Free Ether by Dana Michelle Belle Page B

with blood. The blood stands out against the
stark whiteness of my skin, cut here and there with vivid red scars. A
whooshing sound starts in my ears and rises into a sickening roar, as the edges
of my vision grey out. The only thing I can think is how much I want Ephraim to
be here.
                A hand
covers mine lightly, ever so faintly touching mine, like a snowflake falling on
my palm, and just as swiftly the touch melts away. But I can feel him now, near
me, with me. His warmth fills me and the terrible roaring tremble leaves my
body. I straighten up, letting the blanket fall from my shoulders. “Ms. Reins?”
I say, with a quaver in my voice, “I think I’d better get cleaned up.”
                Ms. Reins
almost poor dears me back under the blanket, but thankfully Mandy breezes into
the office, an arm load of what looks suspiciously like gym sweats in her
hands. “Oh my god Becca! You look gh-ashtly,” she says, drawing out the word
ghastly until it sounds more like an accusation than an observation.
“Fortunately, I had the foresight to raid the locker room, not fashionable, I
know, but much better than blood smears and scars.  Don’t you agree Ms. Reins?
I’ll just take Becca to the staff bathroom and fix her up. Yes? Good.” As she
speaks she lifts me from the chair, and propels me into the staff bathroom off
of the office foyer.
                Still feeling
a little wooden, I watch as Mandy wads up some paper towels and soaks them
under the sink. She swabs the towels over my arms, trying to clean the blood
off. The blood turns into a thin, runny, red liquid, like water colour paint
running down my arms and hands. Mandy is talking steadily and, for once, I hear
everything she says, “Try not to freak out Becca, I know this must bring back
bad memories and all but it isn’t your blood, okay? I’ll have it all off of you
in a second. There.” She pauses; satisfied that she’s washed away all traces of
blood. “You know,” she adds thoughtfully, “in all the time I’ve known you, you
haven’t had so much as a hint of drama in your life, and now you can’t seem to
get through a day without it.” She hands me the sweat clothes. “Do you need
help changing or are you alright to do it?”
                I smile
gratefully at her, taking the clothes. “I’ll be okay, thanks Mandy, really.” I
turn the lock behind her as soon as the door closes. Longing for the kind of
comfort only one person could possibly give me I call softly, “Ephraim?”
                He’s
standing in front of me even as I speak the words. My heart shivers inside me
when I see him. “This wasn’t something human Ephraim. I could feel it.”
I burst out, wishing I could throw myself into his arms for comfort.
                Ephraim
looks grim, he reaches out, and then checks himself, just short of touching me.
“I’m sorry,” he says gently.
                Mandy
knocks softly on the bathroom door, “you still okay in there?”
                “Turn around
so I can change,” I order Ephraim. He shrugs and turns around, while I hastily
shuck off my blood smeared clothes.
                Pulling on
the sweat suit Ephraim says casually, “Just so you know, I can still see you
even with my back turned. My vision doesn’t work like yours. It’s more of an
awareness than a sense.”
                I grab my
jeans and swat the air where he stands; they fly through his image easily. “You
could have told me that before I started to change!” He winks and fades out,
but I can still feel his nearness.
     
    The rest of the day streams
by in a blur. The school counsellor pulls a few girls aside, beginning with me,
for what sounds suspiciously like the script for an after school special. She
says some fancy things about self mutilation being a cry for help, tells me I’ve
done just the right thing, and asks if I’m feeling any