Orange light shines across the pinkish bed sheet. The glow reflecting off the pale coloured wall onto the rest of the room.

The black book in my hand is large and heavy......

Trees rustle from the sudden wind. It whips across our faces blowing hair into her face. It's cool and as if it's foretelling the coming rain.

She looks away from me quietly biting her lower lip as we lean on the metal bars.

I wait quietly for a response.

The tension is thick in the air as she doesn't say anything and I have no idea how to comfort her. It's been a long time since I've left my post.

She wipes away her tears as we still stand there in silence and as the world passes by behind our backs.

I wait still for a response as she wipes her face again while still staring blankly into space.

She tells me she'll be alright and that I shouldn't worry and I should leave if I need to.

I stay.

I hear a short but distinctly disturbing wail. It came from her. But she didn't move.

And it wasn't an audible 1. It was just picked up by something else.

It's the sound of everything inside wailing from the hardship.

And it's a wail signifying how useless I've become. How redundant I am. It speaks volumes about how I can't solve anything. How I've failed to help her because I was afraid of her.

It's bone chilling.

The orange light dances lightly on the glossy book surface. I blink and stare. I'm lying face down and sideways on my bed.

Staring at the words "Fiction" printed in very small print on the back of the book.

An Eurasian man wear dark sunglasses and a jacket is flashing a torchlight in my face from the cover of the book.

"Fiction" I read it again. Right. Sure thing.

And I knew it's going to be the first time in the series of late night rude awakenings I experience tonight.