Dream Life (working title?)

This is something new I just started, although the idea has been stuck in my head for a while (a loooooong while). This snippet truly is the beginning, so let me know what you think of it.

 A man and woman stand close together, clasping hands and looking down at a little girl with worry in their eyes. The woman worries her bottom lip with her teeth, gnaws on her fingernails; makes both of them bloody. The man stands there almost stoically, the only tell for his worry are the deep lines between his eyes as they watch a graying man touch a stethoscope to the young girls chest.

     “She seems to be sleeping,” the man says, “her heart rate is normal, her breathing is deep and she is experiencing rapid-eye movement. There is nothing wrong with her.”

     The woman trembles, tears brimming her eyes, looking at the doctor like he is a mad man; a mirror of the doctors expression he is giving them.

     “She hasn't woken up in three days,” the father finally says, his fists clenched at his sides.

     “What was that?”

     “I said she hasn't woken up in three days. That is not normal.”

     The doctor frowns at them, then pushes his eyes back to the little girl laying on the bed, her brown curly hair fanned across her pillow, thumb stuck in her mouth (despite the fact that it had been removed only minutes before). The girl definitely wasn't in a coma. What could it be?

     “Has this ever happened before?”

     “No,” the woman says, “at least not that I'm aware of. She always was a heavy sleeper. And as a baby she didn't wake often during the night. I just thought we were lucky.”

     The doctor frowns down at the girl, sucking noises escaping from around her thumb.

     “And how was she when she woke?”

     “She was just like any infant. She cried.”

     “And how about now?”

     The woman looks at the doctor, her reddened fingertips now playing with the hem of her worn shirt, “Now? She still cries. I don't know if it's normal for a five year old to cry the amount she does when she wakes up, but she does. After about ten minutes or so she calms down. She's never slept this long before. What's wrong with her?”

     The doctor gathers the few things he has brought with him back into his medical bag. He pulls out a small, thin, silver case from inside his coat and opens it, fingering out a card. He holds it out for the man to take.

     “This card has my direct line on it,” he says, “please call me when she wakes up.”

     The man nods and accepts the card, running his fingernails along the edges as the couple backs away from the girls bedroom door to allow the older man to leave. Fingers dig into the front of the man's shirt as the woman stares at her daughter. Her breath hitches, her fingers tighten, her eyes stare at the little girl who is making murmuring noises.

     Dark lashes flutter for a moment, deep breaths quicken under a small ribcage. The father calls the doctor back as the little girls large brown eyes pop open. Her body becomes rigid, the fear clear in her body language. Her bottom lip trembles as she looks around the room, her eyes stopping on her mother and father. The woman pulls her trembling fingers from the creases in her husbands shirt and slowly walks toward the girl.

     Dark eyes widen as they watch the woman approach. The little girl scrambles to the head of the bed, her eyes never leaving the woman. Trembling and looking like a cornered, injured prey animal, the little girl holds her knees close to her body. The woman sits on the edge of the girls small bed and reaches out toward her, all intentions of comforting clear in her posture. The woman's fingertips reach toward her and they ghost over the girls dark long curls.

     For a moment nothing happens. The girl stops trembling as she feels the fingers still barely on her hair. Her breathing stops for a moment and no one moves. After a few moments, her lungs fill with air, and that's when it happens.

     The little girl screams.