Author's Note: This is quite a short chapter, but I liked it's shortness, and it would have been overdone had I lengthened it. I didn't want to cram too many events into this, so its length kind of suits me, but tell me if you disagree.
5 - Ice
Sarah edges around the grubby oil-cloth covered table, trying to look like she belongs. It’s a dark, smoky room with a low-ceiling that looks as if it’s ready to fall down and collapse on everybody. Old, frayed curtains hang limply on the windows, but they do not seem to have any purpose, as the glass is boarded up.
There are shadowy figures huddled in different corners of the room. They’re talking, laughter bubbling out of their mouths. She realizes that she can barely distinguish the people; everything is a hazy blur.
Suddenly, Sarah feels faint.
She clothes her eyes and breathes in deeply; the air is thick, sweet, and nauseating. Incense sticks are propped up in Chinese vases around the corners, and a musty, exotic smell is wafting out of them.
She looks around wildly for Marian, wishing she hadn’t followed her through the alleys and into the crumbling building.
“Are you okay, darling?” A thick, warm voice ripples towards her.
Sarah spins around, breathless with shock. She finds herself facing Marian, in the same fairy costume.
She is twirling a long, slim, black cigarette between her fingers and its silver cloud of smoke eddies through the air around her.
“I’m fine,” murmurs Sarah, suturing a smile across her chapped lips. She shivers and clamps her thin arms across her body.
“Are you sure?” The fairy is glancing at her anxiously, inquisitive. “Sorry I had to go off like that. You were okay here by yourself for a few minutes, weren’t you?”
“Um…” Sarah breaks off. She grabs onto Marian’s arm for support, scrunching up her eyes in pain. As she staggers around the spinning room, she cannot see the grime-coated floor, the dusty walls, the low, ominous ceiling. Everything swirls, as fast as a lightening flash, in a thick black glaze.
“Whoah. Whoah there.” She hears Marian’s voice, and feels firm hands gripping her convulsing shoulders. She is half-dragged, half-carried outside, where she collapses in the darkness, her back against a hard brick wall.
The bitter, icy air slams into her and shocks her into consciousness. Sharp, splintery snowflakes chip at her skin but she can barely feel them. The overwhelming coldness numbs her through the soft thin woollen coat, but her heart does not need to be frozen. It is a hard lake of ice which not even the warmest of summers can thaw.
She moans and attempts to stand, but her weak legs buckle underneath her. She sinks back down on the ground, sighing wearily.
“That’s okay. That’s okay,” says Marian. “We’ll go somewhere else. You’re just not used to the air, that’s all. Takes a lot of getting used to.”
Sarah nods her head weakly, drawing up her knees and hugging them against her chest. Melted snow salts her hair, gathering the dark strands in clumps. Rays of wintry sun bounce off the wall and lace between her fingers, outspread on the wet concrete.
She tries to recollect how much time she has spent away from her mother and sister. Remnants of the day’s events slip away through her fingers, glassy and blurred.
“What...what’s the time?” Sarah asks Marian in a croaky voice.
The fairy seems relieved that she is talking. “About one o’clock. You must be shattered, love.”
“I’m okay,” says Sarah, and she stares quietly ahead.
Planted in a row of lampposts is a lifeless white sapling, weighed down by broken Christmas lights. She feels a sudden urge to leap up and wrench the stupid garish bulbs off the fragile trunk, to see the branches happily spring back up.
She rolls her eyes at herself. That was something she would have done once, a while ago, in another life, perhaps. It was pointless now. Nothing she could do would stop the tree from dying.
“No,” says the fairy, her voice dragging Sarah back into reality. “You really must be exhausted. Come on, let’s go home.”
“Home?” asks Sarah, frowning.
“Yes,” says the fairy.
“But...what about my mother? And my sister? They’re going to be worried and – “
The fairy stares at her for a long time, her eyes flickering in the mirrored lights. “Okay,” she says gently. “Do you want to come back with me? Or do you want to go – home?”
Sarah does not have to answer. The fairy knows.
I find this pretty strange. It feels there's a few lines of dialogue missing at the end of chapter 4 because it's unclear how she gets the trust this fairy enough to follow her to that... place.
What is that place anyway? It's easy enough to see, but the picture isn't complete. We don't know anything but what she's seeing and smelling.
First person present tense doesn't feel right here. I kept changing it to past tense in my head. But, that could be me.
Hi.
Don't worry about the length – for me, it's good if the chapter is short, especially if I have to read in computer. 
Ooh, something's happening!
She clothes her eyes
Hey again!
Old, frayed curtains hang limply on the windows, but they do not seem to have any purpose, as the glass is boarded up.
She clothes her eyes and breathes in deeply;
Author's Note: This is quite a short chapter, but I liked it's shortness, and it would have been overdone had I lengthened it. I didn't want to cram too many events into this, so its length kind of suits me, but tell me if you disagree.
Sarah edges around the grubby oil-cloth covered table, trying to look like she belongs. It’s a dark, smoky room with a low-ceiling that looks as if it’s ready to fall down and collapse on everybody. Old, frayed curtains hang limply on the windows, but they do not seem to have any purpose, as the glass is boarded up.
There are shadowy figures huddled in different corners of the room. They’re talking, laughter bubbling out of their mouths. She realizes that she can barely distinguish the people; everything is a hazy blur.
She clothes her eyes and breathes in deeply; the air is thick, sweet, and nauseating. Incense sticks are propped up in Chinese vases around the corners, and a musty, exotic smell is wafting out of them.
Sarah does not have to answer. The fairy knows.
Don't worry about the length of the chapter if it's finished - I've read books with shorter chapters and, as long as every single one isn't only a page and a bit, it doesn't bother me!
Sarah edges around the grubby oil-cloth covered table, trying to look like she belongs. It’s a dark, smoky room with a low-ceiling that looks as if it’s ready to [s]fall down and [/s]collapse on everybody. Old, frayed curtains hang limply on the windows, but they do not seem to have any purpose (no comma) as the glass is boarded up.
There are shadowy figures huddled in different corners of the room. They’re talking, laughter bubbling out of their mouths. She realizes that she can barely distinguish the people; everything is a hazy blur.
Suddenly, Sarah feels faint.
She clothes her eyes and breathes in deeply; the air is thick, sweet, and nauseating. Incense sticks are propped up in Chinese vases around the corners, and a musty, exotic smell is wafting out of them.
She looks around wildly for Marian, wishing she hadn’t followed her through the alleys and into the crumbling building.
“Are you okay, darling?” A thick, warm voice ripples towards her.
Sarah spins around, breathless with shock. She finds herself facing Marian, in the same fairy costume.
She is twirling a long, slim, black cigarette between her fingers and its silver cloud of smoke eddies through the air around her.
“I’m fine,” murmurs Sarah, [s]suturing[/s] (sounds weird, but that might just be me) a smile across her chapped lips. She shivers and clamps her thin arms across her body.
“Are you sure?” The fairy is glancing at her anxiously, inquisitive. “Sorry I had to go off like that. You were okay here by yourself for a few minutes, weren’t you?”
“Um…” Sarah breaks off. She grabs onto Marian’s arm for support, scrunching up her eyes in pain. As she staggers around the spinning room, she cannot see the grime-coated floor, the dusty walls, the low, ominous ceiling. Everything swirls, as fast as a lightning flash, in a thick black glaze.
The bitter, icy air slams into her and shocks her into consciousness. Sharp, splintery snowflakes chip at her skin but she can barely feel them. The overwhelming coldness numbs her through the soft thin woollen coat, but her heart does not need to be frozen. It is a hard lake of ice which not even the warmest of summers can thaw.
Sarah nods her head weakly, drawing up her knees and hugging them against her chest. Melted snow salts her hair, gathering the dark strands in clumps. Rays of wintry sun bounce off the wall and lace between her fingers, spread out on the wet concrete.
Nice choice of conflict! I wonder how she'll deal with everything now.
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