So I got a bit more work done on the story last night when I decided to be a loner and go to dinner along. :) I find that I work better when there is a little noise in the background, and when I can write it all on paper-or, in this case, a napkin. I wrote a ton! I completely filled the napkin. That was the only reason I stopped.
On another topic, I have seen some new activity on the blog!!! Welcome one and all! Thanks so much for reading! Ask any other viewers. I love my followers. ;)
So here's the next part of the story! I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!!! (Which was a ton, by the way) ;)
Part 2, Sniper
Anabelle awoke, the ringing pain again enveloping her, threatening to drag her back down into the recesses of its warm blackness. She did not attempt to sit up, remembering the results of the previous morning.
“Who are you?” She could see the man walking around the room and look up when she addressed him.
“You can call me Alex.”
She noted his soft purr of a voice and hated it instantly. Her eyes darted back to the ceiling and closed.
They shot back open. She bit her lower lip. “Anabelle. Why did you take me here? Where are we?”
He turned back to his tasks without a reply. He came to her bedside moments later, with a syringe. She struggled to move away, but the pain roared back into her skull and she gave up. He pressed it gently into the bend of her arm, and she heard his now-distant voice whisper,
“This will help you sleep. Goodnight...Anabelle.”
“You have got to stop doing that to me!” Anabelle said outrageously when she awoke the next morning.
“It was necessary for you to rest. Now that you are awake, would you like something to eat?”
Anabelle frowned and sat up a little, the pain having mellowed to a throb. “What time is it?”
“Eleven AM. The shooting was four days ago.” Alex set a plate in her lap. She glanced down at it with a sigh. Bread and...bread…
“Really? This is what you call breakfast?”
“No,” he said, turning, “That’s your breakfast. Anything more than that and your body will reject it.”
She glared at him. “What do you know about my body?”
“Plenty!” he retorted. Then blushed and looked at the floor. “I don’t want you to get sick.”
“That’s crap.” She said. She looked away and felt the plate lift from her lap. Momentarily, another took its place. A heavenly smell wafted into her nose.
Bacon, eggs and a slice of hot bread smothered in melted butter with a glass of warm milk.
A bite went down. Two. Four.
“Be careful. Don’t eat too fast.”
Anabelle looked up to see him observing her while eating his own breakfast. She scooped more in. After a couple more bites, her stomach protested. Her now-repulsive-looking breakfast spilled over her front. Alex was at her side in moments, collecting it in a bucket, one hand on her back, the other bracing the bucket. Once her spasms had resolved, her eyelids fell shut and she looked up into his face.
“You can say ‘I told you so’ now.”
He looked back at her as he wiped her forehead with a warm cloth. “I don’t believe in unnecessary spite.”
She rolled her eyes. He moved away and washed his hands. She cringed. They would both smell like puke now, she thought with remorse. He caught her eyes on him and nodded his head at her.
She breathed heavily once and lifted her eyebrows. “Any chance I could get a shower? Maybe I could wash my dress, too. I’d rather not smell like throw-up for however long I’m here.”
Alex helped her off the cot and let her to a room with wooden panels on the floor and a wooden spout gushing water that flowed from the wall.
Throw your clothes out when you are in. I’ll wash them while you are busy. Soap is on the ledge on the wall.” He left.
Anabelle let loose a deep breath and combed her fingers through her scraggly hair. She lifted her dress up and over her head and once unclothed, tossed her garments out the door, and stepped under the spout. A steaming torrent of hot water burned over her body, causing her to smile with pleasure, then gasped when it washed the dried blood from her wounds, turning the water to a clear red. She glanced down at her side. Ten neat stitches lined her hip. Crusted red still stuck, so she rubbed her fingers with soap and, biting her tongue, dug her fingers into the wound, scrubbing it thoroughly with soap. She cried out, and her eyes smarted, but finally it was done. She sat down on the wooden panels, letting the water flow over her skin and wash away the grime and sweat.
An hour later, she emerged, the room full of steam. She wiped the vapor from a shard of broken mirror. Her hair was tangled, and her face was pale. Red scratches lined her arms and legs. Tears began to fall down her face. A sob emerged. She jumped when someone knocked on the door.
“Anabelle? Are you alright?”
She took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m washed. Where are my clothes?”
A pause. “They aren’t quite dry. I’m putting some clothes through the door.”Anabelle stepped back behind the door while he laid them on the counter, then shut the door behind him. She looked through the clothes. A man’s shirt, and a pair of skinny jeans. So he had girls jeans (why-ever that may be) but he didn’t have a shirt? She sighed again. She seemed to have been doing that a lot lately. It was a long time before she put the clothes on and walked out.
Thanks so much for reading! I had a great time writing this, so I hope you all liked it!!!
Now that that's done, I haven't gotten any emails about the challenge I issued a bit ago!! What's up with that??? Haha I hope none of you *gasp* forgot to do it! Oh dear. Haha well, if you have not seen my post about the challenge, I posted it on October 25, and I wanted all of you to walk up to strangers on the sidewalk on your way to school, work etc. and start a conversation. Please email, comment, chat me! I would love to hear from you.
Now, sadly I have to end the post here. My cat is pleading for attention. :)
Have a great week! I hope to add more tomorrow, maybe. :)