Slowly, Maria's eyes slowly peeked open as she found herself on her side, snuggled up to a pillow in a dimly lit bedroom. She gently stretched her arms out and took one huge yawn which caused her to feel the presence behind her on the other side of the bed. She had fallen asleep with Kal that night. So, sleepily, she turned herself on her other side and slid her hand on top of Kal's bare chest, as he was laying on his back, with his arms nestled loosely behind his head. Maria felt the soft rising and falling of his chest, and nearly began to fall asleep again...
"Alright, miss Anais, it looks like you're coming along nicely in your overview." a female nurse said energetically as she skimmed over a few pages attached to a marked up clipboard.
"Zara." the recipient in the chair blankly responded.
The girl sighed frustratedly and adjusted herself in the chair, gripping the handles as her eyes locked onto the nurse's. "My name, it's Zara, I don't go by Anais anymore. I told the other nurse that and the one before that--both of them said they would change it, and clearly, neither did."
As Kal trotted with a limp up the slight incline of the concrete path to K-Haven, the rain lend no mercy to his current state. The rain kept pouring, the cracking, constant booms of thunder kept sounding, and the momentary bursts of vast, intricate lightning that lit up the black sky like an exploding lightbulb continued to shriek.
Kal's black sneakers made sloshing noises every time he put pressure on one foot, but at this moment, soaked shoes were the least of his long list of concerns. How humiliated he was by the sheer satisfaction Jackson drew from he and his compliant...
Without even thinking of the consequences, and not seeming to even care, Kal dashed over to the trunk of the tree. As he came to a sliding halt, he threw up his arms, latching his hands onto one of the lower boughs, and yanked himself upward until he found himself sitting on it. From there, he found another branch and repeated the process.
"What in the hell is that boy doing..?" One of the men in the back of the car asked as he watched dumbfounded. He turned to see if Jackson was as confused as he was, but ultimately found that he was more annoyed than bewildered.
All was quiet that next morning. As the sun finally rose and replaced the moon in the sky, the little birds outside began to rejoice by gleefully chirping for hours on end, prompting a man to raise his window angrily, and toss a book at one of the nearby clusters. They scattered and took their business elsewhere as the city began its daily routine.
A slim crack of light edged its way in through the curtains of Hannah and Damion's home, and found its rightful place on Hannah's left eye.
By the time Damion and Hannah pulled into their driveway, the clock on the dashboard read 10:32 p.m.
"Well. We're home~" Damion stated cheerfully as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Now, let's go make that tea~"
He turned to his left to open the door and slid himself out, but before he could shut the door, he noticed that Hannah didn't move. She stayed buckled in, with her arm propped up on the window, still looking out. She seemed to have not even noticed they were home.
By this time, random onlookers were starting to form in groups around the two of them, and as even more people began to join in, the more Damion began to feel uneasy about the situation. The mumbles among the groups were becoming louder, with some asking if anyone saw someone attack her, and others asking if she had a breakdown of sorts. Some whipped out their phones and began to record as one man started shouting, claiming he saw Hannah throw herself down and how she was doing this purely for attention, because, according to him, "that's just what females do."
Hannah couldn't help but let her mind wander as she waited for the bus at the bus stop that dark night. Maybe she really was getting in way over her head and it was a bad idea to let this girl come into her life. As her mind flickered back to the daydream she had as she stood in that loud police station just 20 hours before, her hand slowly rose from her side and found her soft neck. She rubbed it slightly in the spot where the gash was made, making sure the skin was still intact. Maybe it was the paranoia, or maybe it was the tiredness, but she could have sworn she could still feel the glass...