Chapter 66 ~ A Pain in the Collarbone

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3rd Person's POV ~ 

She quivered and nearly crumbled in terror, her knees buckling before she put on her best imitation of a brave aura. Her hands clenched by her sides into fists, and she swallowed back the dread that surged through her blood.

"I can do this." She muttered, walking through her worst nightmare. 

Eventually, she couldn't muster enough courage to walk and simply ran through the flooded streets like that could keep her further away from her fears. Her feet pounded mercilessly against the road, and on the way, she'd nearly stopped in pain when a thorn surged into her collarbone. How did that happen ? She didn't know. Actually, she supposed it might have been when a rose bushel nearly struck her. 

She sprints through the roads, grumbling at herself about why she didn't think to bring her car keys. Each time her foot rained down on the pavement, the thorn would get deeper by the slightest,  but enough so that the next step she took was weaker. The tip of it pricked her skin, demanding blood from her shoulder.

She was drenched from head to toe, skin to clothes if you will, yet she persisted, gasping for air when the thorn had gone farther into her skin than she'd like it to. Fortunately, she'd spotted the 24/7 pharmacy who's store lights were the only one's on. She supposed they were legally supposed to operate at all times, even if no one was in a state to be traveling. 

For now, though, that didn't matter. Her wallet was dry, and the bills inside were crisp and warm as she rushed to the door. The floor of the pharmacy was tiled and sleek. Not ideal for a drenched customer. She saw an old man rushing to help, but she looked warily down at her attire. 

Her clothes stuck to her more than Jennie did in the morning, and her beautiful hair stuck to her pale face as she grimaced. "Sir, I'm so sorry, but I don't want to get your store wet. Could you please grab me some Panadol ?" 

He looked astounded as though no one had ever called him 'sir' in a long, long time. When she tried to smile kindly at him, it came out as a wince of pain, which seemed to knock him out of his dreamy and disbelieving stupor. She wrenches her wallet from her pocket, as the old man had gingerly placed the pills on her cut, bruised palm. 

He stared at her wounds as if it was his fault they'd made a mark on her beautifully soft skin. When she'd tapped his shoulder kindly and held out a wad of bills with two hands as courtesy, he blushed beet red and started to stutter. 

"That's much more than the price, dear." He manages finally. 

"I know, but the change is for the trouble of having to bring me something." She grins. It seemed impossible that someone so beautiful could be castaway in such horrid circumstances, but there she was, drenched and offering a stack of cash. 

"N-no, I can't." He insists. A surge of compassion flooded though the man as he gently pushed her hand away. "Free of charge." 

She looked like she might refuse, but stopped her self, a pretty glint appearing in her even prettier eyes. She pushed her free hand out between them, and the man smiled, shaking it. She'd pulled away with a smile, and gestured to herself. "I'd hug you, but you know....." She points at her soaking form. 

"I understand." He grins. 

She waves goodbye before running off, and he felt something in his palm that he hadn't before he shook her hand. 

The wad of cash. 

He stares in awe after her running form which had turned around briefly to wink at him. He looked back at the money muttering something along the lines of, "6 months of rent off my hands." 

She nearly yelped out loud when a strike of lightning hit the ground a couple yards away from her, and she decided on the spot that she'd better get home quick. She runs up the stairs, the water having run down from all of them to a small puddle by the bottom, all the way to her dorm where she breaks the stick in half, the wood falling out of the handles. She pushes through, closing the door with a soft thud. 

"Thank goodness." She murmurs to herself as his door was open yet he was barely asleep, constantly turning. She crept in, placing the pills softly on his bedside table and rushing out, leaving the door awry. 

She sighs as she trudges back to the room, her hair dripping against the carpet. "It's just water." She mutters to herself. "It'll evaporate." 

She headed into the shower, her clothes ticking to her and making a decent bit of noise as they slapped against her laundry bin. The hot water pelted her skin softly, and she sighed, her scalp no longer numbing her skull and her body suddenly surging with warmth. 

She winces as the water runs over her collarbone where the thorn had miraculously embedded itself and shuts off the water, backing away from the pain. 

Soon enough, she'd gotten out of the shower with a simple pair of black shorts and a white crop top on. She made it to the couch in the living room before she passed out clean in exhaustion, succumbing to her urge to sleep. 

So there you have it. That's how the dorm ended up with 6 sleeping figures, 1 passed out form on the couch, and another very much awake body in his room, staring in awe at the pill bottle in his hands.

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