|George Marchand (rebelinnature) wrote in immune_ic,|
@ 2011-11-09 22:23:00
|Entry tags:||# 2011  november, george|
WHO: George and Open.
WHAT: Bad morning.
WHEN: November 10, 3am.
WHERE: Grand Central Station.
STATUS: In Progress.
She knew the minute her dreams shifted. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the shift. The images darkened, grew more gruesome, intense. Things flashed and there were noises she didn’t want to focus on. She wanted to get out, to run. Waking up would be the most preferable outcome for George. The scenes changed and she was in the alley again, surrounded by the infected. Only this time Gabriel wasn’t coming in to save her. The infected had her cornered and she doubted it would be much longer before they were on her.
George woke with a gasp. Bile rising in her stomach as the last few images she’d dreamed danced behind her eyelids. Her hands fisted in her bedroll as she tried to push the images away burying them in the back of her mind. She glanced over at both of her brothers making sure she hadn’t waked them. It was the last thing she wanted.
Getting up as quietly as she could George left the sleeping area, she didn’t have a clear idea of where she was going within the safehouse, but moving was better than tossing and turning in her bedroll.