Elien;
The pain comes in waves, but every wave is bigger than the last.
I'm on my back in the big bed, propped up against yet another mountain of pillows, with my knees bent and a sheet over them. Someone has stripped me and wrapped me in a clean white shirt, and I'm already soaked through it. My hair is plastered to my forehead, and my mouth tastes like blood where I've bitten my lip.
It's been two hours. Or ten minutes. I can't tell anymore…
"Breathe," Zerana says from the foot of the bed. "In through your nose. Slowly. Don't hold it."
"I AM breathing!!" I scream, and she flinches.
"You're gasping. It isn't the same thing." She then scolds, and fresh tears fill my eyes.
She's kneeling on the mattress with her sleeves shoved up past her elbows. The bandages on her wrists are already stained. The red scales along her neck have gone dark in the lamplight, and her afro is tied back with a scrap of cloth, with that white streak sticking out like a banner.
