Lost #FuchsiaAwards2018[Rewriting]

Chapter 18

....Those eyes.

I know those eyes. Those indigo circling ones.

But,

I

Don't

Remember

Whose it is.

I sat up carefully as I peered back at the pair of eyes. My mind was blank, there was nothing helping me to remember.

Clank!

My heard abruptly turned towards the sound where I saw a steel tray lying at the floor. A sigh left my lips as I turned back to where I had seen those eyes. My heart thumping loudly.

But, this time, it wasn't there. It's gone.

I felt disappointed as I laid back slowly, carefully so I won't injure my head(even further). I closed my eyes.

Maybe I'm just hallucinating.

Yeah, that's right.

You just need sleep.

Yeah, just sleep. We'll see what happens next.

School.

Oh no.

"Sleep, Ally..." I heard a voice that was soothing to my ears. It instantly made me feel sleepy.

Wait, wasn't it --

My body then became a victim of slumber.

***

"Wake up, Ally. We're home...." A feminine voice whispered.

My eyes fluttered open, sleepiness fading away. I sat up looking around.

It wasn't the hospital. It was my home. I'm back home!

A smile creeped up my face. Finally, back to my sweet home.

I was in my soft and cozy bed. My head had a bandage wrapped around it and another one on my wrist.

Well I didn't notice this last time.

My mom and my dad were seated beside me on the bed. Wait..... my dad is back?

He's back from his trip? Oh, I didn't know.

"Sweetie, what would you like to eat?" My mom smiled, just then I noticed her holding a knife in her hand.

That knife looks familiar.

It didn't look like it was from home but it looked different.

"If someone bullies you again..."

That voice...

"Honey?" My mom interrupted my thoughts.

My eyes shot up to meet hers. "Um, my favourite. " I replied, she patted my hand gently. My father smiled at me warmly nodding.

But why is she holding a knife?

Maybe she was about to cook, Ally.

Right.

"I'll go make it, okay?" She said and left with my father. I was  alone in my room.

I looked around, my room hadn't change a bit. All the same things were there, the same painting, the same drawers and the same study desk and books.

I smelt something odd, it was coming from me. I stunk badly.

"I need a bath," I threw the blanket aside as I got off bed, disgusted of myself.