Breathless

Chapter 18: Maybe

I woke up with a damp towel over my forehead. Someone had bothered to carry me into my room after I blacked out, but I couldn't remember who. All I could remember were two arms wrapped tightly around me. There were six shadows looming over my bed. I shook my head weakly. That was wrong. There couldn't be six.

"We need to call an ambulance," one of them said worry in his voice.

"And tell them what?" another quickly retorted. "She touched a blank sheet of paper and fainted?"

I started to furrow my brow. What blank sheet of paper? The only thing I had touched was...

That was when I remembered everything. The paper, the poem, Anna. Anna. Her words seemed to lash out at me even though it had been forever since they had come out of her mouth. Everything flooded back to me and I wanted to go back to sleep. Things were so much easier that way.

"She's been out for three minutes!"

Three minutes? They had felt like a lifetime.

"Give her one more."

The voices didn't stop, but I did stop being able to tell them apart. People were all talking at once, and everything just became static. It was like when you turn on the radio, but your signal isn't quite right, so you can still hear everything, but it sounds a little off. After what felt like a short lifetime, I decided that I wanted to slip away again. Right as I was on the brink of consciousness, a single voice pierced through it all. I couldn't tell whose it was.

"Wake up, Terra."

My breath caught in my throat. Waking up was too hard. This was eay.

"Open your eyes."

I felt my long lashes flutter for a nanosecond, but that was all. Some part of me itched to obey the voice, even if that part was really small. Then, there were skinny hands on me. It felt like someone had shoved air into my lungs. I sucked in a breath and didn't let it out for a long time.

"This is what you're meant for."

No. Wait. That phrase always led to bad things. I knew that, even with my foggy brain. Except, it was too late. I felt myself wake up, and I looked around my room at the six figures. One of them was walking out the door just as my eyes were adjusting to the bright light streaming in from my window.

"Ohmygod she's waking up!" a pair of blue eyes screeched. 

"We still have to take her to the ER," said a tank-top.

I tried to use my arms, which could barely feel anything, to sit up. The wet rag on my forhead fell onto my comforter, which was neat underneath my clammy skin.

"Terra, is your head okay?"

As soon as the word head was uttered, a stab of pain hit me. Carson hadn't caught me that time. Good job, Terra. I felt pairs of hands walk me out of my room. Some of them were painted, and two felt rough and scaly. That was probably Emily. Another two were hairy, and three pairs had slender fingers.

Yep, something was probably wrong with me.

The next thing I saw where the bright hospital florescents, which hurt my eyes way more that the bit of daylight that I allowed to come into my room.