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Itsy, bitsy spider, Amara hummed in her mind.
God, she was tired. She didn’t even hurt anymore. She just wanted to sleep. Her whole body wanted to sleep. Her arms were already asleep. She tried to move them and only twitched her fingers. Why was she staying awake anyway? There was nothing for her to stay awake for.
The little spider returned.
Itsy, bitsy spider, she continued humming, watching with swollen eyes as he took another route, and began his climb again.
She almost smiled, rooting for him to make it to the top.
“Jesus, fuck!”
The sound penetrated from somewhere behind her but Amara didn’t bother focusing on it.
Hands touched her arms, slowly turning her on her back.
Fire flared again in slices down her flesh.
Something covered her.
It smelled nice.
Amara blinked up and saw blue, blue eyes looking down at her. She recognized those eyes from somewhere. It reminded her of clear skies and pretty clouds. She wanted to float there.
“I’m going to lift you up, okay?” the boy spoke quietly, his voice pulling her back to the ground. He had a nice voice. She wanted to wrap herself in it and never leave.
Recognition dawned through the haze in her mind.
The new boy. Tristan. What was he doing there? Or was she hallucinating? Had her mind truly splintered?
Amara opened her mouth to answer him, but something was burning her throat. No sound came out. Panic cleared the haze a little more.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he reassured her. “No one will lay a finger on you. I promise.”
She believed him for some reason. He should have made his promise before though.
“Please,” she somehow rasped out.
He leaned forward to hear her better.
“Don’t…don’t tell…any…one,” she got the words out, barely, through the pain in her throat. Tea. She needed her ma’s hot herbal tea.
The boy simply looked at her for a moment, something powerful in his eyes, before picking her up, careful with the injuries on her back, and placing her on a table. Setting her down gently, he wrapped the jacket, his jacket, more snugly around her.
“You doing okay?” he asked, in a voice so gentle, it made her lips tremble.
Amara shook her head. She didn’t think she’d ever be okay again.
“Hang in there, yeah?” he said softly.
What for, Amara wanted to ask but couldn’t get her throat to cooperate. Tea. She needed tea.
“Dante, I have her,” she heard the boy say and felt herself drifting off suddenly, her lids getting heavier.
She heard more voices but her eyes wouldn’t open.
And for some reason, somehow believing Tristan’s promise that she was safe, Amara let go and fell into blessed oblivion.
She couldn’t move.
