Ghost Girl; Chapter 5, Part 1

Chapter Five, Part One: Sand and Blood
She hates days like this. When she opens her eyes it feels like all the sands of the Sahara Desert have found their way between her eyelids. When she tries to move pain flares in every corner of her body. She curses at the people she didn't know who thought it would be sooooo hilarious to push her down some stairs. The fingers on her left hand hurt because some random person stepped on them while she was trying to peel herself off the floor at the bottom of said stairs. The nurse had questioned her about how she had gotten hurt, and all she had told the nurse was the truth. She had fallen down the stairs.
It is a Saturday morning and the alarm doesn't go off on Saturdays. She can feel Whisper at her side, warmth radiating from the dog like heat from a woodstove. Two other dogs are draped across the foot of her bed, she doesn't want to move to see which ones they are because the pain has only just started to subside. She sighs and feels Whisper sigh along with her, before snuggling closer to her human's bruised side. The dog's heat makes the constant ache there fade a little. She sighs again.
She thinks back to the day, two days ago, a Thursday, when she had been licking her wounds (so to speak) in the library. She hadn't realized that he went to the same school as her, which was stupid, considering that this school was the only high school in the district. She still doesn't know his name, still doesn't know why he interrupted her thoughts so often. Still doesn't know why he helped her. If she concentrates hard enough she can still feel his hand taking hers, warm and dry and real. Human contact that she, other than her parents, has never had. She is craving it now, like she imagines a junkie craves the next fix.
And suddenly she misses her old school, her old life; where she was ignored, but not hated. Where she didn't think of a boy she had only seen twice, crave the feeling of his hand in hers. She wishes that she had never come here, wishes for her old house, her old woods. She feels tears start to slid down her face, falling from the corners of her eyes into her hair and ears. She raises an arm, oblivious to the pain that shrieks down her side, to cover her eyes as silent sobs shake her.
Yeah, she definitely hates days like this...