Fallon

Chapter 8

The room I awoke in was dark, that made sense, it was night-time. I Could only see by the moonlight streaming through the window on one side of my bed. The bed itself was more like a gurney, the mattress desperately thin, the blankets scratchy and the the pillow lumpy. As I began to get my bearings I saw it was on wheels, more like a hospital trolley then a bed.

The room was very large and my bed was not alone, there were seven more like it. On the other side of the room there were a few warn out arm chairs, a pair of thick white doors, a sink, and a fair few cupboards and shelves that seemed to be filled with jars and bottles.

I pushed myself to sit upright, leaning back on my arm, locking my wrist to keep me up. I brushed my other hand threw my hair and over my dampened brow. It was far too warm in the room, I struggled to push away the blankets which were slick with sweat and stuck to my legs even as I peeled them back.

As I sat peering round in confusion I noticed something brewing in the corner. A shape, a mess of black tendrils soft as feathers, thin as rain. But there.

I swept in a sharp breathe and shrank back against the pillow, I wrapped my arms around my knees and leant my head on them.

My knee caps dug into my eye sockets but the pain was familiar, I could deal with it. It was almost comforting, something I was in control of.

I rocked back and forth, any second I would awake in my room in a cold sweat. My parents wouldn't know, I was silent when I dreamed. Always. I would tell them in the morning and they would exchange a glance before telling me it was nothing, the way they always had.

The dreams had always been there, as long as I could remember. Strange creatures, people, places. All so very familiar but too bizarre to be real.

I curled my toes, hard enough that the joints cracked. It reminded me of how my dad cracks his knuckles.

I wanted to wake up, this had gone far enough. I pinched my shoulder. It hurt.

But the sticky sheets were still bunched around my shaking knees. I was still dreaming.

“Evie?” I knew that voice. I shouldn't. But I did. Fallon.

I jerked my head up to see his face, pale and concerned, looming over me. He reached out a hand to touch my shoulder by I cringed away from the contact. I shouldn't be here. I was dreaming.

His face fell, upset at my disgust.

“Evier, are you OK?” He repeated holding his hands behind his back.

I ran my eyes up and down him, then let them wander back to the creature in the corner. It couldn't be real. Things like this just didn't happen. Not to me...Not to anyone.

If I didn't answer, didn't respond to any of it, it wouldn’t be real.

Fallon's eyes followed mine; neither of us said anything for a long, cold, quiet moment.

“What are you looking at?” He asked slowly, voice hollow.

The thing undulated, pulsating and twitching at the sound of his voice.

My eye flitted back to his face, it was haggard and worn all of a sudden. How could someone’s eyes age, but not their face? I met his gaze, levelling out. His eyes burrowed into me but I held firm, breathing slowly, back to the window.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and then turned away, the look on his face was pained. “Saul?”

A door in the far corner, on a I hadn't noticed, swished open to reveal three men. Two in scrubs one in a white coat.