The Girl With the Dandelion Ring

Chapter 3: Wishing For Wings... Or At Least Pants

Chapter 3: Wishing For Wings... Or At Least Pants

Every inch of my five foot four body blazes with pain. I struggle to open an eye. Everything is black. No buildings or cars or blue sky hanging above my head. The darkness encloses me in, trapping me in a prison of nothingness. I hear a voice calling my name. It sounds so faint, barely there. I wonder if I'm even awake. My pain and the sound of my name are the only things tethering me to this world. I cling to them, urging them to stay strong, to stay with me. Even when everything leaves me, I need these two things. They will keep me sane. They will keep me alive. They will keep me human.

The voice suddenly sharpens, cutting through my thoughts and focusing my attention. The voice is saying something. I wonder what it is, who it is. Who am I? Where am I?

"Rose," the voice penetrates me again. It sounds sweet, warm. "Rose," it sings to me, "can you hear me? I'm here for you sweetie. I won't leave your side, pinkie promise." The voice sounds sad, lost. I try and talk to it, whispering its name, but it suddenly stops speaking. I try to open my eyes but I feel myself slipping, crawling back inside the warmth of my pain. It's so warm, like a blanket of fire that covers me. The smoke suffocates me, drawing me into its embrace. I stop struggling and let it envelop me. I sink.

I sink deep inside of myself, so deep that neither the pain, nor the voice can follow me.

~*~

When I wake again the pain is less violent. It still hovers, but I'm able to open both of my eyes. I groan, my voice sounds small and scratchy. I look around weakly; I'm in an apartment I don't recognize. The ceiling has drawings on it, like a kaleidoscope of images blurring together and forming one, giant piece of art. I work up the energy to sit up, gasping as the intense pain returns. It sends me toppling over the edge of the bed I was laying on only to crash on the wood floor. I cry out for help, curling into a ball and holding myself tightly.

A door to my left flies open, crashing into the wall. I whimper as the noise echos in my head. I hear his voice calling out to me. My tear-filled eyes settle upon Ben's.

"Hey, Sunshine. It's alright, I'm back," He settles down next to me, laying his hand on my hair and absently petting me like a cat. "What happened to you back there? I heard your screaming and almost crashed seven times on my way back to you," he hesitates before asking, "Does this happen often?"

I open my mouth, but my throat is too dry to speak. I mouth the word "water" to him. At first he's confused, but then he jumps up and runs out of the room. He returns with a glass of water for me. He gently cradles my head, lifting my mouth to the cup so I may drink. I feel the trickle run down my throat, cooling my thirst, and loosening my muscles. I let my eyes sink closed and enjoy the cold of the water as it cleanses me. I feel the urge to rest again. This time, it is not a suffocating urge, but a gentle river. It flows past, allowing me to sink into it's depths.

His voice is the lullaby that follows me down into my slumber.

~*~

Time and time again I wake, but I can never force myself to stay awake for more then what seems like five to ten minutes. This happens all day until eventually I awaken with no pain. And no voice. I sit up in the bed. My eyes search the room for him, but they find nothing.

Maybe he's in another room?

I swing my legs over the side of the bed when I notice I'm not in my clothes. I'm not naked, but the shirt I wear isn't mine. It's long on me, probably a man's... probably Ben's. At least I still have my underclothes on. So the main question shifts to why I am laying in a stranger's house wearing his clothes in his bed.