Novera, Novera

Handy

I pounded out the rest of my sentence and took a deep breath.
"Ten more pages, Nov, ten more pages, then we can stop," I chanted to myself, longing for the sweet release of sleep. I received coffee instead.
"Ten more pages."
My fingers began to dance across the keys again, moving in tune with the rhythm of my mind. Their steps didn't stutter as my mind began to drift off, but I was no longer in control of what they spoke. The music they made would become a language separate from my tongue and a danger to my thoughts.
I forced my eyes open to regain control of my fingers.
"What the hell?" The scream escaped my mouth before I had a chance to process anything, but this was not my home.
An arrow flew past my face and hit the tree behind me. I covered my mouth and got ready to scream.
"Rosabelle!"
Oh god, oh no. I'm going to die. I don't know who just yelled that, but they're close and probably ready to slice my throat.
"Rose, thank goodness, we thought- who cares, I'm just glad you're alive," a female voice whispered as its speaker wrapped her thin arms around me.
"Wait, did you call me Rosabelle?"
"Yes, Rose, that's your name."
Caution coursed through my veins as I spun around.
"Kat?"
"Yes? Are you okay, R?"
What the?
Pause. Pause this whole thing, right now. Let me observe.
Kat first. Her hair. Her long, beautiful, bright pink hair that cascaded over her shoulder in a perfectly messy braid. Her eyes were brown, usually common, but not hers. Hers had bright blue flecks in them that lit up in the sun.
She was unmistakably gorgeous, and undoubtedly one of a kind.
As she adjusted her quiver and set her bow on the ground, I took in her outfit. She wore a black tank top with black skinny jeans that never worked with her job description.
I'm dreaming. I have to be, right? I mean, this girl standing in front of me is a character that I wrote. This can't be real. God, this is so cliche. C'mon, brain, you couldn't have thought up a more creative way to scare me for a solid minute?
"Rose, I don't know what's going on, but we really need to get moving," Kat warned, confusion and caution mixing with fear to create a deadly toxin.
I breathed it in and took a leap.
"Kat, can I borrow a throwing knife? I think I just need a moment to refocus."
"Sure thing?" Confusion never left her voice. Rosabelle didn't throw knives, ever, so confusion was fitting, I suppose.
She delicately handed me a shining silver knife, and I grabbed it appreciatively.
Without a second thought, I quickly spun and set my hand on the tree behind me. I didn't give Kat a second to question me before I jammed the knife through the center of my hand. I was completely prepared to be launched awake, I mean there was no doubt in my mind that this was just a lucid dream. However, all I received was the scream that I believe came from my own mouth.
"What the hell, Rosabelle!" Kat's scream almost matched mine.
I covered my mouth, too much pain was blossoming through my entire existence for me to speak.
Kat yanked the knife out of the tree— and my hand— and glared at me.
"I was supposed to wake up!" I cried, cradling my hand.
Kat's glare was replaced with a fresh wash of concern, "What in the world are you talking about? Have you been poisoned? We need to take you to Jay, he'll know what to do."
I pulled my spewing hand to my stomach, but yanked it away when I felt the blood hit my skin.
"Why did I write this!" I yelled as I took in her— well, my— lack of an actual shirt. "A sports bra and shorts? Great attire, me, great freaking choice."
Kat retrieved a large piece of cloth from her quiver and began to wrap my hand, concern thickly dripping down her face like syrup.
"What have you eaten? Drank? Have you smelt anything funky? Do you have a fever?" her questions droned on as she began pulling me toward the camp site. I couldn't blame her for her concern, I did just stab myself and yell about writing her-- and now my-- life, but I was still salty about it.
It was a solid twenty minutes before we got to camp and most of it was spent with complaints about how stupid I was. I was still pretty caught up in the fact that my current location was fictional.
My thoughts on that, however, were interrupted by Kat yelling for Jay. Of course, the first thing he did was give me an exasperated look. That look came back tenfold when he heard the story.
"You just decided that it would be a good idea to jam a knife through your hand?"
"I didn't think it'd hurt," I whispered, "but when you put it that way, it sounds kinda dumb."
His blue eyes did not refrain from giving me the most dramatic eye roll ever.
"You just wanted to come see me, didn't you?"
I laughed a little, without irony, for what seemed like the first time in forever.
"You got me there," I smirked.
Jay gently took my injured hand before shifting his attention to Kat.
He gave her a nod, "I've got Belle, you get back out there."
She gave me one last meaningful look then bolted as Jay escorted me inside a tent.
I looked around in awe, everything I wrote was laid out in front of me exactly as I had envisioned it.
Jay got working on my hand before he began to interrogate me.
"What's up,Belle? This isn't like you."
I hesitated, looking into the oceans waving in his eyes, then at his concerned forehead wrinkles as he ran his hand through his messy brown hair.
This was Jay. The loving, caring, sweet Jay. Trustworthy Jay. I could trust them all, of course, but if I wanted to know what to do, Jay was the perfect place to start.
I, however, am an author, and plots don't develop if you throw around the secrets of the main character. I'm going to be a true book character and struggle on my own, it would be no fun if I made the right choice.
"I'm good, I honestly don't know what got into me."
Jay casted me a skeptical look, but didn't push, "Okay..."
He put the finishing touches on my newly dressed, but still throbbing, hand.
I smiled at Jay and gave him one of Rosabelle's ever so charismatic finger guns before stretching out. "So," I began. "What's up, doc?"
Oh, I could already tell, this was going to be fun.