Fire. Pain.
It hurt to breathe. She couldn't see. She tried to move and felt the dull thumps of confinements her hearing couldn't quite register yet. Her mind couldn't grasp the waking process. It was like becoming alert from a dream too real, but one she couldn't remember now. And she couldn't remember the part before that. The falling asleep.
But that didn't matter right now as much as the surge of panic.
Fire. Pain.
It hurt to breathe. No. That wasn't it at all. It hurt because she couldn't breathe. Her limbs started to flail and panic gripped her just as tight as the constriction on her chest and lungs. For some reason it wasn't a reflex, she actually had to force her body to gulp air.
Then the panic intensified. She could feel the stale air enter her, but it didn't help. It still hurt. Her body was starting to spasm. Tears crept into her eyes, and she bit down on her wrist to stop the need to scream, the scream that would force the air from her body that wasn't making a differnce.
Sobs of terror, spasms from her cries and her body's panic.
Relief.
The thick fluid should be choking her, but instead it brought calm to her body. It took her a second to realise that she hadn't breathed in again. Her body was now simply shaking from the earlier shock and from her tears, freely flowing in release of the emotion that had been tearing into her. She tried drawing in air through her nose. No pain. She tried not breathing. No pain. No build up of need. Slowly, she lifted her wrist away from her, felt the cold stinkiness start to spread on her neck and shoulder, run a cold finger down one side. A gentle caress of reassurance. Her body didn't start to panic again.
Habit forced her to breathe easier, deep calming motions until the shakes had gone. There was still a dull ache. But it was now ignorable. Hunger was the best way to discribe it. She shuddered as her mind comprehended what she'd just done to her arm, could realise what fluid was in her mouth. The shudder increased because there was no revulsion. She could find no more reaction than she would have at having feet or blinking.
The dull fog in her mind allowed her to calmly assess the shape of her surroundings, narrow and cold and metallic. A box. What was she doing in a box?
A cold light spilled upon her. Sounds tried to penetrate the fog, and her limbs started to move. Unaccustomed muscles in the back of her eyes stopped them from aching at the change in illumination.
The surface under her moved and she lifted her body up, pulling herlelf up as she suddenly realised that she was hearing words. At first she thoguht the voice in her head, but she comprehended it now...her hearing was still dulled, it was an outside voice.
"Welcome to the second awakening little sister."
She turned and saw a woman. Tall. Gaunt. In the cold yellow play of light the woman looked like a statue, but then a broad grin split her narrow features, and the eyes glinted with some internal spark.
"Second awakening?" said a thick voice in the ringing dullness. The girl, who realised her erstwhile bed was a cold slab of metal, shook her head slightly. She shivered as she looked back at the woman, and started to shift and hold herself to cover her body from the cold, and to preserve her dignity.
She tried to speak again, spitting out blood first without any self-conciousness. Because her concern was the woman. The look she was getting was causing her uncomfortable shifting. Not the heat. Not modesty. Some strange hunger was in that look. She felt naked because there was only one exit and the woman was standing in between. There was no weapon close to hand. Why should she be worried? Who was this?
"You forget so much little sister," said the woman, her tone neither warm nor threatening. "But that is as it should be. No more than a child when your body learns to live again, none remembers their first steps. Some prefer that, some...some wish they could remember..." a whistful smile showed the camp the woman was in. "Learning your strengths, learning the hunt, learning to live by your awakened instincts." The smile.
"Welcome to the second awakeneing, little siter. The one where your mind learns to live again."
The girl blinked at the woman, then realised this was just a habit from....from a time she didn't want to think about. She used the fog in her mind as a shield now, letting nothing penetrate it.
"Who are you?" came the plea, but the girl was lookign down at herself now. She looked back over at the woman. "What do you want?"
Again the hungry smile. Wide enough that an errant elongated tooth slid out to prick her lower lip. "I wanted to welcome you to your final awakening. I wanted to welcome you to your final death."
The woman was dressed in a simple business power suit, short cut hair, disengaging smile...the girl couldn't quite register the words until the facade was shattered, and the woman leapt directly at her, a stake suddenly in hand. An instinct took over and she rolled off and collasped hard onto the floor. Wood slammed into the metallic door above.
There was a snarl as the scene became sureal and threatening, the woman's features twisted in hate and agression.
The girl tried to twist out of the way on the floor, and then decided to twist under the slab instead. The wood smacked into the ground where she had ben. The tip was split and blunted, but it was obvious that sheer emotion could still drive it right through her. She was on her feet now, facing off against this snarling beast still in the trappings of humanity.
She pretended to trip, not knowing why she did it until her hand reached out for a door frame. Her attacker leapted again and the girl ripped open the door without first using the handle, pushing it where her attacker's face should have been. The woman skipped past it easily, but the girl's body had other ideas. With one arm she was already lifting herself up off the ground on the precarious pivot. A part of her mind almost rebelled, almost remembered a time when she couldn't do that...but her body rejected that memory and already her hip was twisting and her leg was in the air. A solid foot landed into her opponent's face. A twist and the girl landed like a cat, seeing a table with implements suddenly very suitable for her purposes.
She rushed to it and grabbed the first one with enough heft for her liking, and turned to see her attacker was already back to her feet, wiping the blood from the face that still held that smile. The girl leapt without thought, driving the blade of whatever was in her hand directly at the heart of her attacker.
And froze.
It was like trying to push magnets together, she couldn't force the blade forward enough to even prick the woman. The woman just stood there, smiling. The girl then felt the effect on her own body. As she pushed her whole body into the effort she felt the resistance of the butt at her own chest. Her hand shook with the strain. The smile grew.
The implement flew away at right angles to them both and the woman swiped a vicious backhand. Another spin from the girl, she caught the woman's hand and twisting her away. The door was free.
The girl ran without thought at the it, she just needed to get to it...
She knew, knew, the woman was already starting to leap...
The door handle was so close...
The girl drove her elbow into the glass window that said 'yrautroM', her hand snapping out to grab a shard of glass as her body slammed into the door. She span round and saw the woman sail towards her with a glint in her eye that turned into pain as the glass shard was driven firmly into her body.
A shudder of impact and the body fell to the floor, a sprawl.
One disinterested thought wondered why the body hadn't disintegrated. It did seem to be softening slight. Perhaps it depended on age. She looked down at the pool of thick dark blood. The smell was hitting her strongly, but she realised her body was shaking. It had been shaking when she had tried to murder her attacker for alot of reasons. It wasn't stopping now. She looked around and with care then fell violently to her knees and threw up into a janitor's pail. She fell back into a itting position still shaking against the door. Ignoring the sharp pain in her body from the some errant splivers of glass. Igoring the sharp pain of hunger. She looked at the sickly red pool and at her own black drips still fallign from the cut on her arm.
Tears flowed freely as she let her body take over her actions again. There was no revulsion and she shuddered at that, sobbed at that. She had no idea who she had been when she was alive. She had no idea what she had been when she had first awakened from death. And now she had no idea what she was now, should be, could become.
So she cried even as everything seemed right now, the pain of hunger disappearing, the myriad questions fading in a red mist of comfort...