A sunflower without petals [CLOSED]

Here she was again, in this strange place.

She could never understand what was going on, nor why time repeated itself over and over again.

There were loud, crashing noises all around her, with echoing booms just a few feet from where she stood. A plain, concrete stairwell climbed higher and higher as she came upon the scene once again.

The boy crashed against the wall like he had many times before and after a few moments of silence her legs would leap forward without her command. She always grabbed the blond boy in her arms, holding him and shaking as if she felt his pain herself. He was close to her, he had to be, but it was never clear why she felt so sad for him.

The dream continued as always. The heat and glow of her hands, the arrival of a young brunette, and the sweet song that filled her ears and gave her a strange hope. It was all familiar, but each time felt like the first. Although things were odd, confusing, and somewhat bleak, that melodic voice gave her a comfort and warmness that could never be explained.

Each time she fell for its warmth. She knew the song would end and so would the dream, yet her heart still stopped and her body grew cold. Involuntarily climbing the steps to the top of the stairs, she found herself looking at the mangled form of a young boy. Who was he? Why was it that the site of his body made tears well in her eyes and her throat to close in terror?

Just before she herself would be knocked back down the stairs in a devastatingly painful blow, the black haired teen always came into view. Out of all the sites during her reoccurring nightmare, his was always the most shocking. His eyes, glowing yet dead, shook her to her core. Nothing about him was right. He wasn't human, yet he stood, walked, and breathed just like one. His glowing body and zombie-like movements were too terrifying to watch that sometimes she was thankful for the pain that reset the scene.

But the reset didn't come. A blackness consumed her, freezing her body in place and putting an end to the endless cycle of her dream. What was going on? Why did it end? Just what was happening?

A small panic formed in her chest as her body's temperature dropped. For the first few seconds, her limbs felt as cold as ice, but slowly the chill subsided. As the temperature evened out, she could feel movement returning to her body. First her fingers, and then her toes. It was a slow start, but she managed to twitch her hand.

...

In a small infirmary bed, the blonde slept, various tubes and IVs stuck in her body. The beeping monitors continued on as they had since Sam's attack. Her body was colder than it ever had been, sporting a regular temperature rather than her usual warm aura. Her brain activity had been blank for some time, and although the doctors did have some concern about her condition, they trusted that she would wake up soon.

As visiting hours began again for the day, her body grew warmer. Her heart rate picked up and the monitor that observed her brain activity spiked. Just as it appeared that someone was entering her room, her fingers twitched.

Christopher had been in here every day since he found out Stephanie had been hurt. Every day he sat in there, hoping she would wake up. He would try and speak to her, hoping that she heard his voice. But every time he touched her hand it was cold to him. Everything he touched had felt cold to him, except for Stephanie. She was always the one who could let him feel heat. Days went by without a sign of the girl waking up, yet Chris still came. It got to the point that the infirmary staff had to physically throw him out. He didn't want to leave her side. He was afraid she would never wake up.

He was there as usual, right at the beginning of visiting hours. He went quietly to Steph's bed, careful not to disturb any of the other patients around. As he got closer he noticed the monitors around her changed. Her heart rate had elevated, as well as her brain activity. He brushed her arm and she felt warm to the touch. His heart fluttered and for the first time since the attack happened he felt a spark of happiness. He looked down at her hand and noticed her fingers had moved. He pulled a chair close to her bed and sat, hoping she would wake up. "Come on Steph, you can do it.." he muttered to himself.

Almost as if on command, the girl's amber-red eyes shot open and darted across the room before blinking away the startled expression she held. Laying still in the bed for a moment, she stared at one of the bright lights above her. They burned her eyes as she continued to stare until it became unbearable.

Closing her eyes tight, she waited for pain to end. It was quick, but as she opened her eyes once again and took a chance to study her surroundings, a fuzzy feeling entered her head. Her brows furrowed and she brought a hand up to rub her temple. Although a few cords seemed to get it the way, she paid no heed. The small circles she traced didn't seem to help. Soon, her arm grew tired and she was forced to drop it and sit in a strange agony.

It hadn't occurred to her that someone else was in the room until she attempted to sit up. She was wobbly of course. Her arms shook as they tried to steady her rising torso. Everything was sore and weak. Why was her body like this?

After a few attempts, she managed to sit herself up and rested against the headboard of her bed. After letting out an exhausted sigh, the girl glanced at her company with lidded eyes. His hair was stark white and his eyes as blue as the sky. His face was mixed with eager and concern as he stared at her from the bedside. Obviously he knew her, where they were, and what was going on.

"Where am I?" That felt like the right question to ask first. Her eyes were filled with curiosity as she looked towards the boy for an answer.

Iceman watched as she struggled to sit up. He didn't like seeing her struggle like she was. "Careful," he told her, worried. Once she finally sat up, she asked him where she was. He tilted his head slightly. Although she'd been unconscious for the past few days, she should still be able to recognize the infirmary. "You don't know where you are?" he asked, then continued, "You're in the infirmary. It was one of the places that was fixed up first after the Attack."

The girl cocked her head to the side slightly. There was a small twinge of pain in her neck from the stretch, but she ignored it. The infirmary? Attack? It didn't seem to occur to him that she had no recollection of what had put her there.

Straightening her head out, the girl opened her mouth to speak but closed it. There was no mistaking the concern in his deep blue eyes as he looked at her. A deep part in her didn't know how to ask his name without causing any pain to him. It was strange, and she couldn't understand where these feelings were coming from. Despite this, she needed to know who he was. More so, who she was.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about..." the blonde paused, her lips tightening into a line for a brief second. "This is quite awkward to ask, but who are you? And, um, who am I, exactly?"

The words she felt made Chris feel cold. Colder than he had ever been before. The temperature noticeably dropped in the room as mist escaped his hands. Shaking, he took a breath and the mist stopped. How could she not even know who he is? How could she not even remember who she was? For a minute Iceman couldn't find his voice. "I-I'm Christopher," he said in a shaky voice, struggling to remain composed. "And you. Your name is Stephanie Hawke." He took a deep breath to calm himself and his mind began thinking logically again. So whatever had happened to her must have caused her to contract amnesia. 'Who had caused the accident?' he wondered.

"Do you remember anything about what happened to you?" he asked her, hoping that he didn't cause her to freak out.

"So I'm Stephanie, and you're Christopher." The names seemed to roll off of her tongue. She didn't know why, but they felt right.

The girl paused for a moment. She wasn't sure what exactly threw here into this situation, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her dream wasn't just a dream. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. Something about the way his eyes looked forward, a swirling pool of pain, confusion, and worry caused a lump to form in her throat. How much concern would her story create in this already anxious boy?

The blonde shook her head. She couldn't tell him. Not now. Sweeping a strange of golden hair behind her ear, she opted to keep asking questions.

Stephanie shuffled forward slightly and rested into a comfortable position with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. "So, Christopher... Are we dating? My chest seems tighten when I look at you. That usually means love, correct?"

His heart fluttered and he couldn't think straight. His face turned red and he couldn't find words at first. He opened his mouth to speak but words wouldn't come. He shut his mouth again to compose himself. Did she really feel that way about him? "I-I don't really know," was all he could manage. He could tell her that he felt the same way, or lie and say they were dating, but that wouldn't be right. Besides, if she got her memory back, she'd know. He fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie and looked away. He was extremely nervous and he didn't want Stephanie to see how red his face was.

How could she not notice the blush that flooded his cheeks?

Stephanie paused and looked down at her hands. From his reaction, she could tell their current status was uncertain. It didn't seem as though she disliked him. Her heart thumped hard and loud with each glance at him, but was it a forgotten love for him that caused this?

Unsure of a response, the blonde glanced away at the wall and pondered what else she could ask. Maybe something about her dream, so she could begin fitting the pieces together.

Her voice lowered to a mumble. "A boy with blond hair..."

Chris tilted his head at her words. "A boy with blond hair?" he asked, wondering if she remembered something. There were multiple boys with blond hair at the school so she could be talking about anyone. Was it someone who had been with her when she was attacked? Was it her attacker? Hopefully she would remember as he questioned her about what she did remember.

"He... isn't very tall. His hair is very blond-" she lifted a lock of her own hair as example, "like mine, and his skin seems to glow like sunlight." It was hard pulling out these fine details. Although the dream was clear in her mind like a summer's day, trying to speak about it caused her head to throb in pain.

"Pain.. He was in a lot of pain," the girl grumbled, curling her legs up to her chest as she felt it tighten. It was the same reaction as before. Why was she so affected by the vision of him? Who was he? "Do you know him?" If Christopher knew him, and could help them meet up, she could understand why she felt so saddened by his image.