When Mrs Walter entered the room again, she was welcomed with the horrible laugh of the old lady.
Worried that it could disrupt the rest of the girl, she rushed to her and spoke gently, "Old Aunt, why don't you come with me? We will let the girl rest."
It was not an unknown fact that this old lady was the patient of a psychological disorder.
Mrs Walter, being the psychologist herself, had been very careful around this Old Aunt, knowing very well that she came into the group of those who didn't even want to get cured and were triggered easily.
Earlier, Mrs Walter used to try to get through her however, she had to abandon that thought eventually. She understood that the Old Aunt didn't wish to be cured.
"Keep her warm and provide nutritious food."
"We will. Go back safely." Mrs Walter saw her to the door and sighed. By that time, Baldwin, Bob and Jacob had also left.
"Is she unconscious?"
Mrs Walter nodded at her husband's question. "Perhaps she will be up by tomorrow." There was an unsaid tension in her tone. Honestly, even she was not sure.
Mrs Walter was sure there were no physical injuries that the girl was suffering from, but she could not be equally sure about her mental health.
They still did not know what exactly happened to the girl.
She could have gone through nothing and still from something major at the same time. Although she really hoped it was the former one in this case.
For some reason, just the mere thought of the girl who did not seem more than twenty going through something intense caused her heart to ache.
She and her husband had always been extremely empathetic about the children because they never had theirs. They craved to be the parents but couldn't be.
Before retiring to bed, Mrs Walter came to check the girl one last time for the night.
She put the back of her hand on her forehead to check the temperature. It was cold but better than before. She turned on the room heater and covered her body properly with the quilt.
There was a considerable warmth and a distinct tenderness in her actions.
Mrs Walter was closing the door behind her when she noticed the window of the room was left open. She went ahead to close it, and her attention fell upon the sky.
It was clearing.
The thunderous and the angry clouds were slowly disappearing into where they had originated from. Even the wind had an unexpected serenity in it.
No one could tell that the same weather had been so destructive earlier.
-
It crept in slowly...the feeling of unfamiliarity. It tip-toed, too afraid to be found in an instant.
There was a difference in the surroundings, but more than that, there was the crawling sensation of the air all over her body. It should have left an impact of cooling sensations but it felt hot.
Too hot for her liking.
And it was not usual.
It was more as if the air was getting over her skin in bits and pieces.
The bits and pieces caressed her naked skin in slow dancing steps, roaming all over her and yet leaving the few inches untouched in fear that the dancing melody would be ruined.
And those untouched part irritaed her more than those touched ones.
When the feeling got too much for her body to withstand any longer, the consciousness came over her.
It was no longer her running after it; instead, that feeling of being alive running after her. The beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.
The young lady let out a low, painful sound and opened her eyes slowly.
It was all blurry. After blinking her eyes a few times, the vision got clear and she went into a daze.
The room was illuminated by the light coming from outside. The sun rays fell on the foot of her bed. The walls were painted in the combination of blue and white, the colours which she was most familiar with.
As she lay there, the memories came running of the past evening and the events that led her to the state she was in right now.
She was alive.
She came out alive from that!
Her eyes showed a hint of disbelief.
This was all she yearned and now that she was alive, it was so hard for her to believe. But replacing the disbelief was the fear.
Where was she?
The recognised terror swam in the pools of her orbs.
Her gaze fell on the place she was lying, they moved to the bedside table and from there to the beautiful windows and then to the paintings hung on the walls of the room. To her left was a mirror. She could see her reflection in it.
An image of a girl who looked weak to the bones.
The slight panic, almost mixed with the fear, surged in her.
She tried moving her hands, as if she were forced to move a log of heavy wood.
Just as the girl raised her upper body, her vision lingered on her long, pale legs.
There were uncountable number of small scratches. The girl looked at them as if they were a part of her that she never knew existed in her.
They felt so foreign.
Just then, the door opened. Her eyes darted to the door, and there stood a woman who looked surprised.