Part 3


A sudden cry from behind me shocked me out of my verging on hysterical state. Pain ripped through my chest, the first real feeling I'd had since the no-feeling began. It felt as if someone had punched through my chest and was gripping my heart. This wasn't right. You're not meant to feel pain in dreams.
“Rori?” A little girl called out nervously. Something squeezed my heart tighter. I whirled round, having assumed I was alone in the room – not exactly being able to call my dead body company. The door to the cupboard under the stairs creaked open hesitantly.
A tiny girl, who could not be more than five years old, hesitantly peeked out from the cupboard she'd evidently been hiding in. She had milky white skin, with dark eyes that stood out in contrast and strawberry blond curls wisping around her face and shoulders.
A deep ache from within me yearned to reach out and smooth away the creases on the her forehead. I watched with wide eyes, still reeling from the shock of being caught unaware, as she crept out, and caught sight of something. My eyes flickered to where she was now staring, frozen into place in horror. I automatically grimaced as I was met with the sight of my mangled body at the bottom of the stairs.
“Rori!” Her shriek caused the fist around my heart to clench, tears to spring to my eyes. I took a step forward unconsciously, one arm wrapped around my chest, holding myself together. The girl threw herself across the room and on the floor by my body, pausing only to take in all the obvious injuries, then cradled my lifeless head. “Wake up Rori,” She pleaded, shaking one of my shoulders gently. “Please wake up.”
I stepped closer still, crouching down near her, “She's not alive,” My voice sounded rusty from disuse. “I'm so sorry, I-”
“Rori, wake up!” She interrupted. Every word brought more pain, more anguish. I could now see that the instinct telling me I was needed, was for this little girl. I couldn't leave her like this. “Rori please... Wake up... Please Rori...” She was choking back sobs, mumbling into the chaotic red curls spilling over on to her lap from my head.
“Sweetheart,” I tried again, my heart breaking for her – quite literally if the fist locked around it was anything to go by. I reached out hesitantly and placed my hand on her back, to try and guide her away from the.. corpse. I gave a shudder at the word. Like with the camera and paper, I couldn't seem to move her. This was getting old, this lack of effect I had on my surroundings.
Frustration tingeing my desire to move her away from all the blood and gore, I applied more force than before. “Please, come with me..” I grunted from the effort I was putting in to simply move her. All of a sudden she paused mid-sob, and froze. I automatically froze too, before whipping my hand away. She twisted her head and glanced behind her, lifting one hand and reaching behind her to briefly tough her back where my hand had been. My eyes widened.