I can see her through the haze of pain that has clouded my vision over the last three days, her bright blue eyes glinting in the gloom and I really hope that she’s real.
I have seen her so many times over the weeks that I have been imprisoned, reaching for her only for my hand to go straight through her. Each time it has caused my soul to lose a little bit more hope, and strength to continue.
She pulls the wires away from my hip, and then reaches up to unfasten the cuff around my left hand. The freedom of having at least one hand free is overshadowed by the weakness and the pain that I feel coursing through the limb. I fall forward, my hand instinctively coming forward in a bid to stop my fall and prevent myself from further injury.
The palm comes to rest on her resolutely real shoulder, the fine bones and muscles flexing underneath her shirt as she reaches for the other cuff. A glorious smile spreads itself across her face, when she hears my whispered “Aella?” and she simply nods.
Copyright Emily Morris 2017