Within The Cave- Originals

Chapter 13

"You remember." He state.

"What do you mean?"

For a moment, my mind lays back to the dream, telling me to forget, or else I would forget forcefully. Will he do something like to me? — make me forget forcefully?

"What did you see?" He ask, not sharing me a glance at least. His eyes squint, looking ahead. His knuckles are pale white. His skin is no less. I look at his forearms, they are clean are free from injury. Instead, I approach in another way.

"What you did — it is impossible. Are you a magician?"

"Is that what comes to your mind?" He ask, right away.

"If I tell you what came to my mind as hazy as it is right now, you would call me crazy."

"Test me. Didn't I just did something crazy earlier?"

I still haven't realize his tone. My head is still buzzing. He is driving too fast.

"Slow down."

"What did you see?"

I shift on my seat to look at him.

"You won't hurt me." I ask more questioningly, than request, or a statement. He intimidates me more than anyone has, even in this state of mine. I can't say why, but I explain.

"I see what you did — you...you stopped the van with...only your hands." I frown, accumulating the words like they are polynomials. "Your eyes — the way they change. Their colours. What are you?"

"Sleep." He says, all of the sudden.

I couldn't fight the powers his words bestowed on me as I feel myself, falling into slumber. I try to fight it, but it's to no avail. My eyes close and I do as I'm bid with gladness for the first time in my life.

When I wake up, I'm on the bed. The sun is shining its light into my room, past the window — the curtains are not covering it.

I try to snuggle into the bed, wanting more sleep, but feels uncomfortable instead. I peel the sheets away from my body, but only results into nothing but same rate of heat. Today is very sunny. I think to myself.

I sit up, realizing that all the curtains are spread out, allowing lights into my bedroom. No wonder I feel much heat as that.

I roll off the bed and brush my hair behind my hairs. Like a tick of clock, indicating each seconds counting, faint memories comes back to me. They are very blurry, causing headaches to come when I think harder about them. I hate to forget things, pressuring hard, but only resulting into more pains.

I groan out, tripping over my sudden-floppy legs and fall on my butt. The door opens, emerging the figure of Hayden.

"Rayne. Oh, my God. What is wrong again?" She sounds sore stressed and worried. I feel bad for her, matter-of-factly knowing it is my cause, and that momentarily makes me hate myself.

"I'm sorry. I don't know. It's a severe headache. It hurts like crazy. I can't remember anything. I try to, but I can't. It only results in pain. What happened, Hayden?" I rush my words, letting them come outside without thinking. Hayden helps me up in the meanwhile. I sit on the bed, while she's beside me. She brushes my hair to the sides.

"You didn't remember? Not anything?"

I nod at her, I want to, but I'm afraid of the pain it might results into. I don't want to feel something like that again. It is as if my hair were being yanked off my head — the pain. Just imagining it, makes me want to puke.

"I can't." I breath out. Inhales loudly again. Whatever happens that I can't remember makes me feel pain.

"You had an accident yesterday." I widen my eyes at Hayden, unbelievably. Why can't I remember having an accident? I think I remember something about wheeling the bicycle...

"Hayden." I shout, gripping her cloth by her thighs, her flesh doesn't go unpunished, but I couldn't seem to care. The pain continues, and when I open my eyes, tears are on it, brimming, and I let them fall. I sniffle, crying in between.

"It's okay, Rayne." Hayden coos. She pats my back when I sob on her thighs.

I retract, placing my head up, and wiping the tears away with the back of my palm, meanwhile, sniffling.

"I'm sorry, your thighs." I peel her gown upwards above where I had gripped, seeing the reddish, sore, scrape of wound.

"My thighs can wait. What about you? Where did you remember things to?"

I check my brain. I remember Lydia, abusing me, calling me a presumptuous kind of person...Hayden, saving me from her devilish intentions...her threats.

"I remember Lydia's talks and you, saving me. This is one of her intentions, right? This is the meaning of her statement about causing me injury?" I throw the questions to Hayden in an angry voice that's very unlike me. Hayden is stunned.

"As much as I hate that bitch. Please Rayne, don't do anything bad she will do."

"Are you supporting her? I can't remember anything. Maybe I hit my head or something-"

"You did. The bad boy took you to the hospital. I'm surprised your mom isn't here yet. Maybe she was not at work when you were brought in." Hayden adds, convincing herself more, rather than me, who's looking at her in a dazed intensive stare.

"That too. I don't even want to know anything, but that Lydia causes this. I will make her learn through the right way. She thinks she's smart, doesn't she? I will let her know I'm smarter than her." I say out of fury, yelling at myself in anger. I knew it, that I would have many comebacks to give her, and I'll make sure I do.

I stomp to the bathroom, feeling sore angry, most of it are directed to myself — that I let Lydia cause me harm without hurting her at all. She will, most likely, be laughing her ass off to my discomfort, that I let the bad boy drives me to the hospital. Now, I will have to face mom's talk. But if she knew, she would stay around, and not still be at work. Maybe she didn't know after all. My subconscious tells me. I wish I can ask her questions about what happened when my consciousness was asleep.

"Hey, Miss Rayne Miles. Better be careful. Exercise patient please. You being angry is a very bad idea. I have never seem your anger before, but this one, I'm seeing seems like you are a different person to me. I wouldn't urge you to act this way. Have a bath and let's talk at the kitchen. I will prepare breakfast."

Hayden gaits out of the room, leaving me in the silent room, except the sound of my ragged breathing. My jaws are dripping with sweats from my forehead. Why do I feel so angry? I feel unlike myself? I must look like a wild animal — like a beast in human form. A beast in human form?

For an unknown reason, I reel over it. A beast in human form? Why does it feels familiar in an unclear way?

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