And the Soul Moved on.

Chapter 5

That night, Lora's body ached. Even her skin felt sore, and she winced as she crawled into bed, her sheets feeling like sandpaper. Her mother had checked her fever, but the thermometer kept reading "HI", and her mom just grumbled about buying a new one the next day.

Lora had a cold glass of water next to her bed, which she had downed in a matter of seconds, and was now too tired to get up and refill it. The moon shone again through her window, and Lora's dry eyes lifted to its silhouette. If she had any more terrible dreams tonight, or any more hallucinations, she promised herself that she would tell her mother, no matter the response. This couldn't go on much longer before Lora would start to pull her hair out.

It took what felt like hours of tossing and turning before Lora finally tumbled away from consciousness.

~~~

Lora got up.

So, so thirsty.

Her body was on fire, and she needed water, gallons of it, to douse the flames. Her throat was burning, and she swallowed roughly.

She distantly felt her body move, getting up from the bed. The blankets had been kicked off onto the floor, and her skin held an almost glasslike sheen, sweat dripping down the small of her back.

She stepped calmly, almost gracefully, into the hallway. She looked across the hall to her mother's door, stepped towards it. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew she could get it if only she opened that door. She took a step, another, until a part of Lora screamed to stop, so loud it caused her body to shudder as she struggled to move away. She fought for a moment, silent and trembling, standing in the dark. Finally she turned to the stairs and began to descend. She was burning, scalding, and her ears could hear almost painfully how each step left the wooden floor sizzling. 

She floated down the stairs, thinking how a glass of water would calm the pain, how it would solve each ache and burn. She reached the sink, grabbed a cup, filled it. She drained it in seconds, filled it again. And again and again and again. And finally she just let the tap run, stuck her head under the faucet, and opened her mouth. She didn't know how long this went on for, but all she knew was that it wasn't enough. The water had run over her cheeks, into her hair, and soon she had turned the faucet off and began dripping out of the kitchen, her skin drying too quickly.

Suddenly she was outside. She didn't remember opening the door, but it was now shut behind her, and the noise of chicken whining rang softly as he scratched at the wood. She continued with bare feet, her pajama shorts askew and her tank top still too hot. Her feet touched the solid concrete of the sidewalk. They pushed through grass. They stepped off the curb, and she found her body moving across the street, towards the maple tree in Ms. Elmwood's yard. Into Ms. Elmwood's house.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was there, just that she was so thirsty she thought she would die right where she stood, and so she walked up to the door and twisted the lock. It snapped, and her ears twitched at the noise. She stepped onto cool tile floors, and cringed as the cheery noise of the tv screamed through the familiar home. The only thing that helped the pain, though, was sitting in front of the bright screen. It was as if each cell in Lora's body pulsed at the scent, as if her soul finally woke up in answer to such a powerful call. She was not operating her body; she was acting on pure instinct, an instinct that overshadowed her gaze, filled her eyes with red. Her body began to shake.

She took a step. Another. The smell of flesh, of sweat, the noise of Ms. Elmwoods pulse thumping steadily at her neck exposed to the air. She had fallen asleep, her breathing even, And Lora was so goddamn thirsty. She lurched towards Ms. Elmwoods still form, throbbing mouth opening on a groan as she finally found something to satiate her ingrained thirst.