Short Story: The Witness

O God she was shaking. All she could feel was her body convulsing. All she could hear was the gushing of blood in her ears.

“Did she witness everything?” a rough voice asked.

She had hadn’t she, she been there from the beginning, frozen in fear when everyone else’s sense of self-preservation had kicked in and got them the hell out of dodge. But obviously her body worked differently. She hadn’t run, she hadn’t so much as moved, her eyes peeled back, unbelieving yet unable to look away.

“Is she passing out?” a different voice asked.

That probably explained the darkness clouding her vision and the heaviness she felt settle over her before oblivion claimed her.

Someone was calling her; they sounded so far away, their voice so soft it sounded like the wind itself. Eseme didn’t respond, she felt bone weary, most likely brought on from pulling an all-nighter at the archives, she really should hold on to sleep for as long as she could, but the voice was getting louder more insistent.

Then someone was shaking her.

Eseme’s eyes’ flew open, large hands on her, a male face holding her down as he shouted words she couldn’t understand at her.

She was being assaulted again! Eseme tried to struggle away.

“Stop! Breathe!” He said.

For some reason she couldn’t understand she obeyed the rough command and realised he wasn’t holding her down, but holding her still, she had been having some sort of seizure.

She took a few deep breaths as she looked into eyes the colour of warm chocolate.

She pulled away from him and he let her go as she sat up.

Eseme looked around.

She was in a hospital room.

It was real, she hadn’t dreamt it, she had really seen – she began hyperventilating.

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2 comments on “Short Story: The Witness

  1. Tina says:

    I’m liking the sound of this.

  2. Davinder says:

    More! I need more!

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