Grey Eyes

The Family

POV: Joan

My family has always been an issue and have yes, I always been an issue to them. We have  just haven't clicked liked the ones on TV. Then again I can't blame myself, like when I was a kid they seemed almost scared of being close to me. That behaviour got worse as I got older. My dad always said "Hell's worse for those who are tortured with love." Which
sounds poetic, but I find it rude. Life only works if you can live it and since my dad cut out friends, (if he knew I was with them). I became quite independent but luckily I've made enough money to move out. And so right now my situation is the best its ever been.

I live in Quebec, Canada in a small apartment by myself. It's been really nice being able to do what I want. The most common thing for me to do is to go into the local pub, even though I'm too young to drink. I was sitting on my leather coach in front of my tv while I'm painting. I wasn't at work cause recently I've been really sick. I work at the local bank. My eyes were thumping and my skin felt hot, beside that I fine. I got up out of all my blankets and walked down my narrow hall to the kitchen and even though my kitchen was just a few feet away, my symptoms went straight to the point I couldn't see my eyes fogged. My head pounded until it all stopped suddenly, and I still couldn't see. My head slowly formed a image of my aunt till it started to move. I was in my childhood home the walls were red and my aunt was telling me a story,

"The shifter sung a song to the whole town and gave them an eternity of bad luck he was the embodiment of  pain."

I said back in a young voice "Will I have to fight a shifter?"

She said back calmly "Of course not sweetie." Her smile fell into a stern face. My vision fell again the next thing saw was me. I was laying down in a hospital bed where there was large windows and in the corner stood a man wearing a large grey coat, jeans, and a large hood. The hood was covering most of his face yet his face seemed to glow, especially his eyes which were vibrantly grey. The door handle turned, and the mysterious person walked inside of the wall as if he was nothing.

A nurse walked in and asked me a few question, "Do you know what day it is?" 

I answered back only just then realizing I don't "No I don't." 

She said back, "Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" I was glad my eyes had stopped thumping

"You're holding four fingers." she smiles lightly and she began ranting about how I'd been there for two days and how I'll be out by the end of the day, but I was too focused on what the mysterious person was.

Or if he was even real...