Afternoon

Her heart is racing. Fear is pounding through her veins anticipating another attack. The floor is cold and hard; every movement causes pain to dart from her head to her feet. With extreme hesitation, she pushes herself into a sitting position. Her heart skips a beat, then another, then another. She takes a deep breath in and steadies the pulse. She sits for a moment, and then slowly gets to her feet. She steps forward to the door and looks out the window. A face appears in the door window opposite her. The face is haggard. Deep purple bruises mar the skin under the eyes. The sockets are defined by the emaciation that is evident. The lips are dry and cracked, the skin red around the mouth from a tongue hoping to provide some moisture. The hair is wispy and white. She recoils from the window and takes another deep breath. When she looks back, the face is smiling maniacally with a mouth devoid of teeth, the gums spongy looking and bleeding. She feels the burn of vomit and turns and retches all over the floor. She pounds on the door in an effort to scare the face away. She hates the face. It is grotesque and repulsive. As she pounds at the door her heart fills with another wave of heat. Her chest tightens and her pulse skitters out of control. She sits in an attempt to stave off the barrage of pain. It is no use. She feels her body stiffen as arrows of agony radiate from her heart. The heat builds and builds until she feels as though her heart will turn to ash. She screams over and over, tears streaming down her face in confusion and utter incomprehension. As the wave of pain subsides, she hears the metallic door open and footsteps approach her. She has the sensation of being carried, and she feels the softness of the bed envelop her. Her ears are pounding with aftershock. She hears murmurs and the door closing, the smell of her vomit no longer present. She closes her eyes and drifts to sleep, visions of bloody gums and skeleton eyes to haunt her into the night.