Kim’s Earth: Chloe: Waking Up

Normally getting out of bed wasn’t something I was particularly good at. I’ll admit that most of the time it was my own fault, because I’m more nocturnal than I should be considering the fact I’m still at college. At least I was still at college. When I woke up I didn’t know what had happened straight away, but then it turned out that I had been asleep since the night of the day I had that damned injection. Most other people didn’t wake up and I’m not certain why I did. Part of me wishes I hadn’t, even though I know that’s probably survivor’s guilt, so I do my best to ignore that part as much as possible.

That day was no different to any other, to begin with, and I wondered if I’d slept through my alarm again. I couldn’t hear any of the normal morning noises that my parents made, which wasn’t a worry. Nine days out of ten I didn’t wake up early enough to hear them, so it didn’t cross my mind that something bad had happened to them, until I remembered the injection we’d all had. When I lifted the covers I could still see where the needle had gone into my skin but it looked as though it had healed much more than it should have done over night.

Stupidly I poked it. It still hurt and the pain caused nausea. Or maybe the nausea was caused by the fact I hadn’t eaten since before the injection. Breathing deeply I slipped out from under the covers. When I looked at myself in the mirror I couldn’t help wondering if I’d been sweating more than normal, because my hair was greasier that it should have been. The night before the injection I washed it, knowing I might not feel up to it for a few days after, and the only other thing I could think of that would have caused the problem was time. Sighing, I knew the first thing I needed to do, even though it would make me later for college that I already was.

As I began to make my way to the bathroom, feeling as though I’d had cramp in both of my legs during the night, I realised that there were noises coming from downstairs. Either they hadn’t been when I first woke up or I hadn’t heard them. Biting hard on my lip I looked over the banister, hoping I could see whatever was making the noise. When I couldn’t I should have stopped to think, but I didn’t. Instead I started, as quietly as possible, making my way down the stairs to see what was happening, because that was the first time I had the feeling that something had gone wrong with the injection. Like everyone else I’d read all the conflicting reports about it, but my parents weren’t at all worries so I had it.

“There’s a good selection of tins in the larder,” a male voice said, making her jump.

Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.