Amoura
I was a thick bundle of pain. My eyes were closed and my lips cracked. I could do nothing but breath and even that was quite the struggle. I couldn't open my eyes or move my body.Why couldn't I just die? But I knew I couldn't think of that, my parents would hate it if they knew I wished to die just to be with them.
This same question and answer ran through my head many times as the man, my savior, Tried in vain to stop the pain. Time dragged by, my mind in semiconsciousness. No thoughts in my head were sane. I listened the man as he laid blankets over my frozen body. Why did he save me?
I could feel myself near death. I welcomed death. I longed for it to sweep in at last and take me into the darkness. For I was a pitiful creature. I didn't deserve to live.
The man talked to me as he worked. He explained to me what he was doing and how much it would hurt. He spoke gently, and his touch was soft. Oh how he differed from the men I had met on the streets since I had been forgotten. Those men touched me roughly and pressed their hands on me. They beat me. They kissed me with slimy, dry lips like hungry dogs.
Just the thought of the life I was living sent a shot of panic down my body. My breathing increased and at last my eyes shot open. The man jumped up. He had been occupying a chair beside me as I laid. Fear and panic clawed at me as a sob escaped my mouth. But no tears fell from my eyes. I didn't pity myself. I deserved this fate.
The man consoled me, hushing me and assuring me that it would be okay. His deep voice sent shivers of calm down my spine but I still breathed heavily, searching his eyes, trying to make him understand the pain I was in. The man fetched water and brought it to my lips, tipping my head so that it ran down my throat. I tried to struggle. I didn't want to live anymore. But he persisted.
"What hurts the most?" He asked me. He asked me this many times before. This time I looked in his eyes. I saw pity. I hate pity.
" Oh I'm quite ok, thank you Monsieur." I rasped, trying to make the pity disappear. The man just chuckled and shook his head.
" You must be stubborn. You lay here, with your own blood pooling around you and most likely in loads of pain. But whatever you say." He chuckled. " Is there anything I can do to help?" The man inquired.
"Will you sing?" I rasped out again, surprised at my own voice. It was low and scratchy, breaking off and making strange sounds before actually speaking.
The man looked surprised, but after a moment, he nodded slowly. He grabbed my hand gently and caressed my knuckles, soothing me in a way I could never begin to describe. I had half the mind to snatch my hand away, but I was oh, so tired. Then he opened his mouth and out floated out a note. A beautiful sound, glossy and perfect. His voice spoke to me in ways I had never heard. It pushed all thoughts of pain and sadness from my mind. I was in a trance like state. Hearing nothing but his voice.
Wandering child
So lost, so helpless
Yearning for my guidance
His voice rang out in a sure and precise manner. As he sang, a small smile came to my face. The song reminded me of his generosity, for taking me in.
As he finished he looked at me oddly. At my small smile even though blood was on my face and I was in various amount of pain.
"A Christmas carol would've sufficed." I croaked. The man chuckled deeply and squeezed my hand. And as the first happy thought not involving death invaded my mind since the fire, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
AUTHORS NOTE
Sorry I know the chapter was short but I have a long car trip to go on today so in planning on writing about 2 more chapters on the way. Thanks for reading!!
