Alex didn't know how much time had passed. She'd been laying on the bed for what seemed like days, the drugs doing… things.
She'd been running. Why else would she be so sweaty? Running from something? She had to have been it must have been enormous…
She was standing in her old mess hall, tray of food in her hand. There was David motioning slowly, looking like his whole body was moving through jello.
He smiled at her and it broke her heart. He shouldn't have had to go through all this just to.
Her hands were itching. She balanced her tray on one hand to scratch it. And she couldn't stop scratching. It felt so good and it didn't satisfy and the itch went all the way down to her bones.
She looked down at her hand, she was suddenly standing at the table, her tray sitting peacefully on the surface.
And her hands were covered in blood. Her own blood. She had scratched the first layers of skin right off, almost down to the bone.
She began to pant and panic. Her hands were so itchy and she couldn't stop scratching and scratching and scratching.
She felt the presence before she heard the growl. And the smell hit her. The acrid smell of gunpowder and urine. The smell of battle. And it's growl sounded like that of a plane motor.
It's long taloned fingers caressed her jaw, looping over her jugular. And she screamed. It couldn't take her. No. She wouldn't let it.
She ran, somehow managing to not get her throat slit. It howled with the pleasure of her speed and loped after her. Her hands ached from the the scratching. She looked down and stopped running.
No blood. No monster. She was standing back in the mess hall, looking at her hands above her tray. David was smiling and telling her about his latest exploit in his barracks. She smiled and tried to sit down and eat.
She couldn't. Her hands were shaking so much she couldn't even get her hands to her mouth. David kept talking and…
Wait. This wasn't right. She was lying in a hospital bed in Seattle. Not eating with David in Carolina.
Come on… wake up…
She squinted at David. He was still talking but it was all slow. Like he was under water.
She looked down at her plate. It was empty.
She looked back at David. He picked up a knife, twirling it as he talked. He lifted it to his lips, like he was about to give himself a shave, and began to cut away his lips as he talked.
Alex ducked her head into her hands.
“NO DAVID NO!” She shrieked, “YOU NEED TO TELL YOUR STORY! DON’T HURT YOURSELF LIKE THAT! NO!”