"I..I didn't see you..you were over there, now you're here..oh my God," I say, pacing before he grabs my arm, stops me.
"Chill. Would Ты like to dance?" he asks. I say yes.
Hesitantly.
We dance, sometimes close, sometimes dancing so crazy we can't even see each other. But something weird happens during one of the dances. He pulls me close. I barely know him. And then, his hand around my waist, he almost grips me, as if in pain. And then burning, almost like a msall scratch a dog would give you. A sharp prickling runs through my lower back. I moan, softly, and I look at his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, his teeth clenched.
"Are you..okay?" I say softly.
"Yeah..yes..I'm-" he shoves me away and goes outside. I follow him.
"You. Stop. What's wrong?" I say, the rain soaking my hair, my dress.
"Get away. You're dangerous," he says, stopping, his back to me. I grab his wrist, feel his pulse. It's insanely high.
"Shut up. I'm not. I have killed anything other than my Барби doll's hair. But still. What's wrong?" Again, the same prickling pain vibrates through my back. I give a groan.
"You shouldn't come near me. You're cursed now," he says, looking at his clenched fists.
"What?"
"You. Are Cursed." He looks out into the rain, staring as if something that was there wasn't really there. A searing pain shoots up my back, causing me to collapse on the ground, clutching my dress, which has suddenly turned bright red on my back.
"Oh, God," I moan. He swooshes over to me, helping me up.
I let him.
My first mistake of many.
"I..I have to look at your back. I need to. Something serious is wrong," he says. I reluctantly let hime slide my dress up, revealing a corner of my undergarments. He touches it, a burn roaring through my back, going up my neck.
"Ow," I say through clenched teeth.
"Sorry." He prods, pokes, gently, but not gently enough for me not to feel it.
"I..I have to get home. I feel sick." He lets go of my dress, turning me around to face him. He lays a cool hand on my forehead.
"The fever's already setting in," he mumbles.
"Wha?" I say, disoriented.
"Nothing. I'll get Ты home."
All I remember after that is throwing up on leather seats and being carried inside my room.
All I could smell was earth.
"Chill. Would Ты like to dance?" he asks. I say yes.
Hesitantly.
We dance, sometimes close, sometimes dancing so crazy we can't even see each other. But something weird happens during one of the dances. He pulls me close. I barely know him. And then, his hand around my waist, he almost grips me, as if in pain. And then burning, almost like a msall scratch a dog would give you. A sharp prickling runs through my lower back. I moan, softly, and I look at his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, his teeth clenched.
"Are you..okay?" I say softly.
"Yeah..yes..I'm-" he shoves me away and goes outside. I follow him.
"You. Stop. What's wrong?" I say, the rain soaking my hair, my dress.
"Get away. You're dangerous," he says, stopping, his back to me. I grab his wrist, feel his pulse. It's insanely high.
"Shut up. I'm not. I have killed anything other than my Барби doll's hair. But still. What's wrong?" Again, the same prickling pain vibrates through my back. I give a groan.
"You shouldn't come near me. You're cursed now," he says, looking at his clenched fists.
"What?"
"You. Are Cursed." He looks out into the rain, staring as if something that was there wasn't really there. A searing pain shoots up my back, causing me to collapse on the ground, clutching my dress, which has suddenly turned bright red on my back.
"Oh, God," I moan. He swooshes over to me, helping me up.
I let him.
My first mistake of many.
"I..I have to look at your back. I need to. Something serious is wrong," he says. I reluctantly let hime slide my dress up, revealing a corner of my undergarments. He touches it, a burn roaring through my back, going up my neck.
"Ow," I say through clenched teeth.
"Sorry." He prods, pokes, gently, but not gently enough for me not to feel it.
"I..I have to get home. I feel sick." He lets go of my dress, turning me around to face him. He lays a cool hand on my forehead.
"The fever's already setting in," he mumbles.
"Wha?" I say, disoriented.
"Nothing. I'll get Ты home."
All I remember after that is throwing up on leather seats and being carried inside my room.
All I could smell was earth.
