Gradually, I move to the foot of the bed, bringing myself closer to the door. The ever-present beeping picks up in both volume and pace as I inch my way across the frigid floor. I hesitate before releasing my grip on the bed, and on shaky legs, I move towards the door. The cold metal of the doorknob sends shivers across my skin as I wrap my hand around it and twist.
With a loud creaking as the wood from the frame resists, I pull the door back and peer around the other side into a dimly lit hallway. It’s long and narrow with another doorway at the end. With a hand pressed to the wall for support, my feet shuffle slowly and the muffled voice calls out again. Only this time, I would swear that it’s my name mixed in with the words. My brow furrows in confusion, as I try to listen and break through the foggy sound for a clearer distinction.
“You’re so stubborn,” it says. “Why, Bella?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, grip the hair at my temple and shake my head slowly. I can’t place the voice, but the concern and pain is evident. My heart twists empathetically as if I know the pain the voice is feeling too. As I remove my hand from my hair, I notice it’s warm and moist. I glance down to see my hand covered in blood. The coppery metallic smell invades my nostrils and I slump into the wall as I am hit with another dizzy spell. I press my back up against it and slowly slide down, resting my still pounding head against it as I take slow, deep breaths.
Why is my head bleeding?
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