Altered

Thirty: Understanding

Charlotte opened her eyes. She blinked, dazed, trying to figure out where she was. Her own room swam into focus, a lamp in the corner burning low. Her bed certainly made for a more comfortable resting place than the cramped armchair. She stretched, feeling immensely better than she had. She wondered briefly if it had all been a bad dream, but knew better than to doubt the true horrors of Kingston.

Cautiously she sat up, stifling a yawn. Her head only swam for the briefest moment as she slid out of the bed. She felt stronger and even the aches in her body had faded. She walked across the corridor, pushing the door to James' room open without knocking. He was still asleep, though it looked like somebody had cleaned his face. The black marks had vanished.

"How are you feeling?" Charlotte glanced away from James to Harris. He was still sitting in the same chair, considerably further into his book than he had been.

"Better... thanks," she replied, curtly. "How is James?"

"Tired. He was awake for a bit, maybe an hour ago. He is weak and sore, but the worst is over," Harris yawned. Charlotte nodded sitting in the chair beside James, once more.

"How long was I asleep?" she whispered, taking the blanket she had been using earlier and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"About five hours," he sighed. "It's nearly midnight".

"Have you had a chance to rest yet?"

"Not yet, but I am okay," he replied. Charlotte looked at him, narrowing her stare and scrutinising his grey eyes. There were slight bags under them, and they were bloodshot. He had been awake for a long time.

"You look exhausted," she breathed, looking back at James. Harris chuckled softly, placing the book down.

"You can't even see my face," he laughed.

Charlotte looked at him in silence for a few moments. "I can see it in your eyes," she shrugged. There was another pause as they appraised each other.

"You... don't seem as bad as they say," he said, his eyes scrutinising her warily.

"Don't I?" she replied her voice hollow and distant. "I mustn't be trying hard enough".

Harris laughed again. "It's just you seem more terrified than terrifying," he continued shaking his head in disbelief.

"Well, you've seen me at my worst," she muttered, hugging her knees into her chest. "My life revolves around fear. I am either creating it in others or fleeing from it as fast I can". She had to admit she felt broken. All fight had left her. Even the monster inside had withdrawn, hiding somewhere deep at the back of her mind where he wouldn't be found, like a wounded animal.

"There's more to you than fear," he said slowly, standing up. "You know, I am feeling tired, actually. I'll leave you two". He winked at her, his turbulent, grey eyes kind. Charlotte watched him leave. He started humming as he walked out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

She sighed, turning back to James, surprised to see his green eyes watching her guardedly. She opened her mouth to speak, ready to rush her apologies, her fears and doubts, her questions, her gratitude that he was finally awake, but she stopped herself. "Hi," she whispered, dropping her legs to the floor and scooting to the edge of the chair.

"Hi," he replied, searching her face, her body.

"How are you feeling?" she asked tentatively.

James paused as if he was contemplating the question. "Sore," he finally grunted, resting his head back against the pillow. "And tired".