Sixty-Five (Heather); Just Peachy!
I open my eyes slowly, my head ringing with pain. I don't know where I am, and I feel so sick... So very very sick... Eventually the room swims into focus and I blink, trying to somehow understand where the hell I am. Not working; I still have no idea whatsoever. This can't be good! The last thing I remember...is coming offstage and...and hearing someone... Someone saying something... "Now it's your turn.", that's what it was! I smile at remembering, at getting through the gunge of my mind, then wince in pain as I feel the skin of my bottom lip crack down the centre and I taste the familiar metallic taste of blood. Hmm. Healthy.
I shut my eyes and open them again, staring at the darkened ceiling above me. It gives me, as it gave me earlier, no clue as to where I am. Bugger. Slowly, carefully I sit up, clenching my eyes shut once more as pain knifes through my skull. It's subsided into a dull pounding in an instant, but the memory of it makes me dizzy and even more nauseous than I was earlier. I open my eyes and look around me. The room is pretty normal, as rooms go. Apart from the decided lack of furniture. Plain, unassuming, kinda dull. A small tendril of panic snakes its way through me and threads around my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe. A difficulty that is not improved by what I see when my gaze sweeps further left.
"Fucking hell!" I exclaim aloud, my heart lodging in my throat. Danny is lying in a crumpled heap, looking very much the worse for wear. His clothes are more tatty than usual, and I can see dried blood on his face from a wound that I can see on his temple, and another one on the back of his head. I wince, and ignoring the ever-increasing feeling of nausea I get unsteadily to my feet and make my way over to him, kneeling down and turning him over slightly. He's lighter than I thought... Good grief, does he ever eat?! The wound doesn't look too bad... But he's out cold. I bite my lip: Dammit, I've never done a first aid course, I don't know what to do! I can't even remember how to put someone into the recovery position -and I should do after all the times I passed out in the past!- and I'm scared...! Dammit, I'm scared...! I vaguely remember something from a story about rubbing wrists... Or something... I bite my lip so hard I think I can taste blood and take hold of Danny's arm, gently rubbing his wrist. I don't think it's working...! God I'm scared...! Danny, please wake up... Please wake up...
I breathe a sigh of relief as he groans softly, moving just slightly. I put his arm down and get up onto my haunches, watching him carefully. He rubs his eyes and swears. I put my hand out and touch his shoulder. "Danny-" Before I can say anything else I'm flung backwards and being pnned to the floor beneath the wincing composer. "Danny!" I protest, and yelp in pain as my head comes into contact with the floor with a 'thwak' sound, making pain slice through it once more, nausea creeping up my throat again. He hisses, in pain I guess, then scowls at me.
"Where the fuck am I?!" He demands, his teeth gritted. As angry as I'm feeling with him right now I don't feel like pissing him off further. So saying 'your guess is as good as mine, mate!' is probably not the best of ideas.
"I don't know Danny, now get the hell off me before I hurl on you!" I say instead. He regards me for a moment, looking as if he doesn't know whether to believe me or not. I cough weakly, tears making my vision swim as pain washes through me again. That seems to decide him. He gets off me, kneels and regards me with his head tilted.
"You okay?" He asks in a grudging tone I know signifies some kind of apology. I sit up properly and curl my arms around my legs, shivering.
"Oh yeah, just peachy!" I bitch, hating the way my voice cracks and wavers from a mixture of fear and feeling incredibly sick. Danny rolls his eyes. "You got brained as well, I take it." He says, rubbing at the dried blood on his cheek. I shrug and he rolls his eyes again, as if to say 'Well you're not damn good then, are you?!', then touches the back of his head and hisses in pain. Now it's my turn to roll my eyes; stupid man... Eurgh, that made me feel sick..
"What does someone want with us, anyway?" I ask softly, then clamp my mouth shut as the door swings open. Danny snaps his head around at the sound, and sways slightly. I put my hand out and steady him, but he shrugs me off. Fine then! I look back over to the door, narrowing my eyes into the shadows of what appears to be a corridor of some shape or form --God Bless my decent night-vision!-- then wince as the figure I can make out turns on a powerful torch. Half blinded I turn away, but not before I catch sight of a metalic glint in their other hand that makes my blood run cold.
Dear God we're going to die...
Chapter 64 ; Contents ; Chapter 66
