Oliver looked on amazed as his witch dipped a little backwards, his hand still had a light grip on her upper arm. To an onlooker it would seem like they were in the midst of a slow dance. Oliver kept on watching as her lips uplifted themselves into...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Coming back to life is the worst feeling ever, especially when it is accompanied by the singing of a gruff voice that isn't really made for singing.
"It's been a long week without you my friend
And I'll tell you all about it when you wake up again
We've come a long way from where we began
Oh, I'll tell you all about it when you wake up again
When you fucking wake up again"
Oliver felt like he was continuously getting hammered in the most sensitive part of his brain by the incessant hushed howling near his right ear. In the background weird beeping music played constantly.
And he could swear he'd heard the lyrics of this song somewhere. He just couldn't pinpoint it.
The task of opening eyes seemed more arduous than swimming through heavy, salty water up to the surface from the ocean bed. But still Oliver tried, he needed to. The musician needed to be stopped this instant before his brain was successfully snapped in two.
Oliver fluttered his eyelids, and after several attempts managed to push them open. The light that struck his pupils so painfully the next moment though made him let out a groan—a very weak, shaky sound that came from the depth of his throat. Also, it didn't help that his throat felt as dry as the sand of Sahara. He snapped close his eyes.
All of the sudden the singing, or whatever it was, stopped dead. There were a couple of gasps before pin drop silence fell.
Oliver used that time to revive bits and pieces of his memories. He didn't know how long it actually took, but at some point and after another try, his sight adjusted to the light of the room.
A face, pale, deep in concentration and with messy locks of hair surrounding it, was what he saw the first thing.
Forgetting this face wasn't something that Oliver was or would ever be capable of.
In the peripheral to his left, sunrays burst through and illuminated her faintly red rimmed eyes—slightly damp, dark and swollen underneath.
She looked like the symbol of suffering. His Elli.
"E... Ellie—" His voice cracked and he choked on his dry tongue.
Elli's eyes widened in shock and then joy sparkled in them.
"It's good to see you awake," stood beside Elli, someone said. Oliver looked up to see it was Misha—looking exhausted but relieved.
As Oliver futilely tried to speak again, a plastic cup half filled with water was shoved before his face.
