The dry grass scratched against my cheek. It was comforting. I need to get up. Now. The thought echoed through my head; a warning.
I tried moving my arms, to position them under me so I could push myself up, but they weren't moving. They stayed limp and rubbery, like they were limbs of a rag doll.
I felt them before I heard them. It came on first as little pricks against my skin, and then it built up from there. It felt as if there were tiny fires popping along my spine, and it all resulted from fear.
"Emily!" The voice was familiar. Whoever it was turned me around, the person's hands running along my hair, brushing it back. "Oh my God! Peter, call the hospital! Hurry!" Her voice was frantic, scared. Did she see them too?
I could hear their whispers, some louder, others fainter and menacing.
"Emily, baby, it's going to be ok, just hold on." I focused in on this voice, and shut out the whispers, and tried to forget about the lashed of fire running along my back.