Page 21 of A Whisper of Cinders

“Your dreamworld can offer you shelter, even when it cannot be found in the real world. It will always protect you from the danger and pain you live through when you’re awake.”

I look to my left, where I know or rather feel the presence of the voice’s soul, but can’t see anyone standing next to me. Only a golden-red glow is visible.

“I can only admire you, Maily,” the voice continues. “After everything you’ve been through, your heart is still kind even when the world has been treating you with so much cruelty.”

I look back at the river in front of me, noticing where the current picks up its pace. “I just don’t see the point in being cruel,” I say softly. “It doesn’t make the hurt go away. It only spreads it.”

The sun shines a bit brighter, the rays warming my skin and a flicker of surprise rushes through me. Will I ever get used to this feeling? I let it sink in, somehow feeling more energized. “Keep that in mind, no matter what comes next.”

I turn around, scanning the meadow, searching for a bundle of light, a figure or a shadow. But I am all alone, yet I’ve never felt so…safe.

And even though I know pain and sadness awaits me in the real world, I can’t help but smile and notice how the sun shines even brighter.

I know I’m no longer dreaming. The pain that is present and the grey walls surrounding me are proof enough.

My back is sore, the wounds undeniable there, yet the pain might have lessened a little over night, probably thanks to the good care of Ami.

I’m lying on my stomach, unsure of how I could’ve fallen asleep like this, and carefully try to push myself up. The movement sends a heatwave through me, the raw skin pulling tight.

I hold my breath for a few seconds, slowly blowing out the air as I rise to sit. I let my legs dangle over the bed and only when I feel steady enough, I put weight on my legs. It’s still early, so I have plenty of time to get ready. Time that I will need.

Standing isn’t pleasant, my skin pulls almost unbearable as I straighten. How will I survive through today? And I know tomorrow will be even worse, it’s always like that. I’m not allowed to limp or flinch, or even grimace. Those things show weakness and they all feast on it.

I slowly make my way to the door and right when I’m about to push the doorhandle down, a soft knock sounds. No one knocks around here. They don’t know what politeness is, except for one person.

The door opens and I am not surprised to see Ami standing there. “Why are you up already?”

“What are you doing here?”

We ask it simultaneously and laugh, but laughing isn’t a wise thing to do, making me hunch my back in pain.

“What do you think I’m doing here? Helping you of course, and not a moment too soon apparently.”

She walks past me to my closet, grabbing my bathroom supplies. “Do you need anything else?”

I shake my head. “No, that’s everything.”

She holds out her arm and I grab it without thinking, obviously needing the support. The walk to the bathroom is slow, but every step makes my muscles loosen up and by the time we reach the showers I almost walk without a limp.

“You should really talk with Doctor Herbert, Mai, this is way out of line.”

I try to undress myself, surprised to see I’m wearing my spare nightgown, probably thanks to Ami since the other one is stained. Moving my arms up is impossible, and soon I am out of breath, suppressing a whimper, as I move my arms back down. “You know I can’t do that, it’s no use either.”

“Can you stand?” only when I nod, she lets go of my arm and turns open the faucet, letting her fingers dance under the unsteady stream. “You should at least try it, for the sake of your body, functionality and wellbeing.”

Ami helps me out of my nightgown, opening the buttons one by one and begins unwrapping the bandage that is apparently wrapped around my waist and shoulders.

Once the water reaches the right temperature, Ami holds out her hand and helps me enter the cabin. The temperature of the water is pleasant, but I know once the water touches the wounds, I will say something different.

“I’m fine,” I mumble, right when the water flows down my back and the air is pushed out of my lungs.

Ami gathers water in her hands and lets it trickle down my back, as my body adjusts to the sensation of water across tender wounds. A sigh sounds from behind me. “Keep telling yourself that, babes, you might start to believe it.”

Ami opens a bottle and I throw a glance over my shoulder to see her putting some shampoo into her waiting palm. Telling her I can do that myself would be pointless, so instead I tilt my head back as much as I can and enjoy the feel of her fingers massaging my scalp.

After a few minutes, I’m all washed up and I turn off the faucet, turning around to leave the cabin. Ami’s already there, holding a towel open for me. “You know, you don’t have to do this.”

She huffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would you do without me?”