HBHM (hiatus)

eleven

| it begins

Evarose groaned as an excruciating pain took over her entire body, burning through her like liquid fire. It felt like a thousand burning needles were jabbing and piercing into her skin. She kept her eyes shut, her entire stiff body mentally and physically exhausted.

When she woke up again, she was surrounded by darkness. She rolled onto her side and pain stabbed through her ankle and chest, so she tried to shift slowly, cringing the whole time.

She tried to get up, but her injuries prevented her from doing so. Giving up, she collapsed back on the bed, feeling scratchy sheets against her skin. She had a hard time breathing, for searing pain centered in the middle of her chest. Her muscles suddenly cramped up, tearing from her bones but she only lay there, unable to do anything else.

Make it stop, make it stop . . .

Well, at least she was alive—she could still feel agony underneath her skin. She couldn’t see a single thing in the darkness but could hear her harsh, ragged breaths in the room. Evarose gingerly tried to shift her weight, but the pain was overwhelming.

A tingling, numb feeling started from the tips of her fingers. She wanted to just close her eyes and everything will be okay . . . Just a few more minutes . . .

“Wake up!” a voice cried out to her.

She stared around for the voice in the gloomy mist surrounding her. A soft lilac glow pulsed across the room.

“H-Hello?” she whispered, barely awake. She heard no reply, so she just dismissed it and closed her eyes again. Relaxation surged deep into her soul, comforting each and every muscles with its gentle care and corner.

“Evarose! Get up!”

“Stop it. I’m sleeping,” she murmured, snuggling into the sheets of the bed.

“Wake up! You’re not sleeping; you’re dying! Evarose!”

Reality came back swiftly and coldly after that. But she could no longer stay awake anymore, the urgent, desperate voice fading away. She drifted back to sleep, not caring how her heartbeat slowed and slowed. Eternal rest reached for her, grasping for her fingertips, sucking in her life and soul . . .

Then Evarose was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at the bottomless, blank darkness below.

She felt the discomfort and stinging pain as death gave her a little push, and down she fell. Screaming, her hands flew around to grasp something, but there was nothing to hold on to. Terrifyingly, she fell into that deep space of nothing. She was almost swallowed by black, almost at the verge of surrendering her life, at that chance to die.

It nearly destroyed her, but then.

Then she thought of home, and something in her heart fought back. She began to burn from the inside, but she embraced it, allowed it to roam her and bite her. Her skin regained its color slowly as her wounds began to stitch back together. Each torn muscle connected with one another, her skin bonding once again, and the suffocating, aching feeling faded away.

It was as though a huge burden has been taken away―and now she was free. Even though it burnt her soul as the wound continued to heal, making it firm and strong once again, she felt relieved. Death wouldn’t come back—she was still alive. It had saved her.

She opened her eyes and caught a pair of glowing yellow eyes in the darkness.

“E-Er-Erys?” Evarose haven’t spoken in days, and it sounded like her voice had been stolen. Or dragged through gravel and burnt to a crisp.