A Short Story : A Story?

After arriving at the hospital with severe facial and cranial injuries due to a car accident, Pansy Vanneman began to lock herself away within her head in silent, unspoken hopes of escaping the terrible pain that surged throughout her body. She

Her voice was like a whisper as the jail’s bars slowy closed upon her face. her vision was still dizzy, and she had not eat anything for hours. turning her head back, she tried to walk. clumsy steps were the best she could do, occasionally almost stumbling to reach the bed, or at least what seemed like a bed to her.

The boy suddenly spoke, “Don't worry. They stopped drugging you a few days ago. That’s just to give your body nutrients. Just close your eyes. And don’t make a scene when they come back, or they’ll drug you again.”

A trickle of fear had her lying motionless with her eyes closed, straining to hear the slightest noise. A deep sigh of regret and the pressure of a body by her side made her acutely aware that she wasn’t alone.

Jenna’s head throbbed, her eyes were hazy, she blinked struggling to make out her surroundings. She became conscious of a wetness on my arms and torso. Craning her head downwards she acknowledged the pool of crimson blood seeping from her forearms. The memory of drawing those thin lines replayed within her head, the distraction of the physical pain from the psychological battle. Having awoken from fainting after a loss of blood she felt faint and dizzy.

She hissed at herself through her teeth like she were in physical agony, even though she had managed to escape fairly unscathed. Her whole body was hardened and tense as she sat there, holding herself more tightly than she ever had done before, willing herself not to shout out into the emptiness around

Blurred vision engulfed her thoughts, the sound of sirens filled the emptiness she felt or just confused

The sound of her pulse interrupted him. She had no choice now, as the heavy beating would only increase in speed and soon enough her breathing would shorten. The physical symptoms were always the hardest to explain, and she especially didn’t want to have to do it in front of those she barely knew. She stood quickly and stumbled past a group, barely getting out an “Excuse me,” as she passed.

The pain is worse than she expected. Wave after wave of tightening crashing on the shore of her endurance. She won’t cry out. Won’t give this moment the appearance of punishment. She stares at the bright lights above and listens to the school-mistress voice of the

“Uh, yeah! Sure!” When I knew I was l alone I ran all over town looking for the source of the snow. I finally found it at an abandoned warehouse just outside of town. I waited a couple of seconds before saying something but before I could, someone spoke.

The silence only lasted for a few mere moments before the shock had worn off. Elsa stared forward at the Zhánshí member frozen in ice before her. The person had her hands out in front of themselves as if she had realized what was happening a split-second before it actually occurred. For a moment, Elsa glanced down at her own hands, shocked just as much as the others that she had let herself lose control like that. She glanced up at the other clan in front of her. Half of them held an expression of pure fear and panic while the others’ eyes danced with rage.

She shook violently, touching her forehead, a slight migraine starting to form, before it vanished. Her head snapped back, memories suddenly hitting her. Mom. Dad. Attention. No Attention. Need. Want. Riches. Poor. Friends. Love. No one. Loneliness. No one was there.

But what really left her to ponderment was how to wake up from it. She attempted once or twice to let out some kind of sound to at least give herself a start: not even a whimper or a cry left her in that moment. Instead she could only hear a whisper, not her own but that of a stranger; starting as a soft sound in her ear and slowly reaching an echoed loudness in her mind, while an anonymous clutch became tight around her throat. It was nothing, yet somehow she’d now been drowning in it like a sea of an unknown substance. She felt no state of fatigue present, like some constant unwavering torture of sorts. First she turned right, as the breathe drained from

It was the lack of control that scared her. When you were that dizzy, you couldn't tell where you were, and getting down on the ground was wrought with error. She saw all the sharp corners of the suddenly dangerous room. It could have been worse, she could have cracked her head, banged her face, or put an eye out instead of just bruising a left shoulder. How was she ever to get it right without endangering herself? Maybe just a couple of slow turns at first and see what happened. But not now, she lay on the large bed and closed her eyes.

The first thing I noticed when I entered into the now cloudy light outside was how cold it was; too cold to be May. I was brought out my thoughts by soft sobs and remembered the task at hand: getting Sally back to her dorm. The first challenge was getting past the frisbee team practicing on the quad, so grabbing Sally by the hand, I pulled her over to the back of Straus and sat behind a tree in the damp grass in excruciating silence. I finally asked, “Hey, Sal? Could you tell me what’s going on?” She screamed, which in the wide open quad inducing some of the frisbee players to glance over, curious as to what was going on. I immediately grabbed Sally’s hand and made her take deep breaths. She leaned back on the tree and sighed, calming down a bit. Eventually we walked down the long path past the flagpole and the chapel, through the Hallowell passage, and to Sally’s dorm. She opened the door of her dorm, and we walked down the long hallway to her room. I made Sally sit down on her bed and take three deep breaths while I got a glass of water. We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity.