noise?"

"I'm curious about the girl." Hade sat beside Brooke, ignoring her. "If you can call it a 'girl'. She looks burnt, doesn't she?"

"And the boy, he looks dead, doesn't he?"

"What if they're not humans?" Hade furrowed her thin, blond brows (something that often people described as adorable). "What if they're aliens?"

"That would be the least of our problems." Brooke said. "I mean, what are we going to do with them?"

They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, alternating their eyes from the girl to the boy and vice versa. They could wake up in any minute, for all they knew.

"Have you called your dad?"

"Yes. He's surely nearby by now."

"And Stawen?"

"Why would I call Stawen?"

"He always seems to have all the answers." Hade shrugged.

"By the way, Hade, his name isn't 'staw-wen', it's 'stay-ven'."

"Why does that even matter?"

"He just gets moody when someone calls him that."

"Well, he just should get an easier name."

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