Snippet #951604

Rayne watched as Cynoc turned and sprinted from them, seemingly wrapped up in his own little world inside his head. She watched, stunned, as he headed straight for the window without slowing. Without being fully conscious of what was about to happen, she took a half step as if to pursue him, calling out instinctively. "Stop! Watch out for the---!" But before she could get the last word out, he was already crashing through it.

The window exploded in a shower of tinkling glass. For a moment, the shards of glass and the boy seemed to hang motionless in the air, a horrifying picture that she would never be completely able to erase from her memory. The look of pure self-loathing, of desperation, on Cynoc's face tore at her heart. Bewildered, she rushed to the window, looking down with horror struck eyes.

Cynoc lay motionless on the wet ground three stories below. Glass littered the ground around his broken form. His leg stuck out an odd angle, and he was bleeding in several places. Numbness swept through Rayne. She couldn't comprehend the scene before her. He had purposefully jumped out of a third story window. Was he insane?

As she turned and dashed for the stairs, her body seemed to move in slow motion. Her thoughts raced far ahead, trying to make sense of what she witnessed, to find some reason in it. The hallways blurred by her vacant eyes, and she looked through the people she passed, not really seeing them.

A three story fall was no walk in the park. All common sense told Rayne that Cynoc could be dead. Falls exceeding 20 feet in height were often fatal. The third story window sat almost twice that height from the ground. She could only hope for a miracle.

The rain had increased to a soaking downpour by the time she reached the motionless boy. She fell to her knees next to him. Her hair clung desperately to her face and body,and she wasn't sure if it was rain or tears that slid down her face now. "Cynoc!" She called him, her voice breaking. "Cynoc?" In her state of utter bewilderment and shock, she was unable to form a complete coherent thought, and her lips seemed incapable of forming any other word than the boy's name. Dear God, let him respond.

Rayne knew he needed to be moved, and soon. His injuries, if not already fatal, needed immediate attention. She was afraid to touch him, however. What if he'd broken his spine, or his neck? Her hands hovered uncertainly over his motionless form. Dry sobs racked her body. Her mind had recovered somewhat, but it felt oddly detached from the situation, as if she watched herself from afar. "Perhaps I'm having a nervous breakdown," She thought, as her body gasped for air, shaking violently.

After a moment of indecision, Rayne's hand touched the boy's face gently. "Don't move," she said, her voice barely intelligible above the pouring rain and rushing wind. Her own dry sobs distorted it somewhat as well. "Blink once for yes, twice for no," she instructed, bending down over him so that their faces were inches apart. "Can you hear me?"

She waited, breathless, for his response.