Starseeds: The Broken-Winged

| 8 | Seltris

Lurid light seeped through my thick, quivering eyelashes and touched my eyes, intensifying and illuminating my perception for a minute. I blinked, and blinked, and blinked again. My hazy vision cleared, and above me were rectangular lights submerged into the ceiling, welcoming me back from my siesta.

I groaned when pain suddenly erupted from my neck. I touched my neck, feeling something fluffy and soft compressed to my skin. A bandage. A bandage concealed the area where that hideous beast bit me. I wrenched my body upwards into a sitting position, analysing the environs.

I think I'm in a medical room. I could tell by the immense space, the stench of medicines promenading in the air and the endless rows of beds. Some occupied by people either sleeping or groaning as they felt pain, whilst others are awake and relaxing as they entertained themselves with their phones. Other beds are empty, refreshed and clean.

Where am I?

I heaved the sheets veiling me off my body, swinging my legs to the side. My nude feet touched the cold floor. I wasn't wearing my clothes anymore. Instead, I was in a plain gown, the type of gowns patients wear in hospitals. My warped hair was chaotic, and my naturally-light-tanned skin was bizarrely pale.

On the nightstand next to the bed, was a bowl filled with something mushy yet thick, and next to the bowl was a glass of water. I narrowed my eyes at some people who glanced at my direction. My uncertainties of this place strengthened. What if these people are bad people? What if they are Demons? So many questions overflowed my head, aching my mind for answers.

I grabbed the glass and gulped down the water, heaving a pleasant sigh as the drought in my throat disappeared. Then, I gently and silently battered the glass onto the nightstand for it to fracture. I picked up a large shard and clutched it securely, feeling the sharpness of it slitting the skin of my palm. I saw an exit, and gradually, I draw near to it, alert and aware of the eyes on me.

I was a step away from the exit when it suddenly opened, knocking me off-guard. I staggered backwards but managed to keep my stability. A girl wearing a hijab stepped through the entryway, holding a tray with injections and needles. Walking alongside her was a boy. The boy is quite dark-skinned, has that fairness brightening his sharp cheeks, plump lips and a mess of tiny twisted hair. Suspending from his left ear was an earring, and hanging from his nose was a nose-ring.

"There's only little left," the girl wearing the hijab said. "Jayden managed to get more of the antidote from Peru. But they were the last ones left."

"Aren't there other cures?" the boy asked.

"No, Zach. The poison in her veins is different. Rare. These are the only serums left to kill the pathogens in her –" The girl stopped talking when she saw me.

Zach stopped too and looked at me. He arched his perfectly shaped and thick eyebrows, as if my presence was surprising. He ran his dark eyes up and down my body before saying, "Well, Khadija, I guess you don't need the serum anymore."