Dark Enough -TMR- ( COMPLETED)

Chapter 11

The rest of the day Eleanor was left to work on her own.

No one bothered her and she was extremely grateful they didn't. Even Zart didn't approach her and he went as far as taking the rakes himself.

Although, it made her feel bad, not following his orders; she couldn't bear going inside that place again. She knew her Keeper probably thought she was an emotional basket case. If she was being honest with herself, she knew she was, but she couldn't help feeling the way she was feeling.

She was sure her expresion was anything but approachable. Anger, sadness, despair and everything else that came with a gut-wrenching feeling, was pulsating through her mind; blurring her thoughts together and making it hard to focus. She was more than certain it showed on her face, hence why no Track-hoe dared to go within five meters of her.

However, that didn't mean they didn't stare at her. She could feel the looks boring into her skin, conjuring up nerves and jumpiness inside of Eleanor.

After crossing looks with Zart's scrutinizing stare and Newt's concerned eyes that were observing her every move for the seventh time, she turned around, working on the other direction. The girl hoped that, that way, she could block out the world around her.

However, even then, she could feel their gazes prickling on the back of her neck.

She started working more instensely, knife cutting through the plants, stronger, faster. She focused her mind on the simple action, willing for the world around her to disappear.

She had actually had a conversation with him.

Cut. Her arm swung, blade cutting through stems.

Well... If you could call it a conversation.

Cut. Why had she backed down?

Cut. Why hadn't she pressed him further?

Cut.

Why did she have to be so shucking emotional?

Cut.

He didn't deserve her tears.

Cut.

He hadn't given her any answers.

Cut.

Only more questions.

Cut.

More.

Cut.

Goddamn.

Cut.

Questions!

She gasped, as steel cut through something that wasn't plant. Blood started flowing, creating red patterns on her skin. She watched red drops painting the green. The leaves tinted with new dots of scarlett blood.

She gazed at the deep cut on the palm of her hand and quickly diverted her gaze.

Her stomach turned and a strange warmth started conquering her chest. The world swayed around her, her sight blurry, her dizzy thoughts entirely populated by red.

She closed her eyes trying to steady her breathing.

She knew she didn't like blood. She had found out that much as she had tried out to be a Med-jack. But her dizziness watching Jack's wound was nothing compared to what she was feeling then.

She knew she would be sick if she glimpsed her blood again. So, she kept her eyes closed, willing for her nausea to die down.

She cursed herself. Why was it that she always let her emotions get the better of her?