Grave

1.3

Lorcrar woke with the feeling of cold sweat staining his back. The other beds and chairs surrounding him were empty. As his eyes focused he realised that he was in the infirmary, again. Then he was hit by a sudden panic and looked about the room in a frantic search. He found his bag on the ground beside his bed, apparently intact.

"Sebastian, you are awake." A nurse bustled in from the far end of the room. She drew the blinds, not passing him a glance all the while. Lorcrar's eyes squinted in retaliation.

"What happened?" he stammered, knowing exactly what happened, testing her.

"You don't remember?" Lorcrar shook his head obliviously.

"You were found passed out in the science storeroom. Exactly what were doing in there?"

The nurse walked to a small cupboard over a sink and pulled out a plastic cup. She filled it with water, and handed it to Lorcrar. He held it without drinking.

"Oh." Lorcrar thought. "It was Frank," he said. "He threw me in the storeroom as a joke. I must've hit my head or something."

The nurse sighed.

"Well, he must have knocked you out pretty hard. There's a only a few minutes of school left. You can go home now, if you're feeling better."

Lorcrar pushed himself off the bed.

"What have you done to the sheets?"

He turned to where the woman was pointing. The white sheets that were spread beneath him were stained with his sweat - a dull shade of pink.

"Looks like blood," Lorcrar said calmly. He stepped around the nurse.

She stood staring at the infirmary bed in disbelief as Lorcrar shuffled out of the room. His world was still tinted, and he rubbed at his leaking eyes. It smeared pink and sticky on his hands.

A rush of students appeared from behind their classroom doors like water rushing from a dam's open gates. Lorcrar was trapped in the current of people hurrying to their freedom, and he struggled to stay on his feet as he made his way over to a corner. When he reached it he watched the crowds swarm about the corridor, his blood-tinged eyes shining in subdued fury at the faces of the people who were both frightened and amused by him.

There was a girl standing on the other side of the corridor, in the opposite corner. She looked little younger than him, and he thought he might vaguely recollect her name. Laura, or something. There she stood, very still. The kind of stillness that suggested fear as if she were being approached by a walking corpse. Her dark eyes already seemed to show a profound disliking for him, and they had never even talked.

You look upon me as if I am a ghost. Idiot. Why will nobody leave me alone today?

He shot a look of contempt back at the girl before he started on his way, joining the current.