Chapter 1???

[Erin]

This is a really short demo of something that I may or may not finish. I'm debating about whether or not I should give more depth to the other characters, or if they should be left unexplained. I feel partially that if I write more about the other characters, it will be easier for the speaker/ reader to become attached to them, but at the same time, I'm not sure if I should only give little bits of info now and then reveal more about them later. They're more or less major characters, but Iono kgndskjgndsgkjnds I feel like I can't write well anymore :B


The dusk that once made the beach seem radiant and welcoming had long since succumbed to the mysterious deep blue of night. The warmth of the day had long set with the giant morning star. The only thing that we could feel was the cool breeze spewing from the ocean, its drops raining on our feet with each crashing wave. We were all exhausted from running all over the place like Bart Simpson on a sugar high. Now we were just lying on our backs in the driest parts of the sand, our toes digging into the wet part caressed by the ocean. We just sat there in silence, gazing up at the indigo sky, the stars scattered like pinpricks.

“Woah…check it out!”

Chris, who had been sitting on my right, suddenly shot up, staring at the ocean like Godzilla had just emerged from it. The other three of us followed suit, only to second his astonishment.

The moon was a bright white disk in the sky, but its light somehow made the ocean seem…like something else. The way its reflection was captured in the water, and how deep its shadows were, somehow just made it….I dunno. Beautiful just wasn’t the right word. Too mild and plain of one.

Just seeing that, and sitting there together, somehow just captivated us completely. Well, of course, until some of us had to break the silence.

“Look! It looks like a dick!”

“Ugh, god John, get your mind out of the gutter!” said Jessica, sitting up and rolling her eyes.

“Seriously dude,” said Chris, “didja really have to go and ruin the moment ?”

But of course we all laughed it off, until Jessica looked at her watch.

“Crap, you guys, it’s ten of twelve!”

“Already? Damn, we’re gonna have to go back home!”

“Alright, catch you all later!”

And so, usual stuff took place. Chris and I watched and laughed on the sidelines as John kept making dirty jokes and shouting out random genitalia every minute, while Jessica took every second to reprimand him.

We all said a million and a half goodbyes after that. To be honest, I’m glad that we did. Hanging out at the beach, laughing about immature stuff, driving home, even just saying “good night” to the groggy parents who had been lulled to sleep by a re-run of Law and Order, was precious.

Because it was the last memory that I ever had before waking up.

[Erin]

I might use that, buuuuuut I think Imma go with this :>


She wanted it to be over with. She wanted it all to end. And now, in this moment, it seemed that her wish was granted.
She was fully aware of everything. She saw the darkness that surrounded her, and felt her ears ringing with the silence that replaced the indecipherable and selfish ravings of the doctors.
But had it truly ended? Had death finally decided to free her from her pain?
No. How could she have been so stupid? This was anything but the end. This was something new that they wanted to pull on her. A new test. A new form of torture. The barely visible silhouette of her hand in front of her face, the nagging sting of an IV needle in her hand, and the artificial echo of every breath she took told her that she was still alive.
But if she was alive, then where was she? What were they doing to her now? She felt her pulse begin to race as she was taken over by a wave of panic. What sort of test was this? How were they going to punish her this time? With a violently trembling hand, she reached out in front of her, trying to touch the surface of her new prison. She felt her palm press against a hard, cold surface. At any moment, she expected a catch. At every waking moment, she expected to receive an electric shock, or for a needle or syringe of some sort to inject her with something that would put her in agonizing pain. Perhaps this time they invented something entirely new. At every waking moment, the fear boiled inside of her, consuming her as she anticipated something new to come around the corner.
And then, she felt it. The smooth course her hand took against the wall surrounding her had been interrupted. Her palm, and then her fingers, caressed something thin and hard. At first, she flinched back violently, but upon not receiving a punishment of some sort, she reached out again, realizing that it was some sort of latch or handle. She then unintentionally pushed against it, and when she felt the handle suddenly push inwards, turn, and make a fairly audible click, she once again pulled her hand back in front of her face, expecting a blow of some sort. Agonizing, horrified seconds passed by in her mind, waiting for something, anything.
And still, nothing happened.
When she received no pain or reprimand, she opened her eyes, noticing that the smallest amount of light was making its way into the coffin-like chamber, just a few inches above her.
Whether she wanted to believe it or not, the trigger against which she had pushed was the latch for a door. With more anxiety than ever, she reached out for the surface above her and felt her violently trembling fingers curl around the latch. She pushed the latch down, and then pushed against the surface, opening the door of her prison. At first, her eyes snapped shut as light flooded in to her chamber. As she got adjusted, she slowly sat up in the capsule-like structure that contained her, at first disappointed to at the sight that met her eyes. It was the same sterile white room in which she had always been kept. The same room emanating with the smell of nameless chemicals. The cold, windowless room illuminated with the unnatural white lights that served as her sun.
Or so, she thought.
Normally, they would restrain her to a hospital bed, but it seemed to have been replaced by the odd capsule-shaped device that now replaced it. She looked down at her body, her eyes tracing her torso and limbs. Other than the IV needles in her wrists and ankles and the device resembling an oxygen mask attached to her face, she couldn’t find any sort of electrical device, handcuff, or any form of restraint confining her to the machine. Her hands reached to her face, touching the anesthetic mask, tracing the band that attached it to her face. With hesitation, finding that she had not yet been drugged, caged, or subjected to some form of pain for any of her actions, she decided to try taking it off. Nothing happened, and the mask came off her face effortlessly. At the very least, her breathing no longer sounded like Darth Vader’s. Wincing a bit, she removed the IV needles from her wrists, and then reached down to do the same with the ones penetrating her ankles. Trembling, she slowly moved her legs over the side of the chamber, and flinched as her bare feet made contact with the cold, tiled floor. There was still no penalty, so she stood fully on her two feet.
She turned to her left, now noticing a series of IV-stands, each containing an assortment of different chemicals and formulas whose identities she did not want to identify. The doctors here had always been trying to stuff her with something new. She didn’t want to now anymore. To their right was a collection of computer monitors, many of which had black or damaged screens. Only one seemed to be operational, reading blankly “Subject is now conscious. Stabilization sequence terminated”. Another phrase with which she would not bother acquainting herself. To her, it was probably just another algorithm of another sadistic test or torture from the doctors. She was then overtaken with fright upon seeing another figure in the room. When she jumped back slightly in surprise, the figure did the same. She then realized it had been months since she had seen a mirror.
Slowly, she walked up to the mirror, the thin, almost ghastly pale woman, draped in nothing but white hospital-like smock, mimicking each of her movements. Nothing, not the long, spiky hair growing on her pale legs, tangled bushel of ebony that ran a little bit past her shoulders ,formerly a dark pixie cut that barely went made it to her neck, or even the dark, weary, terrified eyes were features with which she was familiar. With all of the few, small, but noticeable scars she had across her face, she almost looked like a female Edward Scissorhands. She traced her fingers around her neck, seeing that a red scar around it, in certain places noticing smaller, deeper marks. A scar remnant of a collar that was often placed on her, particularly whenever they forced her through one of their mazes, or placed her in a new sort of cage. Whenever she made a mistake, tried to assault one of the doctors, tried to escape, or simply because whoever had the remote was bored, it often either gave her an electric shock or released needles that injected sedatives into her. The same way one would tranquilize an animal. Behind the unfamiliar reflection in the mirror, however, came yet another site that she had trouble recognizing.
This sight, at first, was familiar to her as well. The large steel door that she would stare at longingly every day still towered above everything else in the room. There were no knobs or handles of any sort on her side, all meant to keep her imprisoned. Even if there was a knob, she wouldn’t touch it. She knew from more attempted escapes than she would have liked to recall that it was armed with all sorts of alarms.
But today, it was left ajar. It was also no longer humming, the tell-tale sign that the security system was running. As usual, she crept slowly towards it with caution. She half-expected this to be a dream. Either a dream, or the most sadistic test they could imagine. At any moment, they could catch her. And even worse, they wouldn’t kill her, but just torture her. Sometimes she even questioned if some of their tests were concocted for reasons other than sadism. She nervously pulled open the door.
As half-expected, nothing happened. No alarms. No guards. No traps. She looked outside to see that the entrance had been…caved in. completely blocked off by rubble. There was no way that she could have gotten through it without getting herself killed or trapped, and thus she dismissed trying to get through it.
She looked up and almost let out a small scream upon seeing what she hated most- a surveillance camera. However, upon further examination, she found that there was no longer a blinking light, and no longer did the lenses trace her every movement. It simply stared at one place, like a broken toy. She noticed a stool next to the flotsam and jetsam of computer monitors and IV stands. She went over, picked it up, and placed it under the camera. Standing up on it, she reached out and touched the lenses. When receiving no penalty, she touched the rest of the camera. Like everything else, so far, no further penalty.
No one was watching her, and nothing was restraining her. There was no way for anyone to get to her. Her eyes skimmed the floor, tracing every panel and tile. Still nothing. That is, until she saw a small ventilation shaft. It was not large enough for her to crawl through it…or at least not now. This was either a dream, a new puzzle they had made for her, or the opportunity of a lifetime. She might die if she tried anything, but she would definitely die if she stayed here, whether everything was still working or not.
If she were to die anywhere, it would not be here. She was not going to allow this room to be the only thing she saw for the rest of eternity. She ran her fingers through the bars of the shaft, and pulled. The bars were so rusty that they practically snapped off the surface against which they were once welded.
She then concentrated on what she had to do, putting every fraction of her focus into her task. Slowly, as she willed it, she felt the pain of her bones, organs, muscles, every form of tissue in her body begin to contract. Her skin was soon overwhelmed with a prickling feeling, as if thousands of tiny needles were murdering her from the inside. Her hairs thickened and grew. Then lengths of her toes, fingers, and teeth each readjusted. Pain came from her abdomen as her tail bone expanded. Soon, however, it was over. She quickly navigated through the mess of white cloth. Upon finding the gaping hole through which she could fit her head a moment ago, she saw that she did exactly what she needed to do, as the room, scarcely the size of a public bathroom, was now probably the size of Grand Central Station. She took a moment to get readjusted to running on all fours, and then quickly scurried amongst the mess of her former hospital gown towards the shaft.
And then, from the moment her paws made contact with the cold, aged metal, she felt , for the first time in as long as she could remember, a small glimmer of hope.