"You can't love someone back to life, Israfil." She whispered. Her chest heaved with desperation, her heart throbbing against her rib cage.
He shook his head, "You can try," Israfil responded softly. "Let me love you, Farah."
-
In a society of lies...
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chapter eleven - lycan
song of the chapter ; changes - H.E.R.
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DÉJÀ VU IS an eerie experience that the majority of the population has encountered at least once in their lives. It is typically caused by being put in a certain situation or entering a conversation that triggers intense feelings of uncanny familiarity. And although you know for certain you had had never been in this conversation, or situation, the feeling is so severe despite the fact that you know it's impossible.
Although not for the same exact reason, or even the same hospital bed, Farah felt déjà vu weakening her limbs and weighing them down with figurative lead. She lay hearing the steady beeps of her heart rate on the cardiac monitor and her first instinct was to turn her head and look for any signs of Noah. But he was nowhere in sight, and the quick rotate of her neck caused a searing pain to remain evident across her collarbone.
And then the pain wasn't only in her neck, it burned all over her body. She was straining for relief but none could be found. Every single part of her body that Noah had touched previously was aching and throbbing, she could suddenly feel every forced caress or strike on her skin. Her chapped lips fell open and she let out a whimper of agony, but that was all that she could do.
Her throat was too dry and tender for her to do anything else. It felt like she hadn't drunk a sip of water for countless merciless days like she had swallowed spoonfuls of sand that had quenched any remaining moisture. Farah swallowed hard in hopes that it would provide some sort of alleviation but it was to no avail, it just felt like thick molasses sliding down her throat.
She croaked out again, awakening Israfil beside her.
That, too, was a contribution to the déjà vu.
He looked up suddenly, his silver eyes scanning the room and then landing on her.
It looked like she was drowning in bedsheets, her figure so minuscule it was almost as if there was no one there at all, but Israfil could sense her from miles away. Her head lay pressed against the cushioned cotton pillows, her black hair a contrast to the white of the fabric. Her skin looked deathly pale and more gray-toned than it's normal golden hue.
"Farah?"
The cardiac monitor's beeps grew at a rapid rate.
She could barely turn her head to him, but her eyes were wide with alarm. "What are you doing here?" She could barely even scream, and the crack in her words was incredibly evident.
