Faith blinked at the early morning sun streaming in through the gap in the curtains. Another restless night, sleeping for half hour periods, then waking up feeling cold, then too hot, unsteady, fitful. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it must be her subconscious, reminding her of the day, but she didn't want to think about anymore.
She slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disrupt Sam's sleep as she dressed quickly, silently leaving the room.
She walked in the direction of a running path that she'd caught sight of the day before, and slowly started jogging as she approached it, warming up her muscles.
Her feet hit the ground with a gentle pit pat, dirt flying up, disturbed from it's natural resting place as she passed, ducking bushes and low hanging branches, her steady breathing the only sound, loud and harsh in her ears.
Now, Faith, as I record this message you're sleeping. And the doctors tell me you might never wake up. I don't believe that. Sooner or later you will wake up, and when you do, you'll find the world has gone and changed on you. I wish I could make the world a better place for you to wake up in.
Harder and harder, pushing herself to her limits, running as fast as she could, her lungs burning, muscles aching, wanting to rest but not being able to.
And then a loud, strangled cry filled the air.
And the burning and aching stopped.