Chapter 31: What A Wicked Game To Play

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Sometimes life seems like a dream. One minute, you're walking through life with a smile on your face, the next moment, you're standing alone somewhere, the feelings of loneliness consuming you. The blackness consumed everything in a split moment, gripping my flesh and pulling me closer to its chest. The blackness took me in and tried to keep me forever.

Shadows danced along the walls in the grey room where I stood, looking out from the large wooden door and across the frost kissed ground of the forest clearing. The moonlight desperately attempted to break through the cover of the trees, in order to illuminate the solid ground under my feet. The chill in the air began to nip at my flesh, as I walked out into the night, the fog encased my body and the sweeping tendrils of mist swept across the bare flesh of my arms. The night smelled of that first hint of rain against the dry ground; the petrichor floating into my nostrils caused my heart to race.

I looked across the clearing and then back to the room where I once stood, but it was no longer there. All that was left were the massive pine trees mixed with the smaller Balsam Fir trees that lined the forest surrounding me, like protectors ready to stand guard. Their scent mixed with the night air, reminded me of the scents of my house at Christmas.

A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, his back towards me, the mist swirling around him. I was hesitant to approach him, but I felt my feet stepping on the dry needles beneath me. The feel of their prickles against the bare soles of my feet caused me to cringe in slight pain. Faint hints of music notes hung in the air, clutched against the soft howls of the winds around. On my eardrums I could hear the faint hints of a song, calling to me. My hand stretched in front of me, to clasp him on the shoulder. I had to see his face. 

I needed to feel him one more time, but when he turned around, his face was void of emotions and I instantly felt pulled away, my body propelled in the opposite direction, forever away from the things that comforted me. A hundred vicious hands gripping my skin, yanking me away from him...

No!

My eyes fluttered open, the feeling in my head was like a million jackhammers beating on to the solid concrete below it. My body ached and I couldn't seem to focus my vision. I didn't feel like me, I felt broken and my heart ached in betrayal and sadness.

"Picks? Baby, can you hear me?" Seth's voice echoed through the haze. "Hey! She's waking up!"

I tried to focus, but all I saw were the faint hint of pale blue walls around me, my brain stuck in a thick fog. The florescent lights up above stung against my tired eyes as I looked around. The hints of antiseptic clung to the air around me, giving the room a sterile freshness as the air invaded my lungs with each breath. 

I tried to pull my hand to my face to rub the persistent ache, but my hand felt heavy. When I raised it, I dropped it suddenly, hearing the loud thud of something hard against metal. I pulled my hand up towards my face again and willed my vision to focus on it. My hand was encased in a hard shell and my brain searched for answers to what was going on.

Sensing my confused state, I heard Seth's voice again, "It's alright babe. You broke your hand. It's in a cast." 

My eyes focused on the hard white material, which had a ton of graffiti like designs across it in different colored Sharpie pen. I must have been out of it a while, if Seth was here and he had time to decorate a hand cast. My other hand, which had a stinging pain in it, from the needle in it, traced the patterns of red and green roses, intermingled with music notes and a large blue skull with piercing pink jewels for eyes.

Wait... Seth was here? Where was here?

"Seth? What happened?" I asked in confusion, feeling the tears welling up as my memory shifted back to that moment on the road. I could still smell the snow coated asphalt and the scent of the pine trees nearby. I could still hear the sound of tires on the roadway and the sound their screeching made.

Before The Ravens Sing (✔️, EDITING)Dove le storie prendono vita. Scoprilo ora